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Prose

Pillow

24 October 2018

I’m not a light sleeper, but something woke me in the middle of the night. It wasn’t something particular—like a sound or smell—but rather, a presence.

Four digital numbers were the first thing I saw, bright red amongst the stark darkness. 03:00.

I’m also not superstitious, but my mind told me it couldn’t have been a coincidence.

I rubbed any remnant of slumber from my eyes and shifted my attention past the digital clock, to a large, weird shape standing at the centre of my bedroom.

It took me a couple of seconds to realise that it was a person.

“Do not be alarmed!” the figure hissed abruptly, arms outstretched.

I was fucking alarmed alright. A high-pitched scream was hitched at my throat and I made some squeaky sound that went against any code of masculinity I practised.

“It is okay boy, I am not here to do you harm,” the figure said again. It was cloaked in a thick robe and had an earnest voice; perhaps female—if it was human.

I struggled to speak. I was blinking rapidly, breathing rapidly, opening and closing my mouth like a fish.

“You know,” I whispered at last, after 10 seconds of self-assessment, “you don’t just stand in the middle of someone’s room in the dark, in a cloak.” I did another self-assessment, concluded that I wasn’t psychotic.

The figure’s stance slumped and it said, “I’m sorry.”

You don’t just do that!” I snapped, slowly getting up. “What the fuck are you?”

Silence.

The cloaked figure clasped its palms together. Its head bobbed this way and that in silent contemplation.

I think I could have died from a heart attack.

When it did speak again, it said, “May I please sit down? I am a bit worn out from all the bops.”

I didn’t ask what the hell a bop was.

Is this what usually happens? Some creepy person appears in your bedroom at three in the morning and you give it the pleasure of taking a seat? Does it slaughter you afterwards? I had no idea what was happening, but for some reason, I found myself nodding. Not politely, but rather hysterically.

“Yes. Yes! Please sit—take a seat dude,” I rambled. I pulled my cotton pillow from underneath me and chucked it at the cloaked figure. “Make yourself comfortable.”

It rested the fluffy thing on the ground, patted it thrice and then in a huff, planted its butt down with a large exhale.

“Thank you,” it sighed. “Now, do not be shaken by what I am about to tell you.”

“Okay,” I replied, completely shaken.

“I am,” the figure drawled out, crafting as much anticipation as it could, “your Fairy Godmother.”

Silence.

“Okay,” I said again.

I was going to throw up. I reached over to my bedside table and swiftly flipped the switch of my lamp, illuminating my room in warm, orange light.

But holy gods.

Sitting in the centre of my room in a sparkling cobalt robe and curls of silver hair framing her face was indeed my—

“Fairy Godmother?” I stuttered. Everything seemed out of place. The walls of my room were embellished by NBA posters, my desk a discombobulated shamble of games and consoles and then… my floor accompanied by a shimmering old fairy. “Why… why do I have a Fairy Godmother?”

She had a kind smile with wrinkles in the corner of her eyes.

A bit like my grandma but more sparkly.

“Well Jords,” she began, “it is Jords, isn’t it?”

“Jordan,” I replied robotically.

“Something magnificent is about to happen in your life, Jordan! Think of me as the harbinger.”

“Like what? I shall go to the fucking ball?”

The fairy gave me a ludicrous look, ironically.

“The ball?” she mockingly reiterated. “That is quite lame.”

Lame?

“Well this was quite the shabby introduction,” my Fairy Godmother stated, shifting on my pillow. “I shall further inform you tomorrow night. Same time?”

I swept my feet to the edge of my bed and glared at her.

“Wait. You can’t just come in here and just leave—”

The fairy reached into the depths of her cloak—I retracted in fear—but she only pulled out a stick, a wand.

“Wait!” I exclaimed.

“Bibbity Bop!”

With a puff of blue mist and golden twinkling dust, my Fairy Godmother vanished into thin air with everything that was with her, leaving behind the scent of lavender. Apart from the swirls of majestic fog, my room was left the same as it was before the clock hit three in the morning.

With calm and steady breaths, I slowly laid my head back down onto the mattress, swearing violently in my head.

 

The only indication that this peculiar encounter truly occurred was that my pillow was gone.


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