This Is Hell

"This is hell," I muttered, staring at the stairs. I had been sitting here for quite a while, but no one had bothered to say anything. It was all pretty hectic when I first arrived but now that things had calmed down, I was just superfluous to requirements.

I had pushed open the door, not expecting anything much. When I found a place filled with freaks almost as weird as myself, I was pretty encouraged: until I found that I couldn't get out again.

So I sat on the stairs, and there I was, waiting for someone to talk to me. My green, translucent tail whipped around happily, but I sat on it. It was irritating. I stroked my legs. They had returned to their normal state. Phew, I thought. No more bright orange for me, thank you. Soft and green, that was what I wanted.

Just translucent enough that I could see through them at sunset and sunrise, but at no other time of day. Check, check. Everything was back to normal.

It occured to me that nobody was ever going to say anything unless I made the first move. Perhaps they were scared of me. I mean, they were pretty weird too, so I couldn't see why ...

A girl walked past with a mouse on her shoulder. Definitely crazy. Who did that?

I stood up, unfolding my soft wings. They flapped against my back, glad to be released from the prison that was my t-shirt. I usually kept them under there, despite the specially modified holes in it to allow them freedom.

You know, it's pretty hard to be a pixie in a human world.

The End

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