Fairy of Tapestries. Horror stories about fairies and demons. Natalie Yacobson

of nettles burns fairies, then elves, probably, too.

      Soon they came. It was not yet dark, but melodic laughter was already ringing in the meadow. Beauties danced there. They all had bare feet. Clawed hands. The backs are winged. They moved so fast that they seemed dangerous. They can knock them off their feet if you approach them. The whole picture resembled Polovtsian dances, and if you consider that some fairies still grew horns or thorns made of skin, like living roses.

      “So go!” the elf pushed her.

      With a wingless back, Lotte felt stupid. In vain her new acquaintance tried. They will understand at first glance who she is.

      And the fairies understood. Barely a dry branch crunched under her foot, as dozens of pairs of surprised eyes rushed at her.

      “She came herself,” the fairy with branchy antlers, like a deer’s, disbelieved.

      “Come here, dear”, almost affectionately called her fairy with the bindweed growing from the skin. “Treat yourself to the gifts of our land”.

      It was just beginning to get dark, and a festive table with baskets of ripe fruits suddenly appeared in the meadow. Lotte looked him over. These are neither plums, nor peaches, nor apples, nor apricots, not even mangoes or quince. All fruits here simply do not have a name in humans. But how seductive they are.

      “Eat me! Eat it up! Take a bite! Take a sip of our juice! Bite through the skin!” squeaked thin voices from the table.

      Is this fruit talking to her? Doesn’t she dream? Lotte looked at the fairies. No, don’t dream.

      “I do not want!” She said firmly.

      The horned fairy snapped her fingers, and the table disappeared, and the fruits from it scattered across the grass in vile colorful creatures. Well! Well to be sure. And she almost bit off of this!

      “Don’t break!” one of the fairies approached her, holding out a red fruit. Lotte suddenly felt that she could not move, as if the whole body was tied with ropes. This is how the magic of the fairies is chained. The elf stood behind a meadow under the shade of an elm tree and watched everything from a safe distance. He definitely won’t help. Most likely, he amuses himself at the sight of her helplessness. The fairy thrust the fruit directly into the lips of the motionless Lotte.

      “Take a bite!”

      A little more and would have to. But then the fairy screamed herself – burned herself, accidentally hitting the wreath.

      “Leave her!” the horned fairy took its bearings first. “She doesn’t want to eat, let her not eat. Let’s better dance with her”.

      Everyone giggled at once, as if it meant: let’s push her off the cliff. The music started playing. Lotte felt that she was free. She could move, but she could not get out of the fairies’ round dance. The legs began to dance themselves. That’s the fairies’ joke. She won’t be able to stop until they let her. So you can dance for centuries. She will grow old and die, unable to stop. Something needs to be done.

      The moonlight was just silvery over the meadow. Lotte plucked some nettle leaves from her wreath and tossed them at the faces of the fairies dancing alongside.

      “It burns! Bastard!” Several fairies tried to shove and scratch her, but each burned again on her wreath. How does this come out? Their clawed hands reach out to her shoulders and face, and invariably attack the nettle wreath. It attracts them like a magnet.

      The horned fairy tried to cling to her throat, and burned the most. The burns did not go away instantly, which was especially surprising for the fairies.

      “What do you want?”

      “Let my sister go”.

      The fairies didn’t want to agree, but the burns were blistering on their skin more and more.

      “Okay. This is a little”, they finally decided.

      “You have to be defeated by the village healer,” they lamented as they left.

      Didn’t they give up too easily? Lotte stared after them in disbelief. The motley winged flock quickly disappeared. Instead of them, Lida stood in the meadow, pale and speechless, in the same heavy old dress as hers, only of a burgundy hue.

      “She cannot leave if you don’t give her your wreath,” the elf said.

      Lotte obediently took off the wreath and put it on her sister’s head.

      “That’s good!” the elf was already standing nearby. He changed somehow. Dressed up. He became taller. And much prettier. His eyes were just shining.

      “What happened to you?”

      “You defeated them!”

      “But what is to you?”

      “That means I’m in charge now”.

      “So what?”

      “You helped me. I myself could not handle it”.

      “I’m glad, but will you take me back. I myself can hardly find my way”.

      “Oh, yes…” the elf hesitated slightly. “You see, the problem is I can’t let you go”.

      Well, at least Lida has already left. No, she didn’t. She just disappeared. Only a wreath of nettles lay in the meadow where she had recently stood.

      “What have you done to her?”

      “Nothing, you only saw a ghost from the moonlight. The real Lida has already found herself a mate in my domain. She does not even remember that she came to us from people”.

      “But I remember,” Lotte darted for the wreath, but the elf intercepted her. “You know, I’ve also been looking for a couple for a long time. But not a resigned old maid, but a clever dancer who will be able to plug even a flock of fairies into her belt”.

      There was a red light in his eyes, like a fire in a meadow. He was no longer handsome, the features of a monster woke up in him. As she hadn’t noticed before, elves can be even more terrifying than vampires.

      “You will not be able to intoxicate me with your fruit”.

      “My kiss is no less dangerous than fruit.” He closed his long fingers around her burned wrists.

      Fight with a dream

      I’m a princess. Grooms are obliged to fight for my hand. Such are the conditions in our country. Nothing can be done about them. Tradition is tradition. It doesn’t matter how many kings have war elephants, knights and treasures as a gift for me. Each of the aspirants must take on the battle with my giant protector. Nobody knows that I will actually fight. And you can’t defeat me. After all, a spell has been put on me. I kill and maim suitors one by one. Serves them right! There is nothing to marry a girl just because of her inheritance. What is the way to marry for profit and without love? Such suitors deserve a fair punishment. I go out to the lists, where tournaments usually take place, and enter the battle without any remorse. I know that I am much stronger and more agile than my opponents. It doesn’t matter that they fought wars and I didn’t. It is important that the most skilled knight of all existing is me. But I have a little black secret that no one knows about.

      My father the king is pouting. After all, when he dies, I myself will rule the country. I won’t have a husband, because no one can defeat me. And the condition that the groom must certainly go through the duel cannot be canceled in any way. The honor of the whole kingdom will suffer from this. The only thing that matchmakers can do is to put up some stronger opponent, for example, a giant or a magician. These tricks did not work with me either. I always conquer everyone. Every country can only dream of a queen like me. My father is angry with me, but he cannot do anything. He, too, begins to fear me, seeing how easily I defeat even the greatest warriors in battle.

      When I become a queen, I will go to war to all nearby countries