Just Believe

By Rachael Koppendrayer

Vera’s air lasted just long enough to finish the song, and then her throat closed. Wheezing, she dipped a curtsy to sparse applause. Before she could faint onstage, she pushed through the hazy gambling hall and escaped outside.

A gaslight supported her as she fought to catch her breath. At least she’d finished her set, unlike last night. How long until they fired her? A golden voice was worth nothing if she had no breath to sing.

At last, her throat relaxed enough to let in a trickle of air. Trembling, she released the lamppost and collapsed on the front steps of the darkened cafe next door.

A yowl and scrabbling of claws sounded on the awning above, and a flare of phosphorescence—greater than any firefly she’d ever seen—wheeled drunkenly downward. Instinctively, Vera extended cupped palms and caught the tumbling burst of light. It looked like a dragonfly with a mauled wing, but that was no insect attached to the wings. It was a tiny person.

Impossible. She’d heard rumors of such magic but never seen it with her own eyes.

Vera held her breath and lifted the creature up for a closer look, but the light flickered and went out. It was just a dragonfly, large and green and ragged. Not a magical creature at all.

She sighed. Of course it wasn’t real. As if breathing issues weren’t enough, now she was hallucinating.

A soft thump sounded in the shadows, and a cat appeared.

She glared at it. “I heard you up there. You’ve done enough damage for one night. Shoo.”

It rumbled in response.

“Vera? Are you alright?”

She looked up. Her friend, the roving gambler Danny Hoyle, strode down the alley towards her. He rarely stayed in one place for more than a week, as adventure ran in his blood, but they always sought each other out when he was home.

Vera shrugged. “I’m fine.”

But as he joined her on the step, her throat constricted again. The smoke and cheap perfume that had trailed him from the hall threatened to suffocate her. Breathe. In, out. In, out.

Hands cupped her trembling shoulders, lending silent support. At last her throat eased. “It’s getting worse, Danny. I can barely sing. The smoke chokes me until I can’t breathe, and my stage fright has gotten worse. I don’t know what to—ow!”

Claws dug into her thigh as the cat landed. She snatched the dragonfly to her chest. “Scat. Go hunt mice instead.”

Danny pushed the feline away. “What do you have there?”

“I think it’s a green darner.” She ensured the beast was out of reach, then revealed her ward.

His eyes widened, and he leaned closer, his coat rustling. “That’s no dragonfly.”

“Of course it is. See the wings? Damselflies hold them upright.”

A strangled sound emerged from his throat. “Vera, that’s not an insect. It’s a fairy.”

She opened her mouth to scoff when a flicker of green lightning shot through the creature, and the body she thought she’d seen before reappeared. She gasped.

Danny scooped it from her hands. “Hold on, little one. You can’t die yet, not while I believe in you.”

The lightning flickered, and the body wavered between human and dragonfly.

Vera’s eyes widened. “Is it really real?”

“As real as you and me.” Danny cupped his hands around the feather-light creature, as if to protect it from the breeze. “Fairies survive on belief. There may be precious little left in this world, but there’s enough for this one.”

She rested a hand against her throat. “Not even all the belief in the world can spare the dying. Sometimes there’s just no hope.”

“There’s always hope.” Passion sharpened his voice. “Look, I think the wing is mending!”

The iridescent membrane did seem to be knitting itself back together. “How do you know about fairies?”

“You know I’ve spent my life chasing thrills. I’ve learned a few things beyond typical human understanding—but certain things, like hope and belief, have been harder learned than the merely fantastical.” His eyes implored her. “Please believe in her, Vera. I can’t let this little one die.”

How could she believe in the life of an impossible creature when she wasn’t certain of her own? And yet… that luminous flicker sparked something inside her that she hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe… maybe it was hope.

“I do believe in you,” she whispered. “I do.”

The lightning solidified into a steady luminescence, and the fairy’s form stabilized. With a stretch of its arms, the creature rose to its feet, then leapt into the air, hovering over Vera’s lap.

“It worked!” Danny announced as Vera’s eyes lit up with wonder.

There was a low “mrrow” to their right, and the cat bounded over Danny’s knees, paws swiping through the air. The fairy swerved around its claws with a dragonfly’s grace, then darted away, its glow fading into the night.

“The destroyer of dreams, thwarted once more.” Danny grinned as the cat slunk back into the shadows. Then he sobered. “Vera, you could escape, too, you know. Fly away to where the air is clean—where you can sing for joy and not for your livelihood. You really could. I’m leaving on a train at midnight, and you could come with me.”

Vera glanced back at the gambling hall—its windows obscured with haze—then down the street where the fairy had vanished She placed her hand in Danny’s, and a soft smile flitted across her lips. “Maybe there is hope.”

His hand tightened around hers, and he whispered, “Just believe.”

Can you guess which song from the 1980's inspired this story? Share in the comments!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Author and color pencil artist Rachael Koppendrayer has always loved to write and draw, whether it was doodling in class or writing and illustrating her own version of fairy tales. She is the illustrator of Isaac’s Ice Cream Tree, a children’s book by author Angela Henderson, and has published several flash fiction pieces with Splickety Magazine and Havok Publishing.

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