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Crescent Moon Calling

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They told everyone to stay inside when the sun had set, and the crescent moon was overhead. Of course, they didn’t say it out loud, only in hushed whispers. It was like some bad horror film. Peter thought it was ridiculous. It was the 20th century. Who believed in that sort of stuff for real anymore? Okay, Peter could move faster than anyone could see and his baby sister could bend spoons like a stage magician, but mutants were explained by science and evolution, not mumbo jumbo. Even if there was something, Peter could outrun it.

He had just finished a productive night of teepeeing the principal’s house, with stolen toilet paper of course. His watch said it was getting late and he was about to head home when he heard the sad, desperate cry.

“Brother? Brother, where are you?” Her voice was a wail, somehow able to cut through the noise of the city without trying.

Without thinking he found himself following the cries. It sounded like it had come from just around the corner, but when he turned it there was no one and the voice came from further down the street.

He kept following it, as it lead him through twists and turns, until he didn’t recognize where he was, which was weird because he had prided himself on his knowledge of the city. First, he walked, then he ran, then he really ran. No matter how fast he moved he could never catch up to the voice.

Peter followed the voice through a tunnel and came out in the middle of the forest. There was no road before him, no street lights, only countless trees. When he looked up there were so many stars in the sky that he felt like was in a fantasy movie. Peter spun around and the tunnel was gone. There was only more forest.

“Brother, you’ve come back to me.”

The voice was close, for real this time. Peter looked up to see a young woman with wild brown hair, eyes that glowed red, and on her back were a pair of glowing, translucent wings floating in the air above him. When she looked at him, she smiled.

“You’ve reincarnated so many times amongst the humans. I was scared that you’d never come back to me, brother.” The woman descended down to him, her wings softly fluttering.

She kept calling him brother. He didn’t have a second sister. He wanted to tell her this, but when he opened his mouth, he found that the words wouldn’t come.

One delicate had reached out to him, and slowly caressed his cheek with just the tips.

Peter shivered.

“What name did they give you this time, Brother?”

“Peter.”

She smiled. “Always a P name.”

“What’s your name?” He had to fight the urge to add sister onto the end.

“Wanda.” She moved in and kissed him on the lips. She tasted like both pure water and cinnamon at the same time.

Peter brought his hands up to wrap around her body, pulling her close. He was returning her kiss, making out with this strange woman in the middle of a forest that shouldn’t be here.

Wanda pulled away from him, but grasped his hand. Peter offered no resistance as she pulled him further into the woods. He felt no desire to leave, to return back to where he came from. When he tried to think about where he came from, everything felt hazy in his mind.

She took him to a house that shimmered in the moonlight. It was as insubstantial as mist and as real as a dream. When he looked closer at it, he thought of a tree that had been petrified. Wanda brought him inside, though he couldn’t remember going through the door. The inside was cozy. There was a large pot over a fire. A bed was covered with a patch work blanket. The furniture was made from delicate, vines that wound around themselves. They looked like they should have collapsed at the smallest touch.

“Sit down,” Wanda ordered.

Peter sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Would you like something to eat?”

“Yes, I’m pretty hungry.”

“What do you like?

“Twinkies.”

Wanda made a face. “What are Twinkies?”

“They are like small cakes.”

“Ahuh,” Wanda said. She was smiling now as she went to a table and opened a small box. She pulled out a round, red miniature cake, about the diameter of a coffee mug. She was smiling as she put one knee on the bed on Peter’s right side, and then her other on his left, straddling him. “Eat up, Brother.” She pressed the cake to his lips. The smell reminded him of a spice shop next to his favorite comic book shop.

If Peter could think clearly he would have remembered his grandparent’s stories about not eating the food of the fae. Peter wasn’t thinking clearly.

He ate the whole cake as she fed it to him.

Any thoughts of the mortal world were banished from his mind. He had no desire to go back or to even think of it. The knowledge of it remained, but he now belonged to the world of the fae.

Wanda kissed Peter again, nibbling at his lip as she pushed him down to the bed. She ran her hands up and down his torso.

“It’s been too long since we have been one, Brother. I think we should fix that.”

“That sounds wonderful, Sister.”