FAIRY TALE IN MEDWAY

By Ed Ainsworth

Now

“I’ll ask you once more.” Elsa’s words were dripping with anger and frustration. The field was expansive, sheep everywhere. Brian looked completely out of his element, the Union Jack T-Shirt underneath a short jacket and jeans, with large motorcycle boots. He wasn’t in costume today, but he still wore the flag underneath to show his allegiance.

Elsa looked over her shoulder to Brian, who had a face, pushing his lips to the other side of his jaw, and raising his eyebrows, while she clicked the safety off her shotgun, pressing it to the back of her victim’s neck.

“What’s the hell is going on here?” The goat looked up from under the wide brimmed hat it wore, the large, purple feather sticking out of the leopard print running around the length of the hat.

Two other goats, in equally bizarre clothing lay bleeding from head wounds on either side of him, while the sheep, many of which were wearing make-up, hanging around the edge of the bridge leading across a small river, looking utterly terrified.

“I’m fairly certain this is going to give me horrific Freudian dreams over the next few years,” Brian admitted, as a sheep rubbed itself against his leg and looked up through beautifully voluminous eyelashes.

“I don’ have t’ talk to you, bitch,” the Goat spat, causing another incredulous look from Brian, as Elsa lost her patience and emptied the shotgun into the back of its neck.

Three minutes of full silence hung heavily in the air, as neither Elsa nor Brian made eye contact with each other, as the quite squelching of Druid’s footsteps brought him closer to the scene of the crime.

He grunted, before reaching down and pushing his fingers into the hot brain fragments.

“Something on your mind?” he said, smirking and looking at Elsa. She’d already turned around to walk away from him, and Brian simply sighed and looked into the sky, hands on hips.

“I don’t feel you appreciate me.”

Earlier That Morning

It’s the same thing every day. Brian wakes up around nine-thirty, rolling out of bed in his pants and wanders over to the fridge across his filthy kitchen floor. Times are hard, house prices have gone up, and without Meggan around he didn’t want the Manor anymore. So he sold it; too many hard memories there for him to get on with.

It’s difficult, when you lose a loved one, to come to terms with it, especially when everything in the house reminds you of her. When every time you look into the mirror you see a shadow that could be part of her, it starts to play tricks with your brain.

That was all months ago, he’s been living in Medway towns since then. He’s not sure why. It’s an appropriate distance from there to London to commute every morning, and the people are always so friendly. Well, that’s a lie, the only one who’s actually nice to me is Mr. Hassan in the corner shop, and that’s only because he doesn’t call him racist names, or swear at him when he won’t sell him beer.

He looks across the small flat over to where his current girlfriend sits, sipping her tea and wishing she could shoot the people on TV. It’s normally about the right time for Jeremy Kyle to come on by the time he’s up and washed. He cannot believe an idiot like him has his own TV show; it’s enough to make him want to punch himself in the groin.

His current girlfriend is good for him. She is, honestly, nothing like Meggan. Nothing at all, and that’s what he wants. She’s aggressive, angry, and very, very confident.

He wishes she was more like Meggan.

He still remembers the first day they met.

The Night Before

Sweat beaded over her forehead as the dreams began to build in their intensity, Images of Dystopian Future. He rolled onto his front, panting and sweating, his straggly hair soaked the pillow, as twigs, conkers and leaves fell from his peeling flesh. He took a rasping breath through gritted teeth and pulled himself out of the bed.

“Fuckin’ arsehole wanking shitfucks.”

Anthony Druid wasn’t the way he used to be. He imagined himself to be something of a mortal autumn. Every season he would change the way he acted, the way he moved, the way his looked. This season he was clearly related to plant life. As he walked to the bathroom of his shitty apartment, his body glistening with sweat, he pulled off his dressing gown.

He looked down at himself and sighed, pulling an acorn out of his beard.

“I’m never going to get laid with a twig for a dick.”

The Morning of the Day Before

“Today we have a very special guest with us, his name is Captain Britain,” Fern Britton announced on This Morning, England’s premier morning television show for job seekers, single parents and the scumbags of England.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to have you on the show,” Phillip Schofield smiled, and gestured towards the fully dressed Captain on the sofa. He looked fairly relaxed, arms over the back of the sofa, and smiling.

“Good Morning,” he smiled, his words signing from his mouth.

“We’ll get straight into the questions, shall we? Robert Orme from Cornwall asks – ‘If you’re holding Excalibur aren’t you the King of England?’”

Brian smiled, as though he’d heard this question many times before.

“Well, apparently, but I have no interest in being part of the Monarchy.”

“Why not, Captain?”

“Well, I don’t need to be a part of the Monarchy, do I?”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, then I wouldn’t be as effective as I am now.”

“Are you suggesting that the Monarchy does nothing?”

“No, not at all.”

“But isn’t that what you just said?”

“Next Question.”

“Where were you on the July Seventh?”

Brian’s face dropped, and at the moment, he wanted to get the hell out of the studio.

The Morning After

“Have you seen the headline today, Brian?” Elsa grinned viciously through her teeth, and threw the un at him.

“’British Super flop declares Monarchy Ineffectual.’ Ohhh…Fuck.”

“They described you quite well didn’t they?” He stroked a hand across his shoulders into his lap.

“I hate you.” It wasn’t a joke either, he genuinely hated her and his life at this moment, but he felt trapped, and this was the only sort of release he had.

“Then show me, you self-satisfying piece of shit.”

That Evening

Brian sat on the Sofa, as both Elsa and Druid talked in hushed tones about the disturbing things they’d seen. Elsa was a monster hunter, from a long line of monster hunters. She was strong, powerful, fast and angry. So very, very angry at the world. Superior as well.

Anthony was exactly the same only he was angry for a different reason. He’d died and come back, as Brian had many times, but this time, he’d come back much more different than before. A tree man, almost. Connected to nature in a way no man had been for centuries. He was the last druid of our times, he was the last man connected to England in a way no other hand been connected, and he looked at Brian with disdain, distrust and disgust.

They didn’t like him that much, he felt. Even Elsa, the woman he had horrible, angry sex with on a nightly basis, or like earlier try to physically hurt each other with the act of physical love. They were heroes in England who felt that England had abandoned them.

There was a loud knock at the door, and both Elsa and Anthony looked at him.

“Fine, I’ll get the door shall I?” He shook his head and grasped the handle to open the door.

“Brian…” Roma fell into his arms, blood caked and broken. Her right shoulder was dislocated and the ulna was shattered. She had bullet wounds all over her body, scrapes and cuts over her face, and black eyes.

“What happened?” He cradled her head, and looked into her eyes.

“We…I…we’re invaded, Brian,” she said with tears in her eyes, blood red tears that carved crimson trails down her face as she passed into unconsciousness.

Brian sat by Roma’s bed, blood seeping from her many wounds. He looked out the window as the light seemed be absorbed around him by Anthony Druid, who worked fervently with crisp fingers that cracked with every exertion and every movement. The lights were all on but the room was black, all light being drawn into his growing fingers, leaves constantly sprouting off his knuckles, and drying up into dust.

Roma spasmed every now and then, the light being thrown back out into the room with great bursts. Elsa stood in the corner, arms crossed and sunglasses on.

“Brian…My Champion…” she rasped, the words sounding like slate against sand. Anthony pressed his fingers over her mouth, as he dug his entire hand into her body, shoots and roots exploding from underneath her shattered fingernails and digging through the floorboards.

“I need to leave.” Brian got to his feet and grabbed his three-quarter length jacket from the door handle.

“Of Course you do, Brian,” Elsa spat, removing her glasses to give him a disapproving look. “Can’t stomach the real stuff, can you?”

“There’s nothing real about someone having roots come out of their fingernails, Elsa. Don’t expect me back soon.”

Brian slammed the door and walked out onto the cold, dark streets. The birds in the trees were restless, seemed to be more crows and rooks about tonight. He glanced up into the cloud-coated sky.

{Brian…} His mind whirled a little as Roma made contact, broadcasting into his brain. {Brian…Something has happened to other world…We were Invaded, and it’s infected things…}

He stopped in the street, as the rain cascaded around his body, birds cawing from the trees as the final vestiges of light dipped below the horizon line.

“What sort of changes?”

{Merlin’s dead, Brian. Otherworld is gone as you knew it. I’ve dissolved the Captain Britain Corps and released Opal and myself into this world. It’s the myths and legends, Brian. The Fairy tales went insane. They killed the Green Knight, and they murdered Merlin in his sleep. Oh God, Brian. It was…}

Her words died off, and he clenched his fists, every one of his knuckles cracking in this movement. He took a deep sigh, leaning backwards and letting the water wash over his face.

“Who was it, Roma, I know you’re hurting, but please, let me avenge you and Otherworld. Who Invaded Otherworld, and how did they Kill Merlin?”

There was silence for a few moments, and a dull scream from his house down the street. Brian closed his eyes and leant against a brick building, collecting water on his upturned face as the rain poured down with increased volume.

{…Brian…} it was fainter now, her voice echoed a little inside his head.

He paused, placing his hands against the Brick wall and leaning against it, splaying one leg out behind his body.

“Are you alright, Roma? No, that’s a stupid thing to ask. Roma, what happened?”

}We we’re attacked, Brian…But, the things that attacked us aren’t what killed Merlin. }

Brian paused. This was…Vague. Deliberately vague, almost as though it were some horrible story being drawn out for whatever was telling its amusement.

“What killed Merlin, Roma? Since you’re dragging this out.”

There was a long pause again, followed by a dull scream from the edge of the street. Brian looked over his shoulder and slid down the side of the building, the tears building on the edges of his eyes.

“The Corps are gone, Meggan’s gone, and I’m stuck in Medway of all places, and now you’re telling me that Merlin’s dead, Otherworld is knackered, and you’re half-way out of the door yourself.”

{It was the Princesses, Brian. They killed Merlin.}

“The Princesses of What? Who, Roma? Who was it?”

{It was the Fairy tales Brian. They’ve gone wrong…}

Brian’s eyes widened and he raced back towards the house, slamming on the door to get Elsa to open it before the light exploded out of the windows and the door, throwing him off his feet and onto his back. Roma’s spirit force shot through the top of the house, raining the street in tiles, bricks and the chimney stack.

“Fuck a duck,” Druid said, completely black and charred, walking out of the front door, with a relatively unscathed and naked Elsa behind him.

“I’d rather not.” Brian got to his feet and brushed himself down.

“Roma spoke to you?” Druid asked, scratching his now completely bald face, and peeling off a layer of burning leaf.

“Yeah,” Brian said, turning away from the duo and looking across the street. House lights were turning on all over the place, as he pushed his hands into his pockets.

“She told us, too. Well, some of it. I think we got different bits. She told us that we’re going to need to do some maintenance.”

“Maintenance?” Brian questioned.

Elsa sighed, and grabbed him by the arm.

“Roma told us this – Fairy tales are now corrupted and loose in England, and they’re going to start hurting a lot of people. So, we have to go and kill them, because otherwise, England’s going to become as devoid of life as Otherworld and we’re all fucked.”

Brian cradled his jaw and looked dumbfounded at Elsa.

“Kill fairy tales?”

“Clearly, listening was never a strong point. Where you hit a lot at school?”

“Shut up, Anthony.”

“I think maybe we should leave,” Elsa added, pulling on Brian’s arm, as Anthony followed, waving at one of the women in the window.

“Why do we have to kill them?” Brian asked, pulling his arm free from Elsa’s grip.

“Because it’s the only way you can stop something that isn’t real?”

“If it’s not real then how can you kill it?” questioned Brian

“If dreams can die, then so can stories, Brian. Stories get perverted all the time – Haven’t you ever heard of Chinese whispers?” Anthony quipped.

“Right. Your Point is made, so what…Where do we start?”

Anthony coughed, and pointed towards the end of the road.

“We go to the train station, and then we get ourselves a train to Wales.”

“Why? What’s in Wales?” Brian asked.

“..Roma mentioned something about some Billy Goats….”

As Roma’s energy exploded outwards, her astral form was left stranded out of synch with reality, she had but one choice in the matter. Using her own occult knowledge and what little vestiges of power she had left, she guided the elements of herself outwards and around her, giving them more specific directions than they would have chosen on their own.

With Otherworld destroyed and the Corps dissolved, Roma knew that the British Isles would still require defence. Five distinctive bursts of energy shot through the air, two heading north, two heading south west and the final one hurting south east – Towards London.

Roma hoped to tilt the balance more in Brian’s favour, but for now, all she could do was sit in the Astral plane and wait.