autumnfrond Autumn Frond

It's the year 1966, and it's been thirty-three years since the Fae came down from their hidden, ancient civilization on the Moon and, after secret peace talks with President Eisenhower, they were accorded a strip of territory along the West Coast; under one condition: That the Fae build a great Wall. Roughly twenty years after the rate of Fae murders cause a mass exodus of the Fae folk from the rest of the United States, Het Huntson, a half-Human half-Fae, "Mutt", has to come into his own on the Human side of the Wall. Trapped since as far back as he can remember in the Boy's Ranks of a corrupt mental institution by the name of Shepphard Reft, Het is forced to adopt a life of trickery and deceit in order to survive. With the arrival of a new Nurse, a young woman who he nicknames "Nurse Babe", he begins to find hope of survival. Of freedom. But, can he escape his fate when--as the ancient Queen of the Fae is dying--he begins to sprout wings from between his shoulder blades? Nobody ever told him that only five female Fae ever grew wings at a rare time, once every couple thousand years or so; at the end of the old Fae Monarch's life. Join Het as he sets out on a quest to connect with his cloudy past in a hunt for an identity that leads him to confront the question he fears might define his life forever: To be Human or to be Fae

Science fiction Dystopie Interdit aux moins de 18 ans.

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Het: The Monarch Fae Prince

Volume 1: The Secret Lives of Rain Speckled Butterflies

“Cut a chrysalis open, and you will find a rotting caterpillar. What you will never find is that mythical creature, half caterpillar, half butterfly, a fit emblem for the human soul, for those whose cast of mind leads them to seek such emblems. No, the process of transformation consists almost entirely of decay.”

~ Pat Barker


“Het” Heron Harlowe Huntson

One thing my mother never really told me about being half-human, half-fae was that nobody would ever trust you. Human or fae—it didn’t matter: To be of mixed race was contentious enough, to be a curious hybrid between two species was a whole different sort of limbo.

With a whole different set of rules and expectations to the dance. Forbidden fruits that dangle just out of my, and only my, reach. A sense of being somehow both blighting to others upon sight, as well as an awareness that my natural self can be of such primal, carnal allure to them, that most will instantly hate me for it.

But, hate is easier to understand than love. As it turns out…

And, then there’s the dismal and utter loneliness of it.

Of being me, a mixed being pinched out from two distinct classifications of terrestrial life—forever braided intrinsically between the two polar identities of what is known and considered to be human—and that which, quite simply, just isn’t…

Another fact my mother either didn’t know about, or had somehow forgotten to mention entirely, was that only five female fae were supposed to grow wings at a time.

“Supposed” to: As in, only female fae have ever grown wings, since all of recorded history. And, only five at a time.

And from these five females, who each grew a resplendent pair of colorful wings, the next leader of the fae monarchy would be chosen. The Fae Queen; the only fae with wings who ruled the hive through a direct psychic link.

The other potential rulers either voluntarily had their wings severed annually for the rest of their lives or they were defeated in combat during the Royal Tournament for the fae crown.

Never, before, had a male fae ever sprouted wings for himself.

And never, before, had a half-human, half-fae creature sprouted wings before either.

Never, that is, until that one fateful day, I suppose, in 1966. Let’s see, I think it was a holiday, wasn’t it? That one with all the cupcakes and pink confection icing? Ah, that’s right. Yes. I remember now.

It was Valentine's Day, 1966. Monday.

The day I first started to grow wings.

31 Août 2021 14:58:29 0 Rapport Incorporer Suivre l’histoire
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