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I remembered this today. The original 300 word story that became Waters and the Wild

Song of the faerie.

There's a boat on the beach and it’s not of this world. 

“Do you see anything?” I ask.

Gary’s the most grounded person I know; he holds me where I’m safe. “Yeah,” he says. “Beautiful.”

I hadn’t expected that. “Why here?”

He shrugs. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Yes. A faerie boat from the underworld. My breathing tightens. Prickles cover my skin, great welts that itch and fade a moment later. “Why now?” 

He puts his hand on my arm. “Amy, what do you see?” 

I point at the ark and it sings a faerie song to me. Gary holds me so tight that it hurts. “Amy, what is it?”

I shake him off. Amy, amy, amy; a dangerous lullaby. I reach out and touch the ship, run my fingers over its rusted edges, take comfort in its solid form. 

“Amy!” He takes me in his arms and smells of coffee and orange. He kisses me, even though he knows I’m bad. “What do you see?” 

His voice, heavy with fear, rips through me and brings me back. I watch three kite-surfers tack the tideline, moving in tandem with the wind. That’s what Gary saw. Their sails were the faerie’s song, their shadows on the beach my boat. 

“Nothing. It was nothing.” I don’t meet Gary’s eyes, frightened I’ll be taken back to hospital and the mumbled voices of concern. 

That won’t happen; I’m better. It was one of my little moments, that’s all.

“Let’s go.” He leads the way and I close my ears to the faeries' song, urging me do their bidding. I stumble, knowing I will be back, when it's moonlight and I'm alone. Because they're real and they want me and so they'll have me.