Activities · Fiction · Self

Fiction: Tinkerbell’s Revenge, Part 2

Lisa felt a subtle shiver ran across her entire body. The hairs on the back of her neck all stood up, startled.

Perhaps, because of the shock she felt, she blacked out for a few seconds. She couldn’t recall what exactly happened next. Her next memory was seeing Mulberry dropping off the flashlight at her paws and licking the entire body of the sleeping (or was she dead?!) little girl.

She didn’t know what to do. She wanted to stop Mulberry from licking her because she might wake her up but at the same time she couldn’t hold back her anticipation of seeing the little girl actually awake – apparently alive.

Seconds went by so fast. It didn’t take long before she saw the little girl moved; first her arms, then her legs. Finally her head moved. Her eyes opened and she turned to face Mulberry – then Lisa.

Their gazes locked. They’re both wide-eyed.

The little girl was the first to break the ice. She whispered:

Am I alive?

Lisa initially felt like running away. She was both horrified and amazed. Her brain couldn’t process her conflicting emotions.

Mulberry answered for her, barking twice at the little girl, as if to say, yes.

The little girl’s face changed from vulnerable to defensive. She immediately sat, then stood up, dusting off the edges of her short yellow green dress.

She asked her follow-up questions:

Who are you? Where is Wendy?

Lisa wanted to answer but she only ended up blurting some incomprehensible sounds.

The little girl stepped out the chest and onto the ground. With her arms crossed in front of her tiny chest, she asked another question:

Where is Wendy hiding?

Lisa’s mouth was still gaped open. A million thoughts were running inside her head. For sure, that little girl in front of her was Tinkerbell, the fairy who everybody thought were dead. How couldn’t she have died? She suddenly disappeared and never appeared again for decades!

And Wendy? What about Wendy? Peter Pan’s Wendy? She no longer existed. She had died a decade ago because of old age. Why would it matter now whether she’s alive or dead?

Finally, because of this last thought, Lisa managed to give a short reply:


The little girl couldn’t hide her disappointed. It was painted all over her face. She’s pissed off big time.

She didn’t ask further questions. She was totally silent for a few seconds. She wasn’t even moving. Her face was turned to her side, away from Lisa.

After a while, she looked Lisa in the eyes and just made a passing comment:

The bitch is dead. What a bore.


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