Outside the fence

Spring was here and I was flying around the neighborhood admiring the leaf buds before they became whole leaves in another week. I was enjoying my time weaving between the tree branches when I saw a black dog sitting nervously on the corner outside a chain-link fence. His tail wagged constantly and his head turned side-to-side when he sat. But he didn’t sit for long. After a few seconds of looking around he jumped back up and began pacing along the fence that had been pushed outward at the bottom. I could tell by his expression that he had pushed the fence out. He had pushed and pushed and pushed until it finally gave way and he slid under it to freedom. What an effort it must have taken. I wondered what he had found in the time that he was uncaged. Had he ventured far or was there enough close to here to fill his curiosity? Did he chase a cat or rodent or was he chased by a fox or a coyote? Most importantly, did he find what he was looking for and was he happy. Because, you see, what he didn’t know when the fence finally bent to his will and he slid under it, was that the door he had created only swung one way. He couldn’t go back, not by himself. He would have to be allowed back in. His actions would have to be accepted and he would have to be forgiven for what he had done. The forgivers might place conditions on their forgiveness saying “we will let it go this time” or “we will give you one more chance.” They might tie him up with a rope or a chain because they know that if a dog gets out once, he will do it again. After all, you can never unlearn what you’ve learned. I still wonder what happened to that dog. He looked sweet and dumb and I’m sure his family was patient with him. Of course that may not have been his first time outside the fence.

signed Flaylen

Boycott "If I Die Young" by The Band Perry

I heard a disturbing song today. It was “If I Die Young” by The Band Perry. The musical composition initially got my attention but as I listened to the lyrics, I became concerned for our youth and anyone else who might be considering suicide. With lyrics like “The sharp knife of a short life, Well, I've had just enough time” there can be no doubt as to the subject matter.

The subject of suicide isn’t new to music or even a bad topic if the song attempts to stop the listener from harming themselves. Songs like “Everybody Hurts” from REM or “Why” by Rascal Flats approach the topic with messages that discourage suicide. “Everybody Hurts” actually repeats the words “Hold On” throughout the song. The music and tone of “If I Die Young” make suicide sound peaceful while the lyrics seem to confirm every bad reason that people use to justify taking their own lives.

“A penny for my thoughts, oh no, I'll sell 'em for a dollar
They're worth so much more after I'm a goner”

and

“Funny, when you're dead how people start listening”

I looked the lyrics up online and could not find one verse that attempted to deter someone from taking their own life. In a time when so much good is happening to stop suicide (i.e. the “It Gets Better” campaign), this song takes us a step backward. I have a pretty diverse appreciation for music but this is one song that should not be played on the radio.

Paul Vincent Rodriguez, author, "Tales of Fairies" books series. (Aynil the Traveler, Rebecca the Chased, Darvin the Nerd) www.talesoffairies.com

Nothing good comes from doing things behind someone’s back.

Again, I was on the bus. I like the bus. It was the first day for whatever-his-name-was and he was on his way back to the station. The bus wasn’t broken and no one was hurt. We were going back because he left one minute early. I guess the rule in bus driving is that you can leave as late as you want but NEVER leave early. So driver what’s-his-name had to go back and pick up whoever happened to be left behind. The bus wasn’t very full and the few people we did absorb all found seats – the last being an older, heavy-set woman in a blue jacket who chose the seat beside a teenage girl with things stuck in her ears so she couldn’t hear anyone. The bus pulled away from the station under the incapable hands of John Q. Busdriver who was having a very bad day. His day, however must have been nothing compared to that of the teenage girl sitting behind the woman in the blue jacket. The poor girl’s face began to shift and contort in a manner I associated with bad odor and contempt. I could not see nor smell a reason for either of these expressions. The blue coated woman was doing nothing but sitting in a seat. She even appeared to be attempting to not infringe on the girl’s space by facing into the aisle and sitting closer to the edge of the seat. Still the girl made the face. I wondered who she was doing this for. The woman she held in contempt couldn’t see it so the girl obviously did not intend to inform the woman in the blue jacket that she smelled bad or had whatever problem it was that made the girl hate her. The girl did not look around to see the reactions of the others in the bus so I assume she did not need confirmation of her feelings. From my perch, I didn’t see another human that would confirm her disgust – at least they didn’t show it the same way. Then I wondered what good any of that did. Unless the girl thought she looked good that way, I don’t think making those faces did any good at all.

Ryder

It’s alive. I saw it with my own eyes.

It was last Thursday and I was perched in my usual spot - on the hand rail above the humans in the back of the bus where nobody stands. Nobody ever stood anywhere in this bus as far as I knew. It was an express bus and it would drive the freeway from downtown to the park-and-ride near our colony so it wasn't usually that crowded. The bus had thirty-four seats and, today, each had a human in it. The bus began to pull away from the station but stopped short. The door flew open and an elderly woman stepped gingerly onto the single step and into the cabin. Her eyes scanned the large vehicle for a place to sit. Her first pass revealed nothing but before she could make a second, a younger man stood up beside her and bade her sit in his spot. She gracefully thanked the man and accepted the seat as the bus jerked forward. The bus would stop twice more before entering the freeway for the ten mile trip to the parking lot. At each stop, at least one male offered his seat to a female until there were six males standing and swaying with the bus. Each male had shown the honor and chivalry that I thought was lost among these creatures. Each female gracefully accepted the offer as is the polite thing to do so the male may be seen by the others as the strong and benevolent man he hopes to be. These sacrifices were made by men who would receive nothing more than the thank you offered by the women who received the gift of a place to rest. When the bus stopped they would be the first off so others who admired their sacrifice would not be able to express it to them personally. I, being a fairy, could not show my respect and without breaking the "no human contact" rule for non-approved fairies. So, instead, I will write here and hope they get the message.

Chivalry is alive.