Meet Robin Goodfellow as you’ve never seen him before.
Released July 22, 2014
Introduction by Sara Cleto and Brittany Warman
Rosie Red Jacket by Christine Morgan
The Queen of Lakes by L.S. Johnson
Ten Ways to Self-Sabotage, Only Some of Which Relate to Fairies by Sara Puls
Antlers by Amanda Block
Only Make-Believe by Lauren Liebowitz
F.C.U. by Jon Arthur Kitson
Water Sense by Adria Laycraft
The Cartography of Shattered Trees by Beth Cato
Possession by Rhonda Eikamp
And Only The Eyes of Children by Laura VanArendonk Baugh
Seven Years Fleeting by Lor Graham
The Last King by Liz Colter
Faerie Knight by Sidney Blaylock, Jr.
Solomon’s Friend by Kristina Wojtaszek
A Fairfolk Promise by Alexis A. Hunter
The Fairy Midwife by Shannon Phillips
The Price by Kari Castor
Meet Robin Goodfellow as you’ve never seen him before, watch damsels in distress rescue themselves, get swept away with the selkies and enjoy tales of hobs, green men, pixies and phookas. One thing is for certain, these are not your grandmother’s fairy tales.
Fairies have been both mischievous and malignant creatures throughout history. They’ve dwelt in forests, collected teeth or crafted shoes. Fae is full of stories that honor that rich history while exploring new and interesting takes on the fair folk from castles to computer technologies to modern midwifing, the Old World to Indianapolis.
Fae bridges traditional and modern styles, from the familiar feeling of a good old-fashioned fairy tale to urban fantasy and horror with a fae twist. This anthology covers a vast swath of the fairy story spectrum, making the old new and exploring lush settings with beautiful prose and complex characters.
Praise for Fae:
“A delightfully refreshing collection that offers a totally different take on your usual fairy stories! I should have known that editor Parrish (who also edits the cutting edge horror zine, Niteblade) would want to offer something quite unique. I found it difficult to stop reading as one story ended and another began – all fantastic work by gifted writers. Not for the faint of heart, by any means.”
— Marge Simon, multiple Bram Stoker® winner
“Seventeen tales… range in feel from horror to upbeat tales about homes where things go right, and are set everywhere from the modern day to mythical fantasy pasts. The best of these stories evoke things from real life – loves and values – and show characters making hard choices that reveal who they are and what they’re made of. Anyone with an abiding love of Faerie and the Folk who dwell there will find stories to enjoy in FAE.”
— Tangent [C. D. Lewis]
“The Cartography of Shattered Trees’ by Beth Cato and ‘And Only The Eyes of Children’ by Laura VanArendonk Baugh are shining examples of what could be done with the subject of faeries that surpass tricks on the reader, that build worlds and characters worth knowing and exploring, that have something important to say about the real world.”
— Tangent [John Sulyok]
“Nibble on this deliciously wondrous collection of stories of fae one at a time or binge on its delights on one night, you’ll love the faerie feast this collection provides. Love, loss, horror, healing, humor, tragedy–it’s all here, where stories of magical beings and the humans they encounter will enthrall and enlighten the reader about both the mundane and the otherworldly. I devoured it.”
— Kate Wolford, editor of Beyond the Glass Slipper, editor and publisher of Enchanted Conversation: A Fairy Tale Magazine.
“The Fae prove treacherous allies and noble foes in this wide-ranging anthology from Rhonda Parrish that stretches boundaries of folk tale and legend. These fairy stories are fully enmeshed in the struggles of today, with dangerous beings from under the hills taking stances against the exploitation of children and the oppression of women, yet offering bargains in exchange for their aid that those in desperate need had best think twice about accepting. There’s no Disney-esque flutter and glitter to be found here — but there are chills and thrills aplenty.”
— Mike Allen, author of Unseaming and editor of Clockwork Phoenix
Find it online:
Direct from the publisher:
Anthology: Approx. 75,000 words / 245 pages
From “Rosie Red Jacket” by Christine Morgan:
“Boys are the horridest,” someone said. “Aren’t they just?”
Georgina, on the stone bench by the garden hedge, started so that she almost dropped her book. She caught it against her lap and looked around.
Here was the yard, grassy lawns and flower-beds and tree-shaded paths sloping up toward Drewbury Hall, where her uncle’s family lived. Where she, too, now lived, because she had noplace else to go. The brick walls climbed green with ivy, the roof-slates were grey, and curtains stirred in open windows as the maids aired out the rooms.
The only person she saw was Partridge, the driver, out by the carriage-house. He crouched in front of the big brass-grilled snout of Uncle’s gleaming auto-motor, polishing the luminaries with a soft rag. It couldn’t have been him that she heard, because he was too far away, whistling as he worked.
And the voice had sounded much more like that of a child, a girl her own age.
Which would have been nice, but the only other girl for miles about was the coalman’s daughter in the village. Mrs. Curtis, the housekeeper, insisted it simply wouldn’t do for Miss Georgina to associate with the coal-scuttle girl. Such things weren’t proper, and therefore, weren’t done.
She was about to decide she’d imagined it when the someone spoke again.
“Don’t you wish that they’d all get the speckles and die?”
From “The Queen of Lakes” by L.S. Johnson:
The moment the path starts to dip, the world goes silent. The very wind ceases to blow; not a leaf stirs, not an animal can be seen, not even an insect. There is only the rasp of my breath, the blood thudding in my ears.
It is forty-two steps from the silence to the far end of the curve. Forty-two steps where the only sound in the world is myself.
Myself and the each-uisge, I mean.
“Where did you go?” I ask. For he is beside me, though I did not hear him approach. I never hear him.
“Here and there,” he gurgles. His voice is low and wet, as if his mouth were full of jelly. “Across great lakes and little rivers, so many lovely sights. Though not a one as lovely as you, Rose.”
He teases my braid, making it sticky and knotted, and I slap his hand away. Thanks to his fondling I’ve been scolded by Mrs. Duggan more than once now, for looking slovenly. He strokes the bare strip of my throat instead, smearing my skin as he hooks a gluey finger beneath my scarf, trying to tug it away from my neck.
His fingers are so very cold.
The first time he touched me I was so frightened I nearly stopped walking, but I did not stop, I have never stopped.
I do not know what will happen if I stop.
From “Ten Ways to Self-Sabotage, Only Some of Which Relate to Fairies” by Sara Puls:
5. A List
As with people, there are many types of fairies:
A. Within the water fairy family, sirens and selkies and mermaids are the most common. At least, these are the ones Elly most often finds spit out through the faucet into her tub. They’re smaller than she would have guessed. And they have green wings that remind her of kelp.
B. The air fairies consist mostly of ill-tempered Tinker Bell types. They’re always whispering about what needs fixing around the house. And they act out something fierce when Elly and Lina crawl beneath the sheets. Elly learns quickly enough that it’s straight to the basement with them.
C. Fire fairies. The untrained eye sometimes mistakes fire fairies for lizards. They get along with no one, save the air fairies.
D. The earth fairies that frequent Elly’s bungalow most often are tree nymphs and trolls. She finds the tree nymphs tending the potted plants in the kitchen. The trolls sneak into the refrigerator to eat up all the rotten vegetables.
E. House Fairies. These fairies supposedly live only to help with household chores. Elly finds such a claim more than a little suspicious. She trusts these fairies less than most. Why would they want to help someone like her? What did she ever do to deserve it? It has to be a trick.
F. There are also goblin-like fairies that speak mostly Spanish and some Portuguese. These are called Duende. Elly has considered taking up the study of Spanish in order to understand their whispers. But she hasn’t found the energy.
G. The Moon fairies appear only during a full moon.
H. The soul catcher fairies. Whenever they’re around, Elly feels like something is eating at her from the inside out.
I. As a child, Elly had heard that fruit fairies help crops grow. This, she has learned, is true. But there is a limit to how much fruit one can eat.
J. Music fairies. These are Lina’s favorite. But Elly can’t stand it when they sing.
K. Finally there are the ice fairies. They think it’s funny to freeze the water in the pipes. Despite their name, Elly has learned that they do not limit their appearance to the winter months.
Lina likes lists. She tells Elly that making lists might help her take more control of her life. Two months into their relationship, Elly has made several lists. But she still hasn’t revealed how she rids the house of the fluttering, singing, sugar-smelling fey.
From “And Only The Eyes of Children” by Laura VanArendonk Baugh:
I’m one of the rare half-breed freaks myself, though not of the type to get an OMG!!!1! photo on the internet. No, I’m lucky enough to pass on a human street – which conversely means I’m pretty unlucky on what passes for a street in the Twilight Lands. So I tend to spend most of my time here.
Exactly here, in fact. This is a good place for us. What, you don’t think of Indianapolis as being a particularly supernatural city? That just means we’re keeping under the radar. I know, New Orleans and Chicago and places get all the arcane press, but think for a second. Indianapolis has two affectionate sobriquets: “the Crossroads of America,” for its prominent location on first the National Road and later several interstates, and “the Circle City,” for its efficient, nearly ritual, circle and grid layout.
Crossroads and circles, people, right in the advertising. If you can’t find the Fae in that, I can’t help you.
From “Solomon’s Friend” by Kristina Wojtaszek:
Tell you the truth, I didn’t feel much of a need to make myself scarce when I saw what I saw in Solomon’s eyes. He’s a special one, that little guy. Call it a syndrome or part of a spectrum or whatever you will, but there’s another facet to his innocence; a kind of clarity of mind you humans don’t often have. And it was obvious right away, just in the way he looked at me, like there was nothing in the world to be surprised about, finding a hairy little dude inside his geode. Truth be told, I knew I’d been sent here for a reason, and the moment he split my world open, I was faithfully his.
That being said, I should probably get a few things off my overgrown chest here and now, because you’re a wonderful mamacita and all, but you’ve got some things wrong about your kid. Like when Solly seems to assign life to every day objects. That’s actually my fault (mostly). Remember that time he propped his dirty sock up on the end table and said it was “watching him” play Mario?
I saw that look on your face, your forehead all creased up, and I just want you to know, he didn’t actually think the sock was alive. Thing is, I’d kind of made a sleeping bag out of that sock. The little dude knew I was in there, peeking out through the hole where his big toe had worn through but Solomon is smart enough not to mention the little “troll” living in his sock; he knows the meaning of your looks, too, and he knew how much worse that would sound than to say the sock itself was alive.
And come on! If he’d glued a couple of google eyes to the sock, you wouldn’t have thought it was all that crazy, now would you? Kid just wants a friend, is all. Even though you can’t see me, and a lot of times (mostly so he doesn’t get in deep shit) I stay outta sight, he knows when I’m around. So give the kid a break– it isn’t about the sock, ok?
And man is he smart, but you have to take the time to understand his logic. Like just the other day. I was up on his ceiling fan making a regular banquet out of all the dust up there (don’t judge, you eat what you like, I’ll eat what I like!) when you yelled at him for licking the soap off his hands and sent him to his room. So there I was with a nice five o’ clock of sweet, gray fuzz, and I hear Solly down below me start whispering to himself (by the way, he does that when he’s figuring something out, so don’t mess with that, alright?) So he says, real softly, “I ate it because you said there are germs inside my body, duh!”
Duh, mamacita! How else is he supposed to kill those nasty germs that live inside him?