• “The Green Fairy”

    Paris, France 1879
    The musical swishing of strange liquids usually quieted around this time of night. The location was a busy recreational spot during the early evening hours, but became a place for lurkers in the desolate night hours. It was at this time that a stronger spirit was served, brought out from the locked cellar beneath the cabaret’s floors. Anyone who had ever heard the exotic name of the thick beverage had also heard the many rumors that accompanied it. It was said to have the ability to take anyone under its influence. It was certain that those who could be found here were drinking the green molasses and that they were wanderers without names, not more than mere silhouettes in the dim glow of the outdated chandelier. Another man dressed in shadows placed his order, his soft whisper echoing through the empty hall,” Absinthe”.
    The beverage was set before the man. A metallic clank rang through the stagnant air as he placed the slotted spoon on the top of the glass. The single employee stuck with the graveyard shift appeared in front of the man, and placed a small cube of sugar atop his drink. The absinthe was meant to be prepared in a way in which its full potential could not be realized. The bartender poured chilled water over the sugar cube, and the man felt his body loose tension as the familiar hiss reached his ears. He took his first sip, savoring the drink’s distinct flavor, fully aware that in a few moments, he would no longer be the one in control. His senses would be propelled by the infamous Green Fairy. He relinquished his mind to the drink, allowing his remaining consciousness to take the form of an impish creature crawling from behind his glass to meet the gaze the Green Fairy.
    “Who are you?” The man’s consciousness questioned the entity before him as it inched closer. The fairy continued to hold the imp’s gaze, and took a few moments before answering.
    “I am the being that lives in the absinthe” Her voice was dizzying, like crashing waves.
    “Why do you make this drink your home?” The imp struggled to form his sentences, lightheaded and mesmerized by the slowly blinking lights floating around him. He found it hard to concentrate.
    “I make it my home for the same reasons you call your dwelling ‘home’”. He did not like the confusing manner in which she spoke, only nauseated further from trying to make sense of the riddled responses.
    “Is it you who holds control over my senses?” He could feel the thousands of questions swimming in his head, and began to crawl behind the glass again, the light paining him further.
    She continued to look at him with that maniacal grin frozen on her face and he could feel that gaze sift through the very essence of his being. He did not like this feeling of being exposed; his thoughts laid out before others’ curios eyes.
    “What is your purpose?” He felt a pang inside him, the desire to know the answer to this question. He could have easily guessed the response after watching the expression change on the Green Fairy’s face.
    “My only purpose is to serve myself. I have no other job than to do as I please. Mischief is my constant and my favorite companion.” It didn't take her long to come up with answer; she’d most likely been asked this same question a thousand times over. He was curious as to the reason why she stayed and answered his questions, seeing nothing that she might benefit from in answering them.
    “Why do you stay and answer my questions?” He could feel himself slowly regaining some of his strength. He was surprised to become the one being questioned. He felt more of his strength return.
    “So silly people are; why do you think this is?” This time she flashed him a genuine smile tilting her head slightly as she did so. Her voice did not seem as hypnotizing as it did earlier. He was stumped by her question, and became angered. She must be getting something out of remaining here.
    “I will ask again. Why do you stay and answer my questions?” His voice came out stronger than it had in any of the previous questions. He studied her as she rolled her eyes.
    “I have already answered this question.” She looked at him as if he were a child, dumbly repeating itself.
    “I do not understand your riddled responses.” He realized a change in his tone, having done nothing more than question the fairy. It was his first statement towards her. She did not bother to hide her irritation.
    “I have already told you. I do as I please. I remain here and answer your questions not for your amusement, but simply because it is what humors me at the moment.” It was true, she had already answered his question previously, but it had been the answer to a different question. He had done nothing more than simply overlooked it. He became more alert when she responded again.
    “Now it is my turn.” Something about this statement troubled him. He suddenly became all too aware of his surroundings, the absinthe glass towering above him, and his relatively small size when compared to it.
    “It is my turn to ask a question.” He was gaining alertness faster now.
    “Why do you ask so many questions? If you continue like that, you will anger people.” Her last statement came out more like a threat.
    He was brought up the remaining levels of alertness when he recognized the same question and statement that a distant relative used to repeat like a Macaw. He had not had a good relationship with the relative, and he could even say that in his now later years of life, still held hate for him. The memory was enough to make the imp-like personification of his consciousness return to his body.
    He awoke to find himself slumped against an alley wall with a puddle of water at his feet. It had begun to rain while he had been out, and he could feel the dampness seeping through his coat. The midday’s light had led him to discover a headache, so he tilted his hat to cover his eyes, pulled himself from the depths of his mind and the alley, and began his cycle of wandering again. He counted the hours until night once again fell.