Can you stop yourself from "growing up"?

"Rose-Tinted Glasses" by A.M. Entracte

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Rose-Tinted Glasses by A.M. Entracte

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From the corner of her eye, Becca watched a small pack of drunk pixies adding salt into her grandmother’s bone china sugar pot. The sugar pot was the oldest thing in the house, even older than grandmother herself. There would be hell to pay if it broke, so she didn’t want to risk any sudden moves to swat them away. Twelve and so close to the Shift, she had plenty of practice acting normal when the world was anything but. She’d deal with the pixies later when her parents weren’t around. Otherwise, they would probably think she was the one behind the prank when they found salt in their morning tea. Not worth it.

She wasn’t sure whether ‘pack’ was a correct term for a group of pixies. It’s not like they covered it in school, but there was just something so animalistic about them. They were like large gray squirrels, albeit completely devoid of any hair or softness, resembling dried out, gnarly twigs from an old tree. They scratched the delicate china pot with their short but sharp talons, making an awful screeching sound that vibrated in her brain. A part of her was grateful for this nuisance though. Being able to see the pixies meant that she was still a child and that it wasn’t her turn to grow up just yet.

Her younger brother Tom giggled, spurting cereal milk through his nose and interrupting her train of thought. Only five, he was still at an age when children tried to comprehend the wondrous and terrifying world of magic around them that the grown-ups couldn’t see. Some days he would pester their parents about the fantastic creatures or physics-defying incidents. This usually ended with tears and frustration, when mum and dad only praised his imagination and creativity but never understood that his stories weren’t made up at all.

Becca didn’t blame Tom for trying, even though he was doomed to fail. She still remembered when a few years ago a small golden dragon chased their cat Ginger around the flower beds in the front yard. Dragons were mysterious creatures, with power rooted in times so ancient that even other magic beings forgot all about it. They stayed away from human settlements, and it was unusual to see them up close.

The one in her garden was young and covered in gleaming scales, fitting together so seamlessly that it looked like a pattern on its skin. Wisps of sunlight surrounded the dragon, coming together into an aura-like shape. It would have been a magical moment if it wasn’t for the dragon’s sharp teeth and Ginger’s meows of pure terror. Someone clearly forgot to tell the creature that it was supposed to act majestically and seek solitude in a mountain cave.

She didn’t know who was more terrified, her or the cat, but her parents were unfazed. Mum even took a video of Ginger for social media— “looks like our cat has finally lost his marbles,” she posted, “too much catnip!” For the first time, Becca truly realized that grown-ups couldn’t see magic. Magic that nevertheless was very real, very powerful and very frightening.

But today was the day she could change that. She could change the world forever and make it possible for grown-ups to see the unseen. Maybe together with other children, they would also figure out how to keep their pre-Shift memories. She smiled, then scolded herself for daydreaming, grabbed her toast and a blue backpack and headed out.

Adam was already waiting in front of her house. He was a good foot taller than her, even though they were the same age. Her next-door neighbor and closest friend, Adam was also one of the best agents of their local Fairytale Fellowship—a network of children who helped to maintain a fragile peace between the world of magic and the mundane grown-up reality. Most magical beings kept to themselves, living their own lives in parallel to clueless adults living theirs. Some however bore ill intent and wickedness that threatened this delicate co-existence—and that was where the Fellowships stepped in.

Adam was visibly tense, his lips pressed together in a tight line—the same expression he wore in math classes. They had known each other for so long she could read his face as well as her own feelings. He was probably nervous because this could be one of their last missions before the Shift began to influence them too, making them grow up and stop seeing the magic around them. And what a mission it was! It offered hope for a new world where people of all ages stood united. For Becca personally, it was all about her desperate hope. Over the last few months, she kept frantically checking her memory every morning after waking up, terrified of slowly losing parts of herself as she grew older. She stubbornly played with her dolls in the evenings, refusing to admit that the toys didn’t bring her the same joy they used to.

“Do you think I could see them? I know we’re not supposed to but this could really change everything and I just…” he trailed off.

She nodded solemnly.

Becca took out an emerald green glasses case from her backpack. She stepped behind the shrubs in front of her house to hide from the prying eyes and showed him the glasses inside—bright pink, with tiny stars dotted throughout the frame. Ironic, how the most potent artefact of their times presented itself as a pair of rose-tinted glasses—it really showed the power that imagination, stories and art of any kind had on their world. It also showed how dangerous it was for adults to be blind to it all—what if they came up with more tales of monsters and disasters that gained popularity throughout the world? The Fellowships already had their hands full reining in rogue magicians, hiding rings of power and sealing djinn lamps. Let’s not even mention all the mess they had to deal with following the last teenage fashion for vampire novels.

“Huh. They look like a toy. Hopefully, our resident eggheads can multiply the enchantment into something more elegant, or it will be a mission to get our parents to wear something like that. What did the note say?”

“Just that they let grown-ups see magic. I wonder who left it, but we have no leads at all. The best we can do at this point is to drop off the glasses at the base. Ready?”

They set off in a brisk walk, heading towards Jim’s house, which was teasingly referred to as Bag End, making fun of Jim’s below-average height. Jim himself was often referred to as the Hobbit outside of his hearing, unless someone wanted to be assigned to the worst tasks, like negotiating with goblins or checking supermarket shelves for magic beans. For such a small person, Jim was a power to be reckoned with, which is why he was chosen as the leader of their local Fellowship chapter.

The sun was out in full force and so were inhabitants of both worlds. As they walked through the park, they saw a group of children feeding bread to unicorns to the shock and dismay of local ducks. One of the swans even walked out of the lake in protest, turning into a beautiful princess to take matters into her own hands. Nearby, an old elvish couple played chess, sitting right next to none the wiser Mr. and Mrs. Wilson who lived next door.

Also on their path, under a beautiful canopy covered in intertwined roses, was a faun. A pretty standard faun—half goat and half man, little round ears and horns poking out of his mane. It was, however, surprising that the faun was standing still and reading a newspaper with an amused half-smile. Everyone knew that fauns loved fun, music and dance so much that they could barely focus enough to do anything else. Becca didn’t expect a faun to know how to read at all.

Before she even finished her thought, the faun dropped the worn-out paperback, ran up to her, grabbed her hands and swung her into a dance. Music surrounded her instantly, even though she could see no instruments. It was so joyful and sweet, with soothing piano sounds in the background, accented by sharp violin notes and a chirpy flute melody that made her heart sing. She giggled at the metallic jingle of a tambourine. Becca could have danced like this all day, a week, a year even. She didn’t know the steps. In fact, she had two left feet and would normally avoid dancing. But here she was, placing one foot here, the other one there, twisting, twirling, swinging, shuffling, laughing, leaning…

…until suddenly she crashed into the ground, landing straight on her backside with none of the grace and poise that filled her only seconds ago. Adam was standing next to her, holding her shoulder in a grip so tight it might as well have been a tourniquet.

“Give it back!” he shouted.

Becca tried to shake off the confusion and the sticky tendrils of magic that had been wrapped around her and left a copper taste in her mouth. Then she realized her bag was missing.

“Give back what?” the faun said, laughing. “You took back the girl, what else do you want?”

“Her backpack. Give it back right now and there will be no consequences. We will walk away from here.”

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? To walk away? Very well, have it back then, but I’ll keep this as a token for the dance.” The faun laughed as he pulled out the pair of magic glasses from Becca’s backpack, turning to walk away.

Becca’s heart sank. They had little chance of success to wrestle anything out of faun’s hands—he was a fully materialized mythical creature, shaped by centuries of tales and human beliefs. The older the being, the stronger the magic was one of the first rules of the world that children were taught at their local Fellowships. If they wanted the glasses, they had to outsmart him.