* Sweet Fantasy*
.
Is this what humans called a mid-life crisis? Kelian wondered, wandering around the noisy, crowded midway at Mystic’s Carnival. Although determining when mid-life might occur for a centuries-old banshee who would still be around for an endless millennia – should her families live on at any rate – was all but impossible. Still, she’d been feeling on edge lately. Like maybe she needed something more in her life. More than drifting through a life spent in one magical glen or another.
.
Closing her eyes, she admitted the truth. She was lying to herself. What she needed was something to take her mind off the changes that were inevitable as children grew and matured.
.
Brody O’Neill was, at this very moment, taking a road test. If he passed—and there was no doubt that he would—he would get his first driver’s license tomorrow. Thankfully, his father had laid down the law though. For the first year, he wouldn’t be allowed to drive without him or his aunt in the truck. Kelian had breathed a sigh of relief when Brody hadn’t argued. Not that she’d expected he would, but with teens, you just never knew. When vehicles came into play, they sometimes lost their perspective, forgetting that they were still kids.
.
Lost in thought, it took Kelian to realize she’d come to a stop and was now standing outside the house of mirrors in front of a warped mirror. It distorted her so that her head looked long and narrow. In contrast, her body looked wide and squat. But there was no doubt it was her. Strange as her reflection might appear now, it was the same face that had been looking back at her for what felt like an eternity.
.
If she’d ever been a child, or even a teenager, the memories were long buried. Perhaps the many long centuries and all of the grief she’d felt as members of her families passed on had erased or buried them, but she couldn’t remember a time when she didn’t look the same as she did today—though her proportions were normal, unlike the freakish creature she saw in the mirror.
.
Long dark curls framed her face and fell well past her waist. Large green eyes, pale skin, and one of many gauzy, flowing gowns she’d worn though the years flowing to her feet. Gowns that must have been designed by a creature who wanted to frighten the dying more than they already were.
.
“You look like a woman in need of a solution.”
.
“Zeke?” Kelian whirled around to find her friend standing beside her. He was alone and she could only shake her head in wonder.
.
“You sound surprised?” the gentle, dark-skinned man said. Today he’d dressed in black slacks, a white dress shirt, and a battered leather jacket. Nothing much ever changed about him except his shirt. Sometimes it was blue, sometimes green. The last time she’d come, it had been a bold Hawaiian print, but the slacks and jacket were always the same. A smile played at the corners of his lips as he waited for her customary response, which was to ask how he always knew it was her.
.
Looking away to hide a grin he wouldn’t be able to see anyway, she said instead, “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you away from your bench.”
.
“I could say the same thing about you. Usually you come for Rue’s funnel cake, chat for a little while, and then head home.”
.
“Sometimes—I guess I need a change,” she murmured, glancing back at the mirror.
.
Unlike her reflection, Zeke’s face was wider, his curly gray hair and beard spreading out like a mane. His body was a little broader too, but he looked strong, powerful, not freakish like she did.
.
“What sort of change?” he asked, placing a hand at the small of her back. Taking a step away from the funhouse, his cane leading the way to make sure he wouldn’t run into someone, he strolled with her along the midway.
.
“I don’t know. Brody’s growing up.”
.
“All children do.”
.
“I know. I—just miss him coming to the glen every day. He’s so busy with school, his friends, and helping out on the farm that he doesn’t have time for me. And today he’s going to get his driver’s license, so he’ll be wanting to spend more time away from home.”
.
“You’re feeling neglected,” Zeke said simply, hugging her to his side.
.
“It’s not that. Not really. I’m just thinking about the day when he’ll forget about me, I guess.”
.
“He might not.”
.
“Maybe.” But she knew in her heart that he would. He should never have been able to see her in the first place, but she’d allowed him to. He was the only one of hers that she’d ever shown herself to.
.
“You are feeling sad today aren’t you, young lady?” Young? Kelian almost laughed at that. If only he knew—but then she often thought that he did.
.
“You wanted me, Zeke?” Raisa asked breathlessly, hurrying up to them. “Hey, Kelian. What’s up?”
.
“We have someone in need of cheering up. And a change,” Zeke told her. “Perhaps you could work your magic on her?”
.
Something passed between them, something Kelian couldn’t quite put her finger on, but it was clear when Raisa realized what it was he was referring to. With a grin, she nodded, looped a balloon around Zeke’s wrist, and then linked her free arm through Kelian’s.
.
“What color is it?” Zeke asked.
.
“Green. Catch you later,” Raisa said, pulling her toward the back lot where all of the carnies lived. For the first time since she’d known her, Raisa had told him the truth about the color. And for the first time ever, Zeke hadn’t asked her what the real color was. “C’mon, girl. You’re getting a makeover. It’s time to bring you into the twenty-first century. That’s where you’re from, isn’t it?”
.
“Yes.”
.
“Then it’s past time to lose the medieval look. Chop off some of that hair, give you a few highlights. Find something a little more modern for you to wear. It’ll be fun. Trust me.”
.
Maybe it would be, Kelian thought, following her into a small silver trailer and the cluttered living space awaiting them. If nothing else, it would take her mind off the driving test and the fact that it was one more step Brody was taking away from her.
♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸♥¸¸.•*¨*•♫♪ ♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸♥¸¸.•*¨*•♫♪
.
The Displaced Banshee (A Brody’s Banshee short ) by Kristy K. James
