At night, a child’s bedroom is a grey gloom of pretty things shrouded in shadow: an assortment of daytime toys waiting quietly as children sleep in the half-light. Maisie and Martin’s room was no different. Normal in every way, except for the faint glow of silver-pink light that floated in from between their bedroom curtains. A soft aura of minuscule powder sparkles and the shape of something small and magical within the light. A fairy.
Butterfly wings worked to a blur, carrying the visitor over to Maisie, where it hovered, and without a sound, gently lifted the girl’s pillow to exchange tooth for coin.
But it was interrupted.
Maisie’s eyes opened and she smiled. The menacing smile of a six-year-old missing her two front teeth.
“Gotcha!” Martin shouted with delight, and as the tooth fairy turned to face the boy in the next bed, he blasted her with a jet of fly spray. The tooth fairy coughed, covered her face with tiny hands, and flew away in retreat. Straight into a box, which Maisie instantly lidded shut. Captured!
“It worked,” Maisie chuckled, and gave the box a shake.
Martin wrung his hands together and grinned. “How much money do you think a tooth fairy carries?” He took the box from his sister and put his ear against it.
Maisie reached under her bed and produced a zip bag of wicked things. “Let’s find out,” she said, pulling a penknife from the bag and passing it to her brother.
Cutting a slit in the lid, Martin brought his lips close. “Listen here, little fairy. Post your coins through that gap. All of them. Or else!”
“Or else we’ll throw the box, and you, on the fire,” Maisie added.
“Please,” came a soft whimper from within.
“Do it!” Martin snapped, then gave the box another shake. “If you want to go free, you better do as you’re told.”
“And hurry up about it,” Maisie added.
A moment of quiet as the dazed prisoner recovered her bearings, then a small gold coin slid out through the gap. Cackling with glee, Maisie snatched it up and examined it. Another coin followed the first. Then another. And another. Coins continued to emerge through the slit in the box lid, instantly grabbed by greedy fingers.
Then the tiny voice came again: “There are no more.”
“You sure?” Martin growled in a threatening tone. “We don’t like tricksters.”
As Martin began counting their stolen treasure, Maisie leaned in to whisper, “We punish them.”
“I promise.” A sniff followed the timid voice. “Please let me go.”
Maisie picked up her penknife and tested the sharpness of its point with a finger. “Well?”
“Thirty-five,” said Martin. “Good enough?”
Maisie thought about it for a moment, clicked the penknife shut, and gave a nod.
Once again, Martin pushed his lips to the lid. “No funny business or we’ll clip your wings. Okay?”
A frightened murmur: “Yes.”
Martin lifted the lid, and the fairy darted out in a flash. A silver-pink blur, then darkness as the fairy disappeared behind the curtains and was gone.
Maisie and Martin laughed triumphantly. They scooped coins, penknife, and fly spray into the bag of wicked things and climbed back into their beds, their fiendish plan a great success.
Come morning, the twins awoke from a night of vivid dreams and peeled their faces from blood-caked pillows. Screams rang out as fingers pawed at deep holes in raw toothless gums.
Another visit had concluded matters, and the greedy children had paid their debt in full.
James Hancock is a writer/screenwriter of comedy, thriller, horror, sci-fi, and twisted fairy tales. A few of his short screenplays have been made into films, and he has been published in print magazines, online, and in anthologies. He lives in England with his wife and two daughters. And a bunch of pets he insisted his girls could NOT have.