The Roadkill Fairy
The Roadkill Fairy  fairy stories

Autoplay OFF   •   a year ago
A fairy is saved by a giant surgeon after being hit by a car.
TW: surgery and body horror

The Roadkill Fairy

There by the train tracks

I found you lying

In fizzing red Cheerwine

Leaking from the hole in your chest.

And one of your pretty stained glass wings

looked like disturbed and

brutalized cobwebs.

I should leave you here.

You're already stiff

And I feel no heartbeat...

But you are pretty

In a macabre sort of way.

We're supposed to leave

Wildlife to die,

for the coyotes...


I move the bloody carcass

And you scream like the

Day you were born.

If you died

I think I'd like to

keep you at my desk.

But I couldn't watch you this way.

My phone carefully laid next to you

Like a stretcher

I try to move

Your wriggling form

Onto it.

You're shaking so bad from the pain.

I walk home and

the thuds of my feet

vibrated through my phone

Into your shattered screaming bones.

God forbid somebody calls me.

Your blood spreads on my screen

And you look up at me,

Probably thinking I was

as wicked as

A Titan or something.

Your whole suffering body

Was lit from behind like

Your soul was rising to heaven

by the call of a robot trying to sell me car insurance

And it shook you like a

Magnitude 5.0 earthquake.

You scream and I can hear it.

Do fairies take tylenol?

Maybe I should have left you

Your suffering seems worse.

Be brave, I tell you

As I flip you into my hand.

I hold you close

And your bloodcurdling

screaming is

quiet to me.

I can fill the hole with glue


Or you'll hemorrhage


I'll have to cut it off

your tattered wing

And give you a new one.

I ask you

before I begin if

You really want to live

And you say you'd like to try.

The surgery was very stressful

With paint brushes for miniatures

And guerilla glue that

could have gotten

Stuck to your flesh

If I wasn't fast enough.

You lost so much blood.

The surgery was painful

And you bit a piece of pencil lead

While I used an exacto-knife

To smooth shattered scales.

I tell you hold still as

I hold your new wing

To your burning wound

And I glue it on.

Hold still, I say

Against the will of your body

Which begs to move away from the

Burning of these foreign things where

Wings had once been.

A few weeks later and you sit at my desk still.

You limp and learn to fly again

And your jagged movements

Your nightmares and tears

Are all worn

so well by you

And you, little thing, are

So pretty, in a beautiful and

Macabre sort of way

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