Entry 10: 

 It was around eight when everyone left the gym. I went outside to start the usual process of lowering the gate over the side window a few feet from the front door. I stepped into the cold air of that November night feeling refreshed. The sweat from my brow suddenly chilled into a cooling mask that felt nice after a long workout. 

The Bronx is different from other boroughs. It's definitely the dirtiest. In fact, I think it's official according to the CDC. But despite the trash, forgotten dog crap, and the occasional burning vehicle, the Bronx air is fresh. You can smell the trees, see the stars, taste the air. It's different. Queens, Brooklyn, Manhattan, it's processed, Feca, here, it's real. Probably the main reason we used to travel up here so often when I was growing up. Big cities meant less monsters, but now we had people to deal with, and we stuck out. Maintaining a traveling commune of a thousand people is easier outside of the chaos of a dense metropolis. I was used to the Bronx, having been around it a long time, even before my stay. It felt normal.

Night had taken the empty street with a solid grip. During real city hours in that neighborhood, the only things outside were me or the 4 train clacking against the wooden tracks above. My front door was closer to the middle of the block, so the only light I had was a single street lamp lazily lighting the corner. It looked shady and hard to see, but I was ready. While applying to lock out the bottom of the window, a small blue glow guided my hands right on schedule. Well…a few of ‘em. 

From a distance, you’d think they were fireflies. The closer you got, however, the more you’d see how wrong you were. They had small sacks on their backs, which inflated and deflated with air to keep them afloat. Their tiny bodies consisted of lil arms with three-fingered hands and silky strands of hair for legs. These hairs they used to push themselves through the air. Freaky to look at, but a true Bronx original. Pixies. 

It’s true, we’re the only place that has ‘em in New York. Now, before you ask, “Well, where did the Pixies come from?'' that's a good question. No one knows. There's no mass portal somewhere, and the Land of Fairies in itself is all theory with lil substance. Mostly, just elves arguing and humans staying away from the discussion. But when you live three times longer than everyone else, you can ponder other dimensions. Pixies just show up here when the sun goes down around the Bronx, and by morning they’re gone. A strange touch to an already odd place, but it's a sign you've entered the Bronx. As I finished locking up, I felt one cling to my fro. 

"Ah, get out of there," I said, shaking my hair. I jostled the thing out, causing it to float down to my eye level. The irony was that it had no eyes, just a smooth surface where they should be. 

“Thanks for the light, man. I'd feed ya, but I don't know if you guys eat." I said, looking for a mouth I couldn’t see. A small buzzing noise came from the tiny body before it floated off into the sky, joining a small group that had formed overhead. Dozens of blue orbs flicker and move through the air. It's a shame most folks didn't see this. If they did, they might appreciate the city more. Then again, they'd also know they were still part of the food chain. Tough pills and all that. 

I had grown up moving up and down the East Coast in mobile homes, my family hustling to get by. The commune I was raised in, the “Soft Steps,” made its living through a traveling carnival show and festival. Everyone performed, we made food, and we even had a Ferris wheel that we'd break down and put up everywhere we went. It was a pain in the ass to lug around, but we had one. For performers, we had strongmen, acrobats, knife throwers, breakdancers, and, at night, boxers. We were really into boxing. That's why we went to the Bronx so often. It's big here, plus dad grew up three minutes away from where the gym was, so we’d stay at my abuelita’s and eat NOT carnival food for a week. That all ended when she passed through. 

The only things left here are memories and me. That's when my phone started buzzing.