Friday's Gift

"Every time I really need to download something, the net crashes," Rod informed his cat Friday. Friday wasn't listening. She was curled up on a pile of dirty towels which had been tossed into a corner. Her white feet blended with the white of the towels; her grey body was in stark contrast. Friday purred and slept.

Rodregis Jones was a freelancer, a software jock, an independent contractor. He had left the rat race of working for the big co-ops about five years ago. He had become fed up with bureaucracy and office politics. Once free of the nine to five regime, Rod pursued his first love of programming educational virtual environments. He worked for himself now. He was his own boss. Clients actually sought him out for his services. He was one of the best and had earned a reputation for excellence.

A low grumble echoed from Rod's empty stomach. He got up, walked out of the office and into the kitchen. The kitchen was just as disorganized as the office. Several days worth of dishes were piled in the sink. Water dripped from a leaky faucet as it had for the last few years. He really needed to fix that sometime. Right now, however, other things were more pressing.

Rodregis opened a cupboard and searched for something good to eat. He found a single can of tuna fish. He decided it would have to do. As he opened the can, Friday appeared at his feet meowing.

"You must be psychic, Friday," Rod said as he emptied the excess juice into a plate and placed it on the floor. Friday eagerly licked at the tasty treat.

Rod finished making a sandwich with some bread he found in the refrigerator, luckily it hadn't turned moldy. He returned to the office. His office was actually the second bedroom of a small, three-bedroom house he had bought once he decided to move out of the city. He often wondered how he could have stood living in LA all those years. The air pollution alone was enough to drive any sane person away. So he had packed up the essentials, sold his condo near Van Neyes, and moved to Oregon. He had always liked vacationing in the northwest. He loved the mountains and the deep dark forests.

Friday clawed at the back door. Rodregis hurried back to the kitchen and let his favorite companion out into the backyard. She slinked off into the brush and disappeared. Friday loved her new home almost as much as Rodregis. She had been an indoor cat most of her life, but now she had acres of woods to explore. Though the morning's fog had cleared, he could not see very far into the woods. The lush growth all but obscured his vision.

He thought for a moment about other things he had left behind in LA. His live-in girlfriend at the time just couldn't understand his need to move out of the city. She refused to join him and could not give up her career as a big-city journalist. In some ways he couldn't blame her. He often missed the cultural aspects of city life, but he was never really happy living there. At least now he was happy.

Rodregis returned to his office. He was intent on getting that information he need off the net before the next crash. Ever since the Internet folded last year, things had become quite shaky. The corporate run network had promised to be better, faster, more secure than the old government run attempt. Rod was skeptical. He had always liked the idea of a publicly owned system. He appreciated the democracy involved. Rodregis set up his downloads and then sat back to wait for the information to flow into his home.

A couple of hours later, Rodregis awoke to hear Friday scratching at the back door. He was surprised that he had fallen asleep. He had gotten plenty of sleep the night before. He went to the back door to let his cat in.

As Rodregis got closer to the door, he could see that Friday had something in her mouth. He could not tell what it was. He opened the inner door and realized that Friday must have caught her first bird. She was bringing it to him as her gift. Cats often leave dead prey on their owners doorstep in offering. Rod was happy for his friend, but did not want to let her inside with the bird.

"Drop the bird, Friday, or I can't let you in."

Friday stared up at her owner. She apparently didn't want to comply.

"Please put the bird down," Rodregis insisted. He waved at her to get her to back away from the door.

Friday released the bird, wandered off the doormat, and sat a few feet away. Rodregis slipped out onto the deck for a closer look at the offering. Upon closer inspection, the dead thing indeed had wings but it was obviously unlike any bird Rod had ever seen. The wings were delicate and thin, much like those on a butterfly. The patterns on the wings seemed to shift their colors. There were no feathers on either the wings or on the thing's body. Rodregis was baffled. What could it be, he thought.

He cautiously poked it with a finger. It had a soft, fleshy feel to it. It was covered in almost invisible hairs. He poked it some more and could now make out what appeared to be two legs, two arms, a body, two delicate wings, and a miniature, almost human looking head. Overall, it appeared to be about four inches in length. Rodregis decided he needed to get it inside for a closer inspection. He ran into his kitchen and grabbed the cleanest plate he could find. Once back on the deck, he carefully picked up the poor dead creature and placed it on the plate.

Rodregis returned to his kitchen and cleared a space on the table. He laid the plate in the newly empty space and hurried to his office to look for a magnifying glass. Having found what he was looking for, he returned once again to the kitchen, his downloads suddenly forgotten. He sat and stared at the dead creature. What could it be, he thought again. Through the magnifying glass he could clearly make out the thing's delicate features. It looked for all the world like a perfect representation of that mythical creature, a fairy. Rodregis remembered them from the stories his mother used to tell him as a child. He always thought they were such wonderful creatures, singing and dancing in the woods.

He suddenly thought, my God, what if there are more of them out there. Will they miss their companion? Are they capable of revenge? How would he ever find them?

The woods behind his house went on for miles, even though he only owned a few acres. There were about two hundred acres of conservation land that abutted his property. The real estate agent had mentioned something about wetland preservation when she showed him the house five years ago. His nearest neighbor was about a half mile up the road. He lived at the end of the cul-de-sac. He desired privacy and had found it.

Friday was scratching at the back door again. Rodregis got up and immediately saw something in Friday's mouth.

"Not again!" he exclaimed. "Please God, don't let it be another fairy."

Rod opened the door and saw to his horror it was indeed another dead fairy. He coaxed Friday to put it down on the mat. Friday dropped it, jumped off the deck and disappeared into the woods before Rodregis could grab her to throw her inside. He picked up the dead fairy and brought it inside. He laid it beside the other one on the plate. They looked almost exactly the same. The only difference Rod could discern was the distinctive coloring of the fine body hair.

A noise at the kitchen window drew Rodregis' attention. As he looked up at the window, he thought he caught a glimpse of a fairy standing on the sill. It was there and then gone.

"Jeese, Rod, ... now you're imagining things," he said to himself.

He was really worried now. He hoped that Friday wouldn't catch any more. He sat there wondering about who he could contact about this. Surely the local police department would laugh him off as lunatic, conjuring up stories of little green men and UFOs. He had few friends in the area, having left everyone he knew back in LA. His neighbor was hardly ever home, since he worked up in Seattle and only spent weekends at his house down the road. He certainly did not want to mention this to any of his clients or he would surely lose them all.

Once again there was a slight scratching at the kitchen window. Rodregis tried to look at the window, out of the corner of his eye, without moving his head. He thought he could see a couple of fairies standing on the window sill, but he wasn't sure. They seemed to be gesturing in his direction. As soon as he tried to turn his head for a better look, they were gone.

Friday appeared on the deck. Thankfully, she didn't have a another dead fairy in her mouth. She jumped up and clawed the door, asking to be let in. Rodregis went over to the door and opened it. Friday trotted inside. Looking down, Rod was shocked to see two more dead fairies lying on the doormat. He bent down and picked them up. This is getting out of control, he thought. He closed the door and locked it behind him.

Rodregis placed the new pair next to the other two on the plate.

"This is just horrible. How can you keep on catching these poor things," he asked Friday. She just stared at him. She couldn't help her instincts, being a natural born hunter. Rodregis wondered if she had ever caught one before, but just never brought it home. He knew now that he was going to have to keep his feline companion indoors. She wouldn't like it, but it was the only way to ensure she wouldn't kill any more fairies.

Rodregis was startled by a crash over the kitchen sink. Glass from one of the window panes fell inwards. Several fairies flew in through the window and several more climbed up and over the window sill. Soon a crowd of fairies gathered on the kitchen countertop. What do they want, he thought. Maybe they just wanted the bodies of their fallen comrades.

Rodregis stood up and backed away from the table. A few fairies flew from the counter to the table and landed near the plate. He could hear them speaking to each other but he could not understand their language. They spoke and gestured at him, and spoke some more.

Suddenly, one of them emitted a shrill whistle, and dozens of more fairies began flying into Rodregis' kitchen. Seemly wave after wave of fairies entered his home. They were all armed with spears. The chatter of their voices was becoming deafening. Friday had long since vanished. No doubt she had retreated to one of her favorite hiding places in the basement.

Again a shrill whistle sounded and the fairies attacked. At first, Rodregis did not have time to react. They were on him before he knew what had happened. Dozens of fairies flew at him from all sides. He soon had fairies clinging to him all over his body. Though he far outweighed them, their massive numbers was overwhelming. He swatted at them, brushing them off his body. Several fairies smacked against a wall with a sickening sound and fell dead. He felt sorry for hurting them, but what could he do.

He felt stinging all over his body. If he could only make them understand that it was not his fault. That he did not mean them any harm. Perhaps, they thought that he had sent his cat out to hunt for him and bring back dinner. He shouldn't have used a plate, anything but a plate.

"Please stop!" he begged. "It was my cat. She doesn't know any better. She can't help her hunting instincts."

"YOU LIE," said a voice in his head. "HUMANS CAN NEVER BE TRUSTED."

"Please believe me," he pleaded.

The fairies did not lessen their attack. They continued jabbing and poking. Rodregis was bleeding from countless wounds. If they didn't stop soon, he would surely bleed to death. Somehow he had to make them understand.

"It was all an accident," Rodregis explained in between swatting at the attacking fairies. "I didn't know about you. If I had, I would have kept my cat indoors. Please, please stop. Please let me explain."

A different voice in his head replied, "KILLING CAN ONLY BE PUNISHED BY DEATH. YOU MUST PAY FOR YOUR CRIME."

Rodregis felt nauseous. The loss of blood had become extreme. He had grown weak and could no longer fend off their attack. He sank to the floor and fell into the welcoming arms of unconsciousness.

"It's the damndest thing I ever saw," Police Chief Beggerton said. "If I didn't know any better, I'd swear it had to be a porcupine that got him. But these are the strangest looking quills I've ever seen." He twirled one in between two fingers.

The paramedics had lifted Rodregis Jones into a stretcher and were wheeling him out the door. He was babbling and mumbling to himself something about fairies.

"The poor man's delirious," Mr. Evans said.

"Well, it's a good thing you called him, Mr. Evans, about your project, or he probably would have died in his kitchen."

"Not to mention that I only live about ten miles from here."

"Did he say anything coherent when you first got here?" Beggerton asked.

"No. He kept saying something about how the fairies just didn't understand. And something else about his cat."

"Well, my deputy has searched this entire house, and didn't find no cat. It must be long gone." Beggerton paused and then added, "Let's get out here. I'm gonna close things up until I hear something from the doctors."

Mr. Evans and Beggerton both left the house. On the way to the chief's car, Mr. Evans thought he saw something flittering out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned to look, it was gone.

They drove away and after they were out of sight, a group of fairies could be seen dragging the body of a dead cat into the woods behind the house of Rodregis Jones.