Color me Blue

The day was a musty, cloudy, colorless type of day, which made you want to pull the covers back over your head and stay in bed all day. But not I. I leapt out of my comfortable Sherpa blanket and hit the floor running. I had to be at work thirty minutes prior to opening my eyes.

"This isn’t my day," I cried to the mirror as I swiftly ran the brush over all thirty-two of my pearly whites and spit out the green glob of suds that left the minty taste in my mouth. I hopped on one leg, trying to push the boundaries of my athleticism to get my pants up around my knee before inserting the other foot into the empty hole waiting patiently for its mate. I gave one last pull before my desire to get dressed forced me to say some rather uncouth epitaphs.

Sliding a shirt over my head that was reasonably wrinkle-free, I ran to the kitchen and grabbed the last donut from the box on the countertop left by my loving husband of twenty years. A fresh pot of coffee had been brewed, prior to his leaving and I poured the remainder into my giant travel mug, already holding the measured amount of sugar and cream. Taking a small sip, I sighed, “Babe you’re a peach.”

The car sat alone in the condominium’s parking garage, waiting for me to take it for its daily commute into the big city. I fancied that it had friends at my firm’s parking garage and was eager to catch up on the daily commuter gossip. I started the engine and listened to the hum, while the garage door screeched and moaned to rise to the occasion; I really needed to speak to management about the garage door.

The drive into the city was unremarkable, like any other day, if you ignore the cars that cut you off, the instances of road rage, and the fifty signal lights that turned red as you approached. Just like all the other days this week. I was not in a rush, per say. But the need to arrive before the day was over was paramount to me not getting fired.

My trip up the elevator shaft was uneventful, most everyone else had arrived on time so I was the only occupant in the elevator. Stepping off on my floor, my co-workers all turned in unison staring. Ignoring the looks I took my seat among the ten or so other employees, separated by partitions—high enough to prevent conversation once seated, but low enough to see over the top when standing.

The computer fired up on first try and I logged in and began my daily task of data entry. It wasn’t a glamorous job but it paid the bills and kept me out of trouble. A stream of code, small and barely noticeable popped up in the lower right hand of the screen. I clicked on it and the screen turned black, purple, then suddenly blue. A sentence formed on the background in white lettering, with a small box blinking after the period.

If you are reading this, please help me. I am trapped and you are the first person to acknowledge my plea.

How do you handle something like that? I hovered my cursor over the blinking box. Click. The screen went crazy and I felt light-headed, then my vision skewed and I passed out.

“Are you okay,” she asked.

Hovering over me with her hair covering half her face was a tiny woman. Were those wings? Not a woman, a fairy maybe, or a pixie; one of those mythical creatures you heard about growing up but knew they weren’t real.

“I’m fine...who? What are you and what is going on?”

“I asked for help and you answered,” she said, no emotion, no facial expression changes.

I tried to recall my last few moments before finding myself on the floor looking up at this, this, “What are you?” I asked again, not really wanting to know the truth, but needing to know all the same.

“I am a nymph, specifically a wood nymph. We exist in the forest, never seen unless we allow it,” she replied, still stony faced.

“Another question, if I may, what the hell just happened and where did you come from,” I asked. Now that my head was starting to think again, I needed answers. Six-inch adults with wings just don’t exist. I had to be hallucinating.

I sat up and rubbed my head. There was a goose-egg bump on the back and I remembered how it got there. The computer screen, the blinking cursor; I clicked on it and the world went askew and I fell backwards. Yes, that was it. Definitely a hallucination. I blinked a couple of times.

“I was caught by a photographer and trapped in that thing,” she said, pointing at the computer.

“No, no, no, your not real,” I said loudly, trying to convince myself that this could not possibly be happening. “Ouch. That hurt.”

“Now do you believe me. I’m real, you saved me,” she said, holding a handful of my hair.

A co-worker appeared, “Janey, are you okay.”

My name’s Jan, but they never get it right. “Yes, Marsha, I’m fine. I was a little light-headed and missed the chair,” deliberately getting her name wrong. Margaret was the office gossip; I knew that the moment I left for the day, everyone in the building would know what happened.

I pulled myself up and straightened my clothes and ran my hands through my hair before taking my seat once again.

“Thank you for saving me,” the tiny whatever it was said, stepping across my lap.

“You’re still here? I thought my hallucination was over and done with,” wondering why Margaret hadn’t freaked out seeing the little woman-thing.

“Only you can see me,” she said.

“Wait, how did you know I what I was thinking,” I asked, now curious about what this creature could do.

“I am tired after being trapped for so long. Can we discuss this later? Once you get me to your home” she answered.

I watched as she slipped into my bag and disappeared into one of the side pockets. Well I guess that answered my next question of how it was going to get home with me unnoticed.

The rest of my day was uneventful, getting my quotas in under the deadline cheered me up slightly. I logged off my computer, shut it down, and headed for the elevator. My only thoughts were on getting home and hoping that my husband had stopped for Chinese on the way home. My head was throbbing from my fall, and I really did not feel like cooking.

My bag started moving about on the seat beside me and I slammed on brakes. Horns honking behind me encouraged me to lift my foot off the brake and pull over to the curb.

It wasn’t a dream, there she/it was climbing out of my bag and rubbing her/its eyes as if it were a person and had just woke up.

“Are we there yet,” she asked, yawning.

A row of razor-sharp pointy teeth revealed in the moment gave me pause. Not a her, an it. It was not human, it was a creature, capable of producing a nasty bite if cornered, or angered.

“Not yet, it is still a little ways from here. Did you have a nice nap,” I asked, keeping it light after seeing those teeth.

“Yes, your bag was very comfortable.”

I checked the traffic and pulled out in front of a slowed truck making a turn behind me. The rest of the drive, the nymph sat on the dash and watched the scenery flow by. I finally pulled into the garage and opened my bag and pointed, “My husband is home and he wouldn’t understand.”

It hopped into the bag without comment and I proceeded into the house.

“Honey, I’m home. Did you happen to stop and get dinner,” I asked, hoping.

“Yours is in the fridge, I got out a little early and didn’t want yours to go bad. I already ate. Do you mind if I don’t join you, I have a ton of contracts to go over before bed,” he replied from his office.

“Sure hon, I will see you when you come to bed and thanks for the chow, I’m starved.”

I pulled the takeout bag from the fridge, slightly disappointed that it wasn’t the Chinese food I had hoped for. It was a hoagie from the deli across from my husband’s firm.

“May I have a bite? I have not eaten since my entrapment,” the little nymph asked, opening its maw.

I pinched off a mouthful and handed it over, almost losing the tip of my finger in the process.

“Why are you still here? Shouldn’t you be heading back to your forest, wherever that is,” I asked.

“Alas, I am unable to go home until I return the favor. It has to be of equal value to the savior, without being requested. So far, I see little evidence that you are in need my help.”

I gulped, “You mean you’re stuck here until you selflessly save me from something huge?”

“Yes, until you need something on the magnitude of what you did for me…”

Pity overwhelmed me for a second as I thought about the life of this creature who’s life had been disrupted by the flash of a digital camera. How could it possibly save me from a similar situation? I doubted if anyone was planning on kidnapping me.

“Is there something I can do to ease your discomfort while waiting to save me?”

“Now that you have asked, I long for greenery. Your home is sterile and devoid of plants and soil. I long to sit on a rotted log in a forest.” It said, glancing gloomily at its surroundings.

“I can drive you to the end of the street, there’s a park there with trees, but no rotted logs, we would have to travel further,” I replied, hoping it would be agreeable.

Its eyes focused on me for a brief moment, “That will be agreeable to me. Greenery and soil is all I requested.”

I opened my bag and pointed, yelling to my husband as the creature settled in my bag, "Honey, I going to the park. I am needing fresh air. Be back in an hour." He needed to know where I disappeared to in case I didn’t return. You can never be too safe these days.

The drive took less than five minutes. If I wasn’t thirty pounds overweight, I could’ve walked it. I got out of the car and found a bench to sit on and opened my bag. It hopped out a flew to the nearest tree.

I sat for a good hour, until the sun started sinking.

“Hand over the bag, lady,” a voice said quietly in my ear. I felt my pulse quicken, something poked my back sharply. I fumbled with the bag I had sat on the ground, it was jerked out my hand as a sharp pain stabbed my head.

I awoke a little while later; my bag in my lap. The nymph was staring at me.

“This is where we part. The thief will never trouble you again. I saved you and can return home now.”

No emotion, no hesitancy. It disappeared into the sunset. My head throbbed, reaching up, I felt a sticky warmth. Nobody would ever believe my story. I headed back home, showered and went to bed, hoping it had all been a dream, but the knot on my head would probably prove me wrong. I knew better than to dwell on the fact that the thief was on the ground unmoving when I left.