Glen was sweaty, stinky, scratched and bit, and no longer bothered to remove leeches. His tiny Amazonian guide assured him they were near their destination. Glen saw a clearing ahead through the entangled vegetation, but the guide refused to go further and stated he would return to the split tree in one week. Glen continued alone and quietly entered a Wonderland.

He had earned three doctorates while tracing his lifelong obsession and now wept with affirmation and joy over his success. The clearing was abuzz with two-inch-tall winged creatures that sparkled in the sunlight or shone gently luminescent in the shade.

They stayed mostly in the canopy level high above, but on seeing him, they descended and sat in the center of the glade and rested on the ground. Glen tried to approach ever so gently, but the timorous creatures flittered off at every movement and sound.

On the fifth night, he camped in the clearing, staying as quiet and still as possible. As the sun warmed, he picked a flower and held it in his open palm. One of the tiny creatures landed on his hand and ate a bit of pollen off the stamens. The eyes were wide-set and the nose very flat, but it was clearly hominid.

Glen was holding the reality behind fairy myths and perhaps those of all little peoples in his hand. He slowly moved his finger to stroke the adorable head. The fairy looked him squarely in the eye and, without warning, bit his finger. It drew blood and flew away to join the others, but Glen could never bring himself to retaliate in any way.

That evening, after nausea and fever, Glen’s body began to change. He fell into a deep coma, which was a good thing. His skin hardened into a chitinous covering while his internal cells, including bones, muscles, and organs, liquefied to initiate his metamorphosis.

On a fine spring day, the desiccated head began to rock, and the mouth split into a morbid similitude of a smile. Glen, or at least as much of him as fit into the pea-sized brain, crawled out and lay across the bridge of his former nose, exhausted.

His knurled wing buds slowly expanded and firmed in the warm sun as blood pumped to the tips. Four of his new adopted family un-expectantly swooped in, grabbed a limb each, and soared above the treetops. Before he could orient, they let go amidst piping laughter.

The new version of Glen floundered in panic. Arms, legs, and wings thrashed independently as he let out a peep of a scream. He actually fainted for a second but awoke as his body instinctually hovered, face to the wind.

His strong new dorsoventral muscles firmly beat his wings, and with just a little experimentation, tiny Glen soared, dove, and danced with all the others. He could not precisely remember his former life, but he knew that he had arrived home on a primal level.

The native guide did not bother returning to the split tree. The area would remain taboo until the next foolish outsider insisted on throwing his life away chasing ridiculous dreams. Still, it was better to guide them individually rather than put up with whole herds of searchers as they trampled around the sacred grounds. Just so long as they paid in advance.  

~end~