The Flood Fairies

2Accomac

Near a recently flooded haunted inn called The Accomac, there was a recent disturbance involving some mud fairies. I have trouble believing that they were outright mean, but at least part of this story can be verified, so it must be at least partially true.

It all started with a soldier who died before his young lady back home had a chance to accept his proposal. His name was Stuart Cannabis, and fortune was only good to him once – the day he became The Unknown Soldier instead of poor old Stuey Cannabis.

Stuart died in his sleep in an apparent effort to avoid being shot at Gettysburg the following week. Upon his chest were a dozen mournful bubble rider fairies who would not leave him, even when some Union soldiers buried him where he was found. He is still there, sleeping.

For a time, Stuart Cannabis and his fairy sprites just lay there dreaming of the woman back home. The world had gotten used to knowing him as “C. S. A. Unknown”, and life went on and on. A curious but simpleminded son of the local ferry runner would sometimes visit. Junior was certain that there was something going on under the grass, because whenever he visited the grave, he would have wild dreams that night. This went on for several years as he and his father would travel across the river and back. The dreams carried him all the way through adolescence, until he could no longer be sure he was awake or asleep.

This is where the mud fairies enter the story, because there is no other explanation for what happened next. John D. Coyle, Jr. got it into his head that he should marry young Emily Myers and they would live happily ever after. In his dreams they would behave as honeymooners, with no responsibilities other than to tend to one another. Poor Emily Myers had no dreams at all, let alone the romantic and erotic ones described by Johnnie Coyle. And she told him so. Twice. This proved to be the end of her, and the end of Johnnie’s dream, for when she laughed at him for saying he saw fairy sprites on bubbles floating in the air, he shot her dead and she stopped laughing.

The fairies, who had stayed with their soldier to the end, would stand by Johnnie all through both of his trials and his eventual hanging. The plea was insanity, but he knew the dirty little fairies were real.

A river separates the burial sights of Emily in Marietta and Johnnie in Accomac, but they continue to argue at Coyle’s Ferry and she still can’t see any fairies, and Johnnie still can’t not.

I know this tale is true because during the recent flash floods, those mud fairies broke into my Facebook account and shut it down. They were in Hallam, a place I have never set foot. But I have been known to send my own bubble riders there on many occasions, and they see everything.

 

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