They were dead. From an outsider’s perspective, such was obvious - a matter of fact cemented in words like ‘corpse’ or ‘cadaver’. In-person, without the comfortable distancing of language, it took a while to settle. Ulick knew death in first world passing. Media, familial loss, and the odd pet. Loss of life at this scale was almost incomprehensible, the afore mentioned experience providing a poor frame of reference. Describing each person and their lovely purpling features would be as effective as stating, “10000 people died in an explosion.” Except, it would be a lot longer, and segmented into a self-contained depiction of gore.

So instead, here is a short story.

Gerald hissed. His brothers hissed. His sisters – who he had never met, were more inclined to quack. But not Gerald, oh no, he was a steam boiler with a hole punctured in the side. A proximity alarm of laboured breaths where effort was replaced with hissing. For what it matters, Gerald was much a Muscovy as he was an asshole. That is to say, Gerald was a whole lot of duck. A knee-high beast, with white and brown feathers puffed to their extremes. It filled his breast with illusory bulk and stupidity.

Ren barked. His brothers and sisters – who Ulick had never met, were also inclined to bark. He was a guardian – in his own eyes, who had to assert dominance upon his lessers. Chickens, cats, and ducks, the lot of them. Ren was also an asshole. Ulick supposed he was a dog too. Though he was a thin, rat-like thing with an oriental flair. A shin-high beast, with white features and a chest that begged for scratching. Oh, and like Gerald, he was an idiot.

Between them, they shared an unshakable bond. One of stupidity and mutual eagerness to establish dominance. Manliness is proven within gladiatorial spats of hissing and barking and violent displays. Cowardly ambushes and tactical retreats: webbed pitter-patters, or tail-tucked skittering.

They were hilarious.

It always began with little slaps. Every step Gerald made sounded as if plastic cheese were thrown against the concrete. All the while he hissed. The mohawk sporting fowl carried on terrible, flightless flaps charged. Ren was a selectively valiant thing, meeting Gerald with whiny barks, pitched within the throws of annoyance. One pinned the other – beaked maws fighting off toothed jaws. It was usually harmless – a funny event of the day, broken by sensible yelling and measured scolding.

Gerald’s attitude extended beyond these shows, seeping into general interactions and observations. Content to be close, but never touched, he followed everyone everywhere. Yard work was conducted above the eyes of a captive audience, hissing applause at every action. Not to mention the dumb little tail wags. In contrast, dissatisfaction was expressed with attacks. Charges and clamped beaks latched onto skin and clothes, tugging, and leaving odd bruises. Stalwart elders kicked him off, some sat on him and siblings ran screaming.

The drake was an angry boy. So much so Gerald’s brother got sick of him and decided to pin him to the ground and stand on top of him. Overall, the duck had an attitude and personality.

Things progressed, and during a bi-daily domestic dominance dispute, Ren had an idea. As Gerald fled, he took a nip. The tailfeather tasted like victory. Nectar of such potency and pride-swelling splendour became the dog’s vice. Before the week’s end, Gerald had six feathers to his tail.

Ulick did not see it happen on the eighth day. His sibling had noticed a smear of blood on the dog’s lip. Ulick checked the Ren’s gums but noticed nothing wrong. Then, it came to him. A quiet hissing, soft and pained and far too demure. Following it and the suddenly jubilant hound, Ulick smelt him before he saw Gerald. A creeping haze of fleshy something, lingering amongst the yellowing vines. Tearing it apart with gloved hands, he unveiled a hollow. A nest of sorts. Sat in the centre of it all, was Gerald. Facing away, and tailless. Something was very wrong.

Then, Ren playfully tugged Gerald’s leg.

A ripped gash of parted feathers. An exposing of what lay beneath, as if a ripped floorboard, not skin and muscle. An organ reminiscent of a bath bubble peeked past. Pink and containing some liquid, hidden under the horrid glare of light. It looked delicate. A stiff breeze away from popping.

Gerald did not hiss anymore.

For three days he sat in his cage. Where he sat and shat, refused water, and suffered in the summer heat. The flies were not kind. Ulick’s mother provided what treatment she could, including a soak within his pond – the goal was to remove the dried blood. Ulick found Gerald dead five minutes later. Upside down, drowned and stiff under a wriggling film of floating maggots.

There is no satisfying ending here, no resounding conclusion to rock your socks off. Just a man’s psyche distancing itself from the hundred Geralds before him.

They were slender, with thin little necks and swirling blocks of burn-scars. Tribal, in a word, their tools and keepsakes were of wood, twine, and stone. The occasional iron weapon shone to attention, the fresh-forged polish mirroring the dance of torches. These he took and piled by the cinnamon-salt pillar. Among their valuables, it was their robes that brought pause. Thick and robust, their stitch count was beyond perceivable in the low light. It felt and looked like a painting, gliding over the skin in solid brown strokes. An effect beyond the pocket and skill of pre-industrial natives.

To some, that may seem a stretch. After all, Ulick supposed he may very well still be on Earth, deep within the Amazon or some such. Considering the manner of arrival, Ulick had his doubts. Beyond them, more laid still, within the emotional side of things. Come ten minutes ago, he was a wreck. Vomiting and half a step from plunging into a weeklong panic. Detailing beyond this was a touch embarrassing, but know it was not pretty, nor manly. Nevertheless, the hundred Geralds had faded. First, they became almost distant – someone else’s problem, then a statistic. One hundred had died from mass something. And that worried Ulick. Had worried him, potentially. In ten minutes, he might no longer worry about being worried. Already something whispered that this was another’s issue, that there were important things afoot. That he did not want to know more. But he did.

The keen reader, or those indisposed to skim reading would have noticed an oddity in the paragraph above. “One hundred had died from mass something.” The call for flexibility was warranted. Signs of a struggle were inconsistent. Some had bruises lining their arms and throats, but for some, it seemed purposeful. Too consistent. Others looked to have cut themselves from life. Their wounds were conducted with the initial uncertainty of self-harm. Such deductions were beyond Ulick’s skill. Forensic science was not a passion or career of choice, and little leaps and connections seemed to form of their own volition.

That sweet smoker had changed him. How much was left of the original Ulick? That he did not want to know.

Acting under thoughtless prompt, Ulick came too, armed with all manner of weapons. Instincts unearned had expertly strapped daggers to each limb, and his lower back. By his side, a twisting haft of ashy wood curled up and into a point. Cast in iron, the point looked naturalistic – less manufactured and more an imitation of a branch.

“Okay,” Ulick said, grimacing. “Just… agh!” In one motion he violently gestured. “Want to explain yourself? What do you want!?”

No response.

Butt met the floor. “Fine, no, yeah. That’s cool.” He pointed to the sky-scraping trees with a flourish. “I will just wander through the corpses, and the trees and the leech-infested swamp in the dark and stumble across a princess or some shit.” Ulick slid a hand down his face. “That’s how these things work, right?”

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Stopping a moment to think, a realisation settled. “No bugs,” he whispered, scanning each shadow with a dark-blind eye. “No bugs… that’s not good.”

Something tugged his chest. A line passed through sensible stops and twists, laying the groundwork for another’s path. His path. That fucking thing had answered him and was all too smug about it.

“You think you’re funny?” Ulick asked, rising to a crouch. “Think you’re smart? Oh, the little human needs help, ha, ha, ha. What did you expect?” He gestured to himself. “Grab a man from rural Australia, drop him in a swamp, and watch him survive like a champ?”

Confused hurt siphoned through the tree line, pouring itself into him of its own will. The source was old. It was distinctly different from his… patron. A twist on the old, fuelled by wonder? No. It lacked encompassment. Intrigue? That lacked innocence. Hmm.

“Uhm, sorry?” He called, hands waving about. “Thought you were… someone else.”

Another’s watered terror bundled in a twist on a twist simmered the end of Ulick’s nose. That sting of heat blossomed, exploding in all-encompassing surprise.

“Okay?”

Something answered with a giggle.

Ulick whipped around but only saw silent, shadow-brushed trees.

“The dumbass hears us!” A tinkle of sour whispered. “What do we do!?”

Something sweet slapped his ears. “It’s frowning! No, no, no!” A fingernail pebble landed by his foot. “Smile you ape!”

“Oh no… you upset him Ettle. You need to say sorry, or mama will be mad,” begged a touch of uncertainty.

Though unseen, their voices wrought images of clacking pens, and helium laced children. They spoke fast. Crowding over one another in a torrent of word vomit, that took several seconds to sort. Ulick’s mouth took the initiative, leaving better thoughts in hindsight. “It’s kind of rude to call someone sleeping a dumbass behind his back, he might roll over and squish you.” A disapproving lilt colouring his words. “And I am frowning because I am a little concerned, not upset.”

Three flashes of surprise-fear-curiosity lit up. Then, something stirred. Plucking each emotion from its place, sorting them, then reallotted them such that each unknown entity embodied a sole emotion. Reeling back, as the thing brushed a fingernail across his forehead, he thought “Uh, excuse me? What?”

“What the hell was that?” he asked, touching his forehead.

Surprise, eyes wide said, “Oh! Oh! I know! I… think?”

“Of course, you know idiot,” Fear hissed. “The pea brain is the one who does not!”

“I resent that; you know? I mean, why would you not think that? We grew up together, right?” Curiosity begged, bordering on the edge of tears.

A garbled scream of frustration from Fear near swallowed his attempt to add, “I think she meant me.”

“I did mean you!”

“Oh, how do you figure?” Curiosity questioned.

“Yeah!” Surprise said breathlessly. “You’re smart!?”

“What the hell am I listening to?”

“Of course I know! I am the one that said it!” Fear said, high and shrill.

“Why didn’t you say so?”

“Yeah, I am kinda shocked.”

Holding a breath, he sidled away. “Let’s uh, leave?”

Still hidden, Fear made a noise of distress. “I did tell you! I… think?”

“Nope.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh. I’m sorry,” Fear murmured, shrinking back.

“Awww,” Curiosity said, clapping. “We forgive you. Isn’t that right Mr. Human?”

Surprise squawked. “Where did he go!?”

“Crap.”

“Down here. You can see me, right? Be a bit sil-”

“Oh! We’ll tell you if you tell us how you can see us, Mister!” Curiosity said, talking over him. “You look blind as a bat, with your silly torch. Do you want to get gobbled up?”

A surge of hunger. “We can help with that,” Fear growled.

“Ignoring that.”

“That is very one-sided I am afraid. I know you can see in the dark,” he said, smiling. “Well, I can guess as much at least. You any good at guesses?”

“A harmless question. How will they respond?”

Surprise clapped, circling unseen in a lazy arc. “I am the best at them! You will never get something by me …” they said, before trailing off. “Wait, what is your name again Mister?”

Ulick pursed his lips. “Answer pointless question, fold into digging for more information. Noted.”

“I never told you in the first place,” he said, something slick greasing his mouth. “Tell you what, I’ll give you a name if you explain what you three are.”

“I… didn’t want to say that? Something ain’t right. There’s an easy way out of that one at least, but…”

“Deal!” Surprise yelled.

“Wait! You idiot… Mama is going to be so mad,” Fear grumbled.

“Deal. Ulick.”

A creeping of malice returned to Surprise. “Oh, Ulick? Is that your full name, Ulick? You know Ulick, I don’t think Mama has heard a name like Ulick before.”

“It’s kind of reminding me of being drunk – are they screwing with my inhibitions?”

“Nope, that’s not my name at all. So, what are you, then?”

“Wait, that is!” Surprise yelled. “Perfectly fine. Huh?”

Curiosity tittered. “Mr. Ulick squeezed through the gape you call a mind, sister.”

“Rude. Now, your side of the bargain? You know what happens if you do-”

“Hmph. You never said when, idiot Ulick!” Surprise said, hollering haughty words spiked with points of anger. “And here I thought you were nice!?”

“I was? Is wanting to teach a frie-someone they should always think on a deal twice, even if it seems simple and true, mean? And here I was concerned with your future, Surprise.”

“What, how do you know my name!?”

“Huh, how’d he know that?”

“Mama…”

“Names have power – safe assumption. Named after emotions? Probable. Might be a trick. I should ask th- nope. Better idea.”

“Surprise, Curiosity, and Fear, how could I not know you?” He put a hand to his chest. “Are you teasing me?”

A growl on the lips, Fear said, “We never give our names. Ever!”

“Yeah! So, how’d you know Ulick? Huh?”

“I’m going to keep that pseudonym, I think.”

“I’ll explain more if you make good on your deal,” Ulick said, smiling. His eyes widened. “Now! You need to tell me now.”

“Tch. Almost,” Fear said, mumbling some grumbling.

“We’re fairies. Know what they are Mister?”

“A little, but that doesn’t explain what you are. Dancing around your end of th-”

“Fine!” Surprise yelled. “Stupid idiot.”

“If I am stupid, but tricked you… what does that make you?” Ulick said, smiling. Surprise replied by way of choking. “Also, that was a double negative. Are you complimenting me instead?” Placing a hand over his mouth, he looked away. “I’m flattered, but I am not looking for a relationship right now. Sorry.”

“You!”

“Me!” The yell caught them off guard. “Me!? I, I am still not distracted. Speak, Surprise.”

“God, they are doing a number on me.”

“Me!? Oh! Um, we’re like, nature spirits… I guess?”

“Like animals, trees, and stuff?”

“Eh, I guess?” Surprise said, humming. She gasped. “Idea!”

Most books would have you think fairies are dainty, waifish creatures with elements of nature: leaf clothing or dragonfly wings, for example. When Surprise darted into the light, she certainly looked the part of a shrunken human. But, she bore the makings of something primal. Her hair was black and tangled across the exponential slope they called a forehead. Ungroomed and untamed, she was an overgrowth of nature stifling the remains of nurture.

Surprise smiled with the grace of a recovering paraplegic straining against resistance bands. “Well? We’re pretty, right?”

“I will admit, you have an… allure of sorts?”

Surprise slid into her namesake like a well-oiled machine. “Really!?”

“It’s unconventional, but there is something there,” Ulick said, shrugging. “So, are you less about wildlife, and more cutting back and being an animal or something?”

“If I want to do it, I do it.”

“Explains their personalities.”

Ulick slowly settled into understanding. “Living on instinct, huh?” Surprise nodded so fast her hair cracked like a whip. “Neat. I don’t want to think, therefore I do.”

Surprise froze.

Eyes settled on him. Cold, and alien. Arguably as distressing, was the lack of metaphor. He could literally feel its eyes on him. Rolling around like peeled grapes in oil, they smeared a combination of hunger, calm, and patience. Rip-tear the meat, and spin-crush the prey. Another saw him. A cold, reptilian desire to bind-bite-swallow. They were distant – an issue best avoided by movement. Movement that needed to start now.

Looking to the sources, he said, “I believe we need to move.” Ulick looked to Surprise but frowned upon her absence. “Hello?”

No response, nor emotion.

“Crap.” He bit his lip. “Walk and think, A- Ulick. Walk and think.”

Keeping an eye on the reptilian somethings, he stalked forth. “Taking this torch is a dumb idea,” he thought, considering it. The swaying flames were low but deceptively bright. “But so is being blind. Catch-22 I guess.”

Some caveman instinct demanded he kept it, and the rarity of such a thing swayed his opinion in kind. Holding the low-burning fire at arm’s length, he waded forward. The soft mud of the bank, just past the corpses quickly gave way to ankle-deep water. He did not even have proper shoes. Just oddly shaped, wooden sandals. Digression aside, Ulick needed to move. The reptile would leave him alone upon spotting the corpses. Hopefully. Be kind of weird if it did not. That in mind, he began to wade through the water.

Wait. Were there leeches in there?