The Spiderplant Chronicles
Please don’t die.
You’re my last hope for joining the Court of Seelie.
You know, the good faeries. The Tinkerbells and Merryweathers of the Otherworld, the ones who grant wishes and pay kids a dollar for their baby teeth. I want to roll with that crew, and I need you to help me do it!
Why? Well… okay let me go back to the beginning. I’ll make it brief, ‘cause I’ve got to study for finals.
My ancestry is a bit mixed. I’m all faerie on my mother’s side, but my father’s side of the family is a mess. I… well, I’m a bit ashamed to say it, but I’ve got some mortal admixture in me. Hey, it’s not my fault! A few of them were switched out for changelings anyway, and were raised in the Otherworld as faeries, so they really shouldn’t count! But to complicate things even further, apparently one of those mortals, a long ways back, was a fisherman who married a selkie, so even the mortal line of me isn’t fully mortal?
It’s very confusing, and since mortal admixture dilutes fae blood and, by extension, fae magic, the Seelie want me to prove I have powers before they admit me into their tooth faerie apprenticeship program.
Hey! Would you stop wilting at me like that! You’re making me feel bad admitting all of this! Being 1/16th selkie is nothing to be ashamed of! And… oh, alright, I’m not being totally honest with you. That’s probably why you’re wilting, right? You don’t like lies. Fine. Here’s the truth. The Seelie don’t just want me to prove I have powers. They want me to prove I have good powers.
Yes, little spider plant, I know I have powers, and the Seelie know I have powers. They’re just… ugh. I… can transform people into stuff, okay? Like, inanimate objects. Only they’re not really inanimate, because their minds get stuck in whatever they’re turned into.
I don’t turn people into stuff though, honest! There was just that one time, back when I first got my powers and I accidentally transformed this woman sitting on the bus into a pencil. Okay? And that was it! That was the only time I ever transformed anyone!
And look, the Seelie were really, I mean really angry when they found that out. Because you’re not supposed to transform mortals, like at all, ever. That’s Unseelie behavior. But it was an honest mistake, and, well, I did need a No. 2 pencil for my exam that morning, so it worked out in a way I suppose. It’s not like it hurt her or anything- sure, I guess she didn’t enjoy being a pencil, but I got some good use out of her. You see those sketches hanging up on my wall? The deer and the Disney characters and the portrait of my grandma? All her, baby. One-hundred percent pure mortal graphite. No, no, don’t give me that look, it’s not like that- if I hadn’t used her up, she’d still be stuck as a pencil! It’s impossible to change someone back. At least this way her spirit was released! But, ah, enough about that…
Anyway, the Seelie Court gave me you, to prove I can use magic for good things too. Exercising my green thumb and all that. So, if I can nurture you and help you grow from a humble spiderplant into a Faerie Plum, I’ll have my no-further-questions asked admittance to the Seelie Court- then I can kiss the mortal world goodbye, don a pair of dragonfly wings, and flit around all night collecting baby teeth from the children of the world.
But you’re dying!
Why are you doing this? Don’t you want to help me out? All you have to do is grow! That’s what plants do, right? Grow? So, grow already! Stop wilting on me! I’ve given you your water, you’re at a south-facing window getting the kind of sunlight most wild plants only dream about, and your soil must be pretty decent, considering the price I paid for it!
Alright, alright. You’re right. Yelling at you isn’t going to accomplish anything. I’m just frustrated. And a little scared, to be honest. If the Seelies reject my application- if you die on me- my options are basically to try to live a normal, mortal life- as if- or join the Unseelies, who would happily encourage me to wreak havoc on the mortal world. I don’t like that idea, Spidey- can I call you Spidey? I think we’ve been acquainted long enough for you to have a nickname. And you can call me Angie.
See, the Unseelies are the baddies of the Otherworld. They’re the ones who make those nasty, unfair agreements with mortals, where if the mortal reneges they suffer some horrible fate. You know, “collect every acorn-lid you ever come across or else I’ll take your eyes!” Or those lame exact-wording agreements, where someone will wish to an Unseelie to be able to dance like Fred Astaire, and then the Unseelie grants the wish and the guy dances until he dies. Those are the Unseelie. They’re not nice! You don’t really want me to join them, do you?
I really don’t want to be bad, Spidey. I’m trying to be good. Pencil-girl was an accident, but if I join the Unseelie they’ll make me do that to hundreds of other people, maybe even thousands. And I mean, in a way you’re closer kin to humans than I am, right? Faeries are from the Otherworld, so that portion of my ancestry is totally alien to Earth. I’ve only got a teensy bit of mortal in me. But you’ve shared this world with humans for… well, as long as there have been humans and spider plants, I guess. You guys are like family, next to me. So, if you help me, you’re sort of looking out for your super, super-duper distant cousins! I think that makes sense, at least.
Alright, enough pep-talk. I’m going to give you some water, then I’ve got to study for my history final- Mr. Flunkenstein’s been more merciless than the Seelie as far as my grades are concerned…
I just really don’t want to be evil, y’know? I want to be good. I didn’t mean to turn that woman into a pencil, and I’m real sorry about it- I would have changed her back if it were possible. I want to be the tooth faerie, not the one who turns people into toads if they cross me.
I- heeeeey, is that a plum-bud on your newest runner? Oh my God, it is a plum-bud! A real Faerie Plum! I can’t believe it! Oh, you are the best! We’re gonna ace this, Spidey!
In the interest of improving my writing, I dug an old book out of my closet titled “642 Things To Write About”, which was given to me as a birthday present by my uncle some years ago. It’s exactly what it sounds like- six-hundred and forty-two writing prompts. It’s a neat book; apparently it was written in a single day with contributions from several dozen writers. I intend to write something for every single one of these prompts, not as a daily exercise, but not irregular either.
This is the third entry in this series- substantially more frivolous than my previous works, but I had fun writing it- written after prompt #3 - “A houseplant is dying. Tell it why it needs to live.”
The header image was painted by Sherry Robinson.