He was aware of their presence before he even woke.
His eyes opened groggily. As usual, he had reverted to his old childish habit of sleeping with his head under the covers. When he went to sleep the air in his room was cold, and so he had slept with every inch of his body tucked firmly under the thick wool blanket.
He had fallen asleep comfortably, and he probably would still be asleep, had their presence not woken him.
Now, however, he felt uncomfortably hot and droplets of sweat rolled down his temples. The trickling sensation of the sweat droplets made him feel very uncomfortable indeed, but he would not move a single muscle in fear that they would know that he was awake. He longed to kick the covers off and let the night breeze wash over him, but that was not an option in this situation.
He stayed unmoving. They were definitely there. He could even smell the earthy dampness, ripe berries, fungi, and the moist forest air. It was their smell.
A quiet voice cut through the darkness.
"He sleeps. Should I rouse the boy?"
Arthur stiffened under the safe sanctuary of his covers. The last time they came, they had pinched him black and blue. He still had bruises from that day, looking worse and far from fading away as days passed. A sharp prod in the ribs made him gasp.
"He is pretending to sleep. He wakes. " This voice was different from the earlier one; more cold and unfeeling.
Arthur's eyes widened. He was now wide awake. He tried to push the covers back, but they seemed heavy, and grew steadily heavier as they wrapped around his body, caving him in.
"W- What are you doing?" he gasped in horror. Glancing downwards, he realised that he was no longer on the bed; they had levitated him. He was now supporting the full weight of the think wool blanket. He was floating five feet above his bed.
"Put me down!"
He caught a glimpse of a small hand that did a little lazy movement, and then he was turning sideways and the blanket fell off him and landed in a heap on the floor. Without the shelter of the covers he felt horribly vulnerable.
"Where are you? Show yourselves!" he heard the desperation in his voice and hated it. A soft laugh filled the air. The laugh reminded him of poisoned honey.
A plump fairy dressed in a pink puffy dress seemed to bob in the air until it reached him. Only up close could Arthur see its feminine facial features. "You have been writing about us again." It said with its sickly sweet voice.
"No, I haven't, I really haven't…."
Another fairy flew to the pink one's side, this one dressed in black, a cape made out of what seemed like black bird feathers floating behind him. It snarled and bared its teeth, which were blindingly white compared to the rest of its black attire and surprisingly sharp.
"Do not lie to us, boy."
"But I really haven't…." he trailed off as he watched, in horror, a red notebook float through the window, the result of a lazy flick of the pink fairy's hand.
Floating in mid-air, the journal- his journal- flipped until it rested on one of the last few pages, one that had messy, hurried handwriting, barely readable yet unmistakably his.
His own voice echoed from the page, soft enough for his parents not to wake up but loud enough for him and the fairies to hear it.
"They came for me again tonight. Why me? Why is it always me? I can't stand them anymore, I hate them, I HATE them…."
The feelings of desperation and confusion were refreshed in his memory. He had hidden that journal so well by burying it in the backyard; how did they find it?
"We have our ways." The pink fairy said, as if reading his mind. Her eyes were oddly huge, he noticed, and they kept boring into his head, unblinking.
"This will do you no good." The other fairy said. "You were warned the last time not to write or speak of us." A stern look was in his eyes.
"But.. but it was a journal. I wrote about my emotions, not you exactly…."
The fairy dressed in black murmured an incantation and the journal burst into flames. Arthur winced, as if the journal was a part of him, now lost forever.
Oof. Arthur was suddenly hit by an invisible force that dug into his ribs. He hugged his ribs. No doubt that it would leave a nasty bruise.
"The next time this happens, you won't be so lucky, boy." The fairy in black snarled one more time. It raised both its hands and brought both of them down with force and energy, pointing at Arthur. A strange feeling of coldness tingled through his body, starting from his head, then progressing to his toes.
The fairies left through the window.
He fell onto his bed, curling into a ball, still massaging his tender ribs.