We pitched our tent in the perfect spot by the lake, surrounded by emerald giants.
Fairy-spotting was only a laugh for most people, but Thomas dug out this ancient contraption from the attic and he seemed determined to capture their image.
“Imagine what my Granddad would say,” he whispered. It was just us and the light bugs in the dark.
The storm roared down and chased us into our tent and out of our clothes, soaked and shivering. The Fairy Women never did come to dance on the lake, and the only picture Thomas took was mine.
I didn’t mind.
Alex Woodroe was raised—possibly by wolves—in Romania. She found her way into weird, transgressive fiction through a gateway in the woods and made a career out of doing terrible things to words in multiple languages. Her favorite horror story is Alice in Wonderland. Twitter: @AuthorWoodroe.