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by Ian Madison Keller

“My father thought it was nonsense, but my mother believed in the curse.”

Fairies can kiss my white-tailed ass. I never liked fairytales, even before I found out that fairies were the ones responsible for my “condition.” As soon as I was old enough to talk, I peppered my parents with questions about why I couldn’t go play outside like the other children. At first my mom placated me with vague platitudes of “when you’re older” but eventually the truth came out.

I’ve been cursed by a fairy. No really. There was even a video of the fateful event. My mom let me watch it after finally letting it slip one day. I think it was after watching one of those Disney movies where the fairies were helpful and kind.

The video was taken at my first birthday party. My parents had invited anyone and everyone who was anyone. All the famous celebrities had vied to attend. My dad’s a successful movie star. Well, my mom too. They both had been made famous in the same debut, playing the Prince and Princess on a mega-famous TV show. It had been the talk of the tabloids when they ended up getting married for real. When I came along the media dubbed me Princess. The nickname stuck.

Anyways, my parents turned my first party into quite the event of the season. Everybody brought gifts. You can see them, piled in the corner of the video. Jewelry, perfume, statues, stuffed animals, and more. Lots of stuff inappropriate for a baby, if you ask me.

At first, the video focuses on me. The view pans around to the room as a woman sweeps in all dramatic like. She’s older, in a layered red dress with poofy skirts that fall all the way to the floor. A mask shaped like a crab covers her face except for her eyes. Still, you can tell her age by the tight-highness of her voice, the wrinkles and age spots on her hands, and the slate-gray of her hair that’s pulled into an intricate bun on the top of her head.

She rants about not being invited to her own god-daughter’s birthday party. The overhead lights begin flickering on and off as the woman storms across the room. You could tell the person behind the camera is terrified, the way it bounces all over. You can even hear his muttered cursing in the background. Still, my parents hired a professional. He keeps filming.

The woman gets to me where I’m sitting up in a high chair, birthday cake smeared all over my face and hands. My mother throws herself between me and the woman. “I’m sorry I forgot to invite you. I made a terrible mistake. Please don’t take it out on my baby.”

Then come the fateful lines. “Very well.” Her back is to the camera now, but you can hear the sneer in her voice. “I’ll let the child live. After all, my magic worked so hard to help you create her. Still, there must be a price to be paid. If she sees sunlight before she is married, a terrible fate will befall her.”

My mother falls to her knees, crying, as the woman in red laughs. In the flickering lights, it’s hard to tell, but it looks like her form withers and shrinks until she vanishes altogether. If you play the video frame-by-frame, there was a brief point, a single frame long, where I’d swear she was a crab. But my mother disagrees.

That was the end of the video. Or at least the part my mom showed me. But I could hear the way, before my mom turned it off, that the guests started to laugh as the lights come back on. They probably thought it was a prank. But my mom knew better.

This next part, the why, I didn’t get till a few years later. We were in the kitchen of our underground house – no sunlight remember –cooking dinner. Well, mostly I was cooking under my mom’s instruction, as she slowly finished off a bottle of wine. My mom got drunk, and admitted that after trying and failing to have a child, they tried fertility treatments. They’d sunk millions in that, with no success. At least until they tried some “alternative” treatments involving a mushroom fairy ring and a summoning spell. She confessed that they’d both been very high and not a little drunk. Apparently it had been uproariously funny when they dreamed that a self-proclaimed fairy had actually answered their summons. Quite the hallucination! Especially the way her form wavered from crab to woman and back again inside the circle of mushrooms.

She thought it a coincidence when nine months later I was born. But then, at the party, it all came back to her and she knew it hadn’t been a dream. My father thought it was nonsense, but my mother believed in the curse.

At least I had the Internet. I took all my classes online, and my tutors Skyped in if they couldn’t come in person. It did get a little lonely. When I watched TV shows where the classrooms are filled with kids my age, I couldn’t help but feel a little bit jealous. It wasn’t like I never saw anyone in person. Mom and Dad continued to do movies, and I got to go to quite a few of the release parties, since they usually didn’t start until after dark anyway. And sometimes my parents would throw parties at our house, in the regular, upstairs part. The underground part was our little secret, since no one else believed my mom about the curse.

In my spare time, I read every bit of lore, legend, and tale about fairies I could find, looking for a way out.

I had lots of friends online, and I debated with them about what to do. I needed to get married to break the curse, but, ugh, marriage. Once I hit sixteen, Dad started bringing home some of his teenage costars. Frankly, I really did not see what all the fuss was about. I never really had much in common with them, and they were almost never as cute in person as they were on the TV screen.

My Internet friends would always gasp and wail when I’d tell them this after the parties. “How can you say that about Joshua?” Or “Freddie?” Or whoever the hot new guy was that week.

“I’m just not that into them,” I’d frequently say with a shrug. “Anyway, if I had my wish it would be to meet any of you in person.”

This particular day I was video chatting with Zach. Zach was my best friend, and the one that I really longed to meet in person. She hated her birth name, so she was trying out the name Zach right now.

I lay on my stomach on my bed, head in my hands, laptop set in front of me. Zach was at her computer desk, movie posters plastered the wall behind her head. She leaned back in her chair and put her hands behind her head as she listened to me telling her about last night’s party, and the boy my parents had shoved at me. A boy who’s smiling face stared at me mockingly from one of the posters behind Zach.

“Honestly, Princess,” Zach shoved her keyboard away so she could put her elbows on the desk and her head in her hands, mimicking my pose. “Just pick one and marry him. You can always get divorced after the curse is broken.”

I don’t think Zach believed me about the curse. She played along, but the flippant way she talked about it told me she wasn’t taking me seriously. I groaned and flopped face first onto the covers. “That feels like a copout. Besides, I’m seventeen. Too young to get married. And especially not to movie star. It’s like you’ve never read a tabloid before.”

“You know,” Zach sounded thoughtful. “My school is doing a trip to San Francisco next week to attend the high school national shooting competition. Maybe we can meet up in person while I’m there.”

I glanced up to see the screen, expecting Zach to stick out her tongue at me or something, so I’d know she’s joking. Instead, to my surprise, she looked serious. I blinked at her image on my laptop screen for a few minutes. “You realize LA is in Southern California right? Not anywhere near San Francisco.”

“It can’t be that far.”

I sat up and shifted to sit cross legged in front of my laptop. “This isn’t like your tiny Eastern states.” Not like I’d ever been, but we liked to tease each other. “That’s like an all day drive up there with traffic.” Not that I’d ever been. But my parents had and were always complaining about the traffic. Zach pouted at me and I sighed. She was right though. This was probably our best chance. “All right, all right. I’ll talk to my mom.”

* * *

The next morning at breakfast, I was eating cereal at the island in the underground kitchen when my mom came in. Now or never. “Hey Mom.”

“Yes, Princess?” She opened the fridge and began rummaging through. “I’m listening.”

“One of my Internet friends is coming on a trip to San Francisco next week.” I could practically hear my mom’s frown, even with her back turned me so I rushed through the rest of my proposal. “I want to go up there to meet them.”

My mom emerged from the fridge with her arms full of supplies to make breakfast, and shut the door with the kick of her leg. She dumped everything on the counter next to the stove and got out a pan before answering. “You know that’s not possible. Why not have your friend come to you?”

“It’s a school trip. They can’t leave the group.”

My mom shook her head and cracked an egg into the pan. “Absolutely not. It’s too dangerous until you get married and break the curse. And you’ve shot down every guy we introduced you to.”

“But I’m so excited to meet Zach in person —”

My mom dropped the spatula—startling me so I stopped talking—and turned to stare at me. “Zach? Are you showing interest in a boy?”

I knew it was wrong, but I saw my opening. I bit my lip and blushed. It wasn’t entirely an act. “I am very interested in Zach, yes.”

My mom’s eyes blazed and she clapped her hands. “Wonderful! I’ll call ahead and set up reservations at a restaurant on the waterfront. Alioto’s will stay open late if I ask.”

“Aren’t we both a bit young for marriage? We’re both still high schoolers, after all.” I don’t know what my mom was thinking. I knew I already had her hook line and sinker, but it’d look suspicious if I didn’t put up a token protest.

My mom waved this way with an airy wave of her hand. “Not at all. You meet, and if you like each other I’m sure we can arrange an emergency ceremony that very night.”

My eyes went wide. The train was already getting out of control. “But Zach’s parents—”

“If you do decide to go through with it I’ll fly them out. I’m sure they’ll understand if I talk to them on the phone.” My mom rushed out of the room, in her excitement leaving the egg to burn in the pan on the stove.

“I’m sure they’ll be so star struck at finding out who you are that you’ll be able to get away with it, yes,” I muttered to the empty kitchen as I went over and turned off the burner.

* * *

Zach was so excited when I told her that night. “I can’t believe I get to meet you!”

“My mom’s even getting us reservations at Alioto’s for that night.” I told her, still in amazement that my mom had agreed to this. “One hitch though. She thinks you’re a guy.”

Zach doubled over laughing and pulled her shoulder-length hair back behind her head with one hand. “How you doing?” she said with an exaggerated deep voice and pointed at the laptop camera. Then she winked at me. I laughed.

“But seriously,” I said, wiping the tears of mirth from my eyes with my sleeve. “What are we going to do?”

“I’ll think of something.” She grinned at me, bouncing up and down on her chair in excitement. “There’s been something I’ve been aching to try, and this is the perfect excuse.”

* * *

“I wish I could go with you, dear,” my mom said, kissing me on each cheek. The sun had not yet risen, and the chilled morning air made me shiver in my thin shirt. My mom and dad both had movie shoots today, so I was being driven alone to San Francisco by a hired driver. My mom had gotten a special window tinting treatment done on one of her cars so that I could ride in the backseat without seeing sunlight.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” I assured her. “I’ll call you from the restaurant once I get there.”

“Please do that.” My mom said and then turned to my driver, Madeleine. “You keep my little girl safe, you hear me?”

Madeleine nodded, looking serious. She was attending dinner with Zach and I as a chaperone. I told Zach last night by phone, and she had assured me again that she had it all taken care of.

“I will, ma’am.”

My mother gave Madeleine a sharp nod and headed for the car idling at the curb that would take her to her movie shoot. We both waved as she pulled away and then Madeleine ushered me towards my specially outfitted car that was sitting in the driveway. I climbed in the back seat, and Madeleine in the front. She put the key in the ignition and pressed a button. The divide between the front and back seats whirred slowly closed, encasing me in darkness. I quickly turned on the overhead light. I shivered as I felt the car rock as Madeleine backed down the driveway and out onto the street.

* * *

The rocking motion of the car on asphalt combined with the inability to look at the windows left me motion sick. Occasionally I used the intercom to message Madeleine and get updates on where we were, since I couldn’t see the street signs. After what felt like an eternity, Madeleine told me, “About forty more minutes. We just passed through San Jose, and are currently driving through the hills outside San Francisco.”

“Is it dark yet? I really need to get out and stretch my legs.” And use the bathroom, but I didn’t need to tell her that.

“Sorry, Princess. In fact, at this rate we’ll get to San Francisco before dark.”

I took my hand off the intercom button, and sat back with a sigh, going back to watching a movie on my iPad. Unexpectedly, I felt the car slow.

The intercom crackled on, and Madeleine’s voice came through. “Got off at a rest stop. Your question made me realize I need a break, and since we’re ahead of schedule I know you won’t mind.”

I huffed. Madeleine had a point. But I felt petty enough that I didn’t reply. A moment later the car rocked as Madeleine’s door opened and she got out. I was jealous as I imagined her walking through the sunshine. I’d seen it so many times in the movies that I could visualize what it looked like.

However, Zach had described to me about the warmth of the sun and how it felt tingly on your skin after a long day indoors. Movies couldn’t simulate that. Maybe Zach was right that I should just get married to the next guy my parents pushed at me. Not like I hadn’t thought about it before. Quick marriage. Quicker divorce. But ever since I found out I was cursed, I’d done a lot of reading about fairies. Everything I read suggested that they were quite literal, and if the curse meant I had to be married for the curse to be broken, if I got divorced it might come back since then I would no longer be married.

I shook my head. All this was speculation anyway. The intercom crackled to life, and I jumped in surprise. I hadn’t heard the driver’s door open, or felt the car shift like Madeleine had returned.

A voice came through the intercom, along with deep breathing. There was a lot of static too, and I leaned closer to hear better. I could almost make out words, as if a heavy breather was sub vocalizing or whispering them. Then to my horror, I heard the whir of a window going down to my left. I scrambled away, huddling down in the footwell, but I couldn’t avoid the piercing rays of light in the small backseat of the car. After a moment there was another whir as the passenger side window and the partition with the front seat both began lowering. There was nowhere I could go.

I cringed as the first light hit my face. Where the light hit fur began sprouting up, and I screamed at the sensation of it prickling out through my skin. I thrashed and writhed, hitting the door with my back. It opened, or rather someone opened it, and I spilled out onto the asphalt, landing on my back. Looking down at me was Madeleine’s shocked face. I cried and begged for help, but my words came out garbled as my mouth transformed like the rest of me. I held out my hands to her for help, only to see my fingers fuse together and turn brown and hard.

I could feel my legs shifting as well and heard a thump as my shoes fell off. I rolled over onto my stomach and stood up to all fours, balancing on long slender legs and arms now tipped with hooves. I raised my head, flicking my now large ears that stuck out from my head, and then turned my head to look down the length of myself.

I was now a deer, with snow white fur poking out from beneath my jeans and T-shirt. My legs felt constricted in the rough fabric of my jeans. They were already half fallen off, so I pranced about with a little kick of my back legs that threw off the jeans, stumbling as I got used to the way my new legs worked.

Experimentally I flipped my puff of a tail, and it bobbed about on command.

Nothing hurt, and satisfied that all my pieces were there and accounted for, I looked about myself. We were at a rest stop off the highway. There were a few other cars parked in the lot, and a growing crowd of people wandering my way, pulling out cameras to point at me. All I could see, besides the rest stop and the highway, were brown hills full of dry grass and trees.

I felt a sudden urge to get away from the large press of people. Hooves clattering on asphalt, I stumbled away into the brush. Walking with all four legs was complicated, and at first I had to walk in a stiff-legged gait as I concentrated on getting all four of my limbs to move in concert. A while longer and I was bounding along like I’d been born a deer. Now that I had figured out walking, I was able to properly stop and appreciate the sunlight beating down on me. Zach had been right about how warm it was.

Zach. I vaguely remembered her face, but the longer I was a deer, the more I felt like a deer. I caught myself grazing on the dry leaves as I walked more than once. I began to wonder about the cloth around my neck and front half and why it was there. It kept catching on the sun-dried twigs of the trees I moved through. I tried to keep moving north, despite not being able to remember why. The farther north I went, the more houses I spotted. I was drawn to them, but my deer nature was skittish of the humans that moved around those dwellings, and so I avoided them.

As twilight fell, my limbs began to tingle. I found a large evergreen with low branches and crawled underneath, laying down and tucking my long hooved legs underneath me. The reverse of the transformation was slower, but just as painful. Once I was fully human again I lay on the bed of soft pine needles and hugged myself, shivering. I was naked except for the torn remains of my T-shirt.

This was not good. Given my “condition” I’d never been camping or spent really any time at all in the outdoors. I didn’t even have my phone or any way to call for help, since that had been in the pocket of my jeans, which my deer-self had kicked off in a panic. At least I wasn’t hungry. As a deer I’d been grazing on the foliage all day as I walked.

As I lay there trying to think of what to do, I heard a scuttling on pine needles, and sat up in alarm. The sky was the deep purple of twilight, and the light had not yet faded entirely. I squinted my eyes against the gloom, trying to see what was disturbing the dried pine needles. I blinked as a crab crawled into view, the dull brown of its carapace blending in with the dark pine needles. The crab crawled closer, clacking its pincers at me. I scrambled backwards.

The edges of the crab began sparkling and soon the crab’s entire body was engulfed in a blue light. The light brightened and expanded, and when it faded, a woman in a red dress stood there, hunched over, under the bows of the tree. The woman from the videos. The crab mask was pushed high on her head so I could see her face.

“Well, girl,” the woman—the fairy—said, looking down her nose at me. “Your parents thought they could escape the consequences of their actions, but I knew if I was patient that eventually I would see justice done. So lucky that the electrical system of the car shorted out like it did.” She winked at me.

“Justice?” I sputtered, angrily getting to my feet. I kept my hands clasped across my chest in a vague attempt to keep my tattered shirt from showing everything. “How is this justice?” I stomped my foot. “I’ve done nothing to wrong you.”

The fairy shrugged, and twirled, I could see that her feet under her red dress as it lifted were not human feet but crab legs. “Wrong me? No. But your parents never came through on their end of the bargain, and so your life is mine to do with as I wish. Come serve me in my castle for seven years, and in return I’ll see the curse lifted.”

Seven years? That felt like an eternity. And what would happen to Zach, and my parents, while I was gone? I glared at the fairy in defiance. Not to mention knowing what I knew about fairies, I knew there had to be a catch. “No.”

The fairy clacked angrily, and I looked at her hands to see that they had turned back into claws which were rapidly clacking open and closed. “Fine then. Another week as a deer should soften you up.” And with that she disappeared in a sparkling twinkle of light.

Shivering, I lay back down and cried myself to sleep.

A crack of gunfire shattering the morning brought me fully awake. The sun had already risen and I’d changed back into a deer as I slept. Gunfire meant people, and people meant help. Shooting also reminded me of Zach and her competition. The deer part of me wanted to run from the sound, but today I was able to hold onto myself more, overcome my instincts, and force myself towards the sound.

I bounded quickly through the forest on my four legs, following the narrow game trails other deer had carved through the forest. The sounds of gunfire grew louder as I crested the hill. Below me was a shooting range set into the base of the hill. I moved out onto a rise so I could look down at the humans below me. My tail flicked up as I stared down at the group with my sensitive ears pinned to my head in a futile attempt to lessen the crack of the gunfire.

I felt drawn to the little people milling below, though I couldn’t say why. I backed off the rise and wound my way down the hill, pushing through the brush. Not surprisingly, none of the game trails came close to the shooting range.

A tall fence encircled the property. I could maybe have jumped over it, but I was still not entirely used to my four-legged form. Besides, I didn’t want to accidentally get shot. I pushed out of the brush and came into a parking lot. Several buses were in the lot, each one had the banner of a different school on it. As I looked towards the door, a group of teenagers spilled out. They were led by none other than Zach. I recognized her immediately, even with her hair cut short and her chest bound flat.

The teenagers all piled to a stop, gasping and pointing at me. The sun beat down on me from high in the sky, and my deer nature screamed at me to run. But Zach’s staring face drew me to her. Walking slowly, each step was a slow fight against my deer instincts.

Zach was so handsome. Better looking in person even than she had been over video chat. I walked up until we were nose to nose.

Zach stared into my eyes, her eyes wide, her breathing fast and hard. “Princess?” she whispered.

I bobbed my head. Zach reached up to touch me when a door slammed, startling me. I jumped sideways and back, and my deer instincts took over, driving me out of the parking lot and away from the humans.

“Wait!” I heard Zach call out behind me, but it was too late; I couldn’t stop myself from bolting.

A rifle barked and a piercing pain shot up my flank and down one of my back legs. I stumbled, but was able to keep going despite the pain. I staggered, limping my way back into the dry woods outside the shooting range.

“Don’t shoot her!” Zach yelled.

I heard a human stumbling through the woods behind me, which only heightened my terror. I kept going; the sharp copper tang of my blood filled my nose, leaving a trail behind me that the more rational part of myself knew would draw predators to me.

Eventually I collapsed, folding my hooves under me, unable to go any farther. My injured back leg, where I’d been shot, I stuck out to the side. I closed my eyes and panted.

The sun was low when Zach came stumbling up behind me, filthy and sweating in the summer California heat and carrying a compact plastic first aid kit in one hand. She fell to the ground next to me and opened up the kit.

I looked at her dully, the pain making it hard to think. Zach held out a hand towards me, and I craned my neck out to sniff it.

“Princess—” Zach smiled, and I allowed her to pet my nose. “Can I bandage you up?”

I flicked my tail and one ear in amusement and bobbed my head at her. I looked back at her while she worked on my injured leg. My white fur was stained with blood in a trail all the way down to my hoof.

“You’re probably wondering about my outfit,” she said as she worked. I appreciated the distraction of conversation, wincing as she rubbed an alcohol wipe along where the bullet had grazed my left flank. She glanced up at me and smiled, making my heart skip a beat. I flicked my ears and nuzzled her side with my muzzle. She giggled and rubbed me between the ears with her free hand. Then she tugged at her shirt and touched her short hair by her ears. “I dressed as a guy so we could fool your mom. I gotta say though, I really love it!” She giggled and went back to dressing my wound. “I’m using he pronouns now. And I think I want to transition.”

As Zach was taping on the last of the dressing, the sun went down the rest of the way. Zach gasped and fell back as my fur began to shimmer and I transformed. A moment later I lay there as a human again, flexing my fingers to get used to the feel of them after having hooves all day.

“Princess, it really is you!” Zach pulled me into a hug. I hugged her, or him now, back.

“It is.” As much as I would have loved to hug Zach forever, I pushed him back so I could look at him. “How did you know?”

Zach smiled and touched my check. “I’d know those lovely eyes anywhere.” Zach let his hand trail lower, to the last scraps of the shirt that hung off my shoulders. “Plus, I recognized your shirt. I’ve mentioned it being my favorite one of yours. And when I called your phone after you didn’t show up for dinner the other night, your driver told me a wild tale about you turning into a snow white deer.”

I bit my lip and nodded, unable to stop the tears that sprung up. “It’s the curse, Zach.” I told him about my visit from the fairy and her offer of servitude to take away the curse.

He took off his shirt while I talked and offered it to me. Underneath he wore a second shirt that looked stretchy and flattened his chest. I took the shirt gratefully, tearing off the last of my rags before pulling it over my head.

“What am I going to do, Zach?” I asked, rubbing my injured thigh. The bandage itched on my skin.

“I know seven years seems like forever, but you’d only be twenty-three or twenty-four by the time you serve out your sentence. I could wait for you.” He took my hand and kissed it.

I shook my head. “I don’t trust the fairies. Haven’t you ever read any of the old tales?”

Zach shook his head.

“In almost all the stories, time in fairyland passes differently than in the real world. Seven years there could be seventy, or seven-hundred years back here.”

Zach’s eyes widened. “Oh.” He frowned. “So, you turn into a deer only during the day.”

I nodded my head and touched the bandage on my leg. “That guy tried to shoot me. Why?”

He tapped the breast of the shirt I now wore and scowled. I pulled it out so I could see the logo. It was hard as it was getting darker, but I made out a pair of crossed rifles. “He shouldn’t have done that. It’s not hunting season. I was in a hurry to get the first aid kit and go after you or I would have yelled at him. At least I heard the teacher reaming him out as I was leaving.”

“What are we going to do now?” I shivered and hugged Zach closer. “I’m going to turn into a deer again tomorrow. What if there are other hunters around?”

“Come back to the hotel with me.” Zach cuddled me protectively. “You can stay there during the day, at least for the next few days.”

I shook my head. “I can’t stay locked in a hotel room all day. When I’m a deer, I feel like a deer. I don’t know if I could keep from destroying the room in a panic to get out.”

“Shit.” Zach sighed. “Well, can you meet me here tomorrow at dusk? I’ll bring you clothes and try to come up with a better plan.”

I bit my lip. “What if hunters shoot at me again?”

“They shouldn’t. It’s not hunting season. But…” Zach trailed off as I stiffened and touched my leg. “Your white color does stand out.” He mused. He let me go and scooted back from me to take a handkerchief from the front pocket of his jeans. He carefully folded it up into a triangle and took both ends. “Here.” He got on his knees and leaned towards me, wrapping the cloth around my neck and knotting it at the base of my throat. “The cloth collar should give people pause, at least. I’ll bring a proper collar for you tomorrow. We can say you’re my pet when you are in deer form.”

It was dark enough now I couldn’t quite see the gift properly, but I smiled and reached up to touch the cloth. Zach leaned over me and brought his lips to mine gently for a moment, then sat back.

“You be okay alone until tomorrow night?” he asked softly.

I smiled, although I knew he probably couldn’t see me in the dark. “I will be now.”

* * *

I found a safe spot to sleep under a tree and managed to wake up before the sun rose the next morning, in time to take off my shirt before transforming into a deer, but I left on the crude collar. My leg hurt, but not bad. I spent the day bounding about the hills outside San Francisco, munching on the leaves and grass.

As we planned I returned back to the area near the shooting range as it began to get dark. I found Zach pacing nervously near the spot where I met him yesterday. He wore an outfit similar to the day before, and a bulging backpack sat at his feet.

His eyes went wide as I pranced towards him in my deer form. He hardly dared breathe as I came up to him and nuzzled his shoulder with my muzzle. I was still a bit skittish as he petted me, but as a deer I was more comfortable around him than the day before. He stood with me until the sun went down and I fell to the dirt, my hooves splitting into fingers and my fur withdrawing back into my skin.

He helped me sit up, and retrieved a bottle of water from his backpack which he helped me sip from for a moment before offering me a pile of clean, folded clothes.

“So what’s the plan?” I asked him breathlessly as I got dressed. I pulled the shirt on first, then sat down and put on the pants. Before I stood up he offered me a pair of flip-flops.

“I didn’t know your shoe size and I forgot to ask yesterday, sorry,” he said as I stood and slipped my feet through the flip-flop straps. They were a little big, but serviceable. “Come with me,” he said, taking my hand. We began to move down the trail, down the hill towards the shooting range. “I’ve been thinking about the curse and how to break it.”

“We can’t,” I said. “I’d have to get married to break the curse.”

It was light enough I could still see the smile on his face. “I know, that’s the idea.” He wouldn’t say anymore, no matter how much I pressed him as we hiked down the hill. We came to the blacktop and turned, following the curve of the road down into the parking lot of the shooting range. There was only one bus remaining in the parking lot, with a gaggle of bored teenagers hanging around outside it. They looked up at our approach, as if expecting us.

One of them stepped out of the group and approached us, a dark-haired girl with glasses. I had seen her pictures before on Zach’s Facebook page. His friend Emily.

“Everything’s ready inside,” she said to Zach before turning to me and thrusting her hand out. “Hi, you must be Princess. I’m Emily.”

Zach paused long enough for me to shake her hand. “Nice to meet you. What, exactly, is going on?”

“Inside, you’ll see!” she said with a big smile, dashing ahead of us to open the door to the shooting range’s shack.

Inside had been decorated with white streamers and balloons. A grocery store cake decorated with white frosting sat on a glass counter filled with guns and ammunition. Two adults, a man and a woman, wearing an outfit almost identical to Zach’s stood inside, along with a portly man who wore a green polo shirt with the shooting range’s logo on it.

They all introduced themselves to me, but I was so overwhelmed that I blanked on all their names. The woman flourished an official looking piece of paper at us.

“I am now officially licensed to perform weddings in the state of California!” she announced proudly. All pieces fell into place. I squealed and whirled around to hug Zach. He hugged me back tightly. Then he let go and dropped to one knee in front of me, pulling a little ring box out of his pocket and presenting it to me.

“I know it’s sudden, and we’re young, but will you marry me, Bright Heart?” he blurted out, his voice shaking. I winced at his use of my official name. There were many reasons I preferred the nickname Princess, the main one being my official name was stupid. That’s what you get with movie star parents who did a lot of drugs when you were younger. That, and evil fairy godmothers. All in all, I could’ve done without either one.

I wiped the tears from my eyes, and fell to my knees in front of him and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. “Yes,” I whispered into his ear around the lump that formed in my throat.

Crying, he hugged me back, the ring box digging into my back. The ceremony was short but sweet. The teacher led the ceremony, and we both said our “I do’s” before Zach slipped the cheap plastic ring on my finger, and then we kissed while everyone clapped. Pieces of the grocery store cake were passed out on paper plates. Then we all trooped out to the bus. I didn’t let go of Zach’s hand the whole time.

Zach and I sat next to each other on the bus, I rested my head on Zach’s shoulder and admired the ring on my finger in the light of the passing cars. It was ugly, but it was mine and I loved it. “Don’t we need our parent’s permission to get married?” I said softly, hoping the ceremony had been enough to break the fairy’s curse.

“Nope,” Zach laughed softly. “Not at seventeen.”

The bus dropped us off in front of a hotel, and we all retired to our rooms for the night. I called my mom from Zach’s room, and told her where I was. Of course she’d believed Madeleine when she’d been told about my transformation, and had had searchers out looking for me near the rest stop. But they hadn’t realized I’d gone so far north. My mom wanted to drive over right then, but I was so tired. We told her we’d see her in the morning, and then we both went to bed. Zach spooned me and it felt right. I never wanted anyone or anything else.

I guess I figured that’d be the end of it. But no. I woke up the next morning in the throes of transformation. Suddenly, Zach had to deal with sharing a bed with a very large and very confused white doe. There was a lot of shouting, mostly from Zach, and bleats of terror, mostly from me.

I sprinted around the room that was suddenly far too small for my long, gangly legs. Zach managed to herd me into the bathroom, cornering me, and grabbed my head, petting me between the ears and whispering soothing words until I settled down and stopped kicking.

I rolled my eyes at him, still terrified. I hadn’t been prepared for the transformation, and my deer instincts had taken over completely. But the smell of him combined with his soft talking eventually calmed me down.

I lay with my head resting in his lap. He slumped exhausted over the side of the bathtub. He looked at me, his hair rumpled from sleep and his eyes filled with tears. “It didn’t work…”

A clacking sound in the bathtub caught both our attention. A crab crawled up the side of the bathtub to perch on the edge. A human voice came from crab’s mouth as it scuttled back and forth by Zach’s head.

“Of course it didn’t work, deary,” the crab said in the fairy’s high-pitched voice. The crab cackled and clicked its claws. “You had to have been married before seeing sunlight the first time.”

Being a deer I couldn’t talk, but Zach asked her the question I was thinking. “So she’ll be like this for the rest of her life? Only human at night?”

The crab scuttled close to Zach’s face and snapped a claw at his nose. He flinched back and hugged my head closer. “Impertinent girl.”

“Boy!” Zach snapped back.

“Unless she takes up my offer, yes.” The crab scuttled back down the side of the bathtub. “I’ll come back tonight for your answer.” The tap of crab leg on porcelain faded away, as quickly as it’d come.

Zach let go of my head and stood up to peer down into the bathtub. I did too, my hooves sliding on the slick bathroom tile. The bathtub was empty again. The fairy had gone.

There was a knock on the door leading to the hall. “Zach, everything all right?” It was the female teacher, the one whose name I couldn’t remember.

Zach turned to me and put a finger to his lips. “Wait here,” he said in a whisper. He left and shut the bathroom door behind him. His voice came through the door, muffled, but still understandable. “Fine, Mrs. Derman.”

The teacher responded, but I couldn’t hear her. Then Zachary’s voice came again, clearer. “Princess and I are going to stay here until her mom gets here. I’m going to withdraw from the competition.”

Shouting for a bit, then murmurs. Then I heard the door shut, and the door to the bathroom opened again. “We’ll stay here until your mom gets here. Hopefully she knows what to do.”

She did not. Neither did any of the oracles, soothsayers, or other spiritual and magical advisors that my mom had made the acquaintance of over the years that she called for advice. The three of us huddled in that hotel room, the two of them tried to keep me calm until dark.

Finally the sun went down, and I transformed back to human. My mom hugged me, crying. “Take the service honey. You can’t live like this.”

“No, I already explained this to Zach. I can’t risk losing you. Besides,” I admitted, sitting on the bed between them and taking both her hands. “I actually quite like being a deer. You’ve never felt it. Bounding through the woods, nature all around you. No human worries weighing you down. It’s amazing. I don’t want to give that up.”

* * *

So, I didn’t. When the fairy came back, I told her where to shove it. And she couldn’t do anything about it. It’s in all the old tales if you know where to look. Fairy magic can’t affect you if you don’t make a deal with it. She scuttled about, turning herself into a giant crab and clacking her claws at us, yelling threats. But it was all bluff and bluster. Eventually, she got tired and left, and I went home with my mom and Zach.

My mom bought us a hundred acre property out in the California desert. During the day, I bound around my own private nature reserve with a pretty gold collar around my neck. A few times Zach put a leash on me and walked me around the downtown of the little town nearest our property. Word got around pretty fast that the pretty white doe was his pet and not to be messed with. At night I turn back to human, and get to spend the night with my adorable husband.

Zach still does shooting competition sometimes. I watch them on TV at home, wishing I could be there with him. It’s the only time now I regret my curse. He’s gotten pretty good. Made it to nationals a few times. Brought in enough money from sponsorships that we don’t have to rely on my parents anymore.

I love my life now and wouldn’t change anything. But still, fairies can kiss my white-tailed ass. And if I never see another one, it will be too soon.

 

* * *

About the Author

Ian Madison Keller is a fantasy writer currently living in Oregon. Originally from Utah, he moved up to the Pacific Northwest on a whim a decade ago and never plans on leaving. Ian has been writing since 2013 with eight novels and more than a dozen published short stories out so far. Ian has also written under the name Madison Keller before transitioning in 2019 to Ian.

His novels include the Flower’s Fang trilogy and the four book award-winning Dragonsbane Saga self-published under Rainbow Dog Press, as well as an urban fantasy series with Fanged Fiction. His work has won a Cóyotl Award and two Leo Literary awards. He is also the new editor of ROAR starting in 2020 with ROAR 11.  More information can be found on his website, http://madisonkeller.net.  He can also be found on Twitter: @maddiekellerr

by Tim Susman

“They did not make the familiar barks of humans, none of the words Shadow knew, but instead made noises like a dying animal that never died.”

The food smell led Shadow a way he hadn’t gone before, so he placed his paws carefully among the jagged pieces of brick and concrete. He stayed to the shadows where he could, letting the darkness hide his black-furred form, and he kept his ears perked high for any noises other than the skittering of little rodents and the buzzing of insects. An 80-pound German Shepherd could handle most things he encountered these days, but not all, and even if he won a fight, he might sustain an injury more serious than those mapped in scars around his body.

Wind swirled and the smell floated around his head. He stopped and lifted his nose, turning one way and then another until the breeze died down and the trail picked up again. Raccoon and blood: fresh, less than a day old. Though he had to find his way around a car that smelled of old fire, over a pile of rubble that clawed at his sensitive paws, and through a gap in a metal gate bent and buckled from the outside (yet still somehow standing), he didn’t mind the obstacles because his nose told him the struggle was worth it.

It was worth passing up the half-rotted possum carcass for this; it was worth abandoning the faint smell behind the cold scentless steel that he knew could open but had never figured out how. This was the kind of thing that sometimes took him most of a day to find, and some days he didn’t find it at all.

The houses around him, some whole, some damaged, remained mostly quiet. The bad smell lingered faintly around some of them, but not so much that his hackles raised. This area had not been easy to get into, but once he made his way through the gate, he felt the difference in the world, an easing of tension. The bad smell was the worst thing he would have to watch out for, worse than other dogs or sharp stones or groups of people with death-bangs, so he walked down the middle of the street along the smooth asphalt, moving to the cooler sidewalk when he could.

He found the source of the food smell soon after: a house that looked not too different from the others. The smell might be inside, he thought until he came to one side of the house where a large tree leaned against it and more of the sharp-clawed rubble lay around the base. The smell of dust was fresh here, as were the smells of other raccoons, cats, and other dogs.

One dog smell in particular came strongly to him, and now his hackles did go up. His ears went straight up and he stood still and quiet, sniffing and listening.

After a moment, he heard it: slow steps and snuffling, the other dog. It was coming around the corner of the house behind him. As quietly as he could, he turned and stood facing that corner, waiting, and when the dog came around the corner, Shadow sized it up in half a second—half his size, scrawny, only a minor threat—and then leapt forward while the black-and-white dog was still surprised. He barked as loudly as he could: back off, get out!

The dog yelped and stumbled backwards and then took off at a run. Shadow watched, because sometimes they stopped at a distance to size up the situation, but this dog kept going until he was out of sight behind a house across the street.

After that, it was an easy matter—more or less—to make his way up the trunk of the tree to where the raccoon lay crushed between a branch and the claws of the broken roof of the house. Shadow had to tear the body to get it free, so he fed himself from the smaller pieces until he felt stronger, enough to take the edge off his hunger. This would be a good time to rest, up on the roof, if only he didn’t need to bring this prize back.

So he hefted the furred body in his jaws, shifting it until he got a good grip, and then made his way down the trunk. The other dog, if it were still around, kept its distance, and Shadow remained undisturbed as he returned down the quiet street to the gate.

At the metal bars, he had to push the raccoon through and drop it before squeezing himself through. He bent to pick it up and then hesitated. His nose was full of raccoon and blood, but a sound came to him, several creatures moving together heedless of noise. He stepped away from the raccoon and lifted his nose and there it was, faint but fresh on the air. His hackles rose.

He grabbed the raccoon, but it slipped, loose skin and thick coat too much for his teeth to find purchase. The noises grew, definitely coming toward him. He found a grip and pulled, dragging the body along the ground, but at least he was moving.

When he got to the sharp-clawed rubble, he had to slow down even more, and that’s where they caught him.

The bad smell came off them in waves, like the dead raccoon but more wrong, and these creatures were like humans but they moved unnaturally, swinging their limbs like dead weight, their heads listing at an angle. They did not make the familiar barks of humans, none of the words Shadow knew, but instead made noises like a dying animal that never died. The sound of their steps was something like the sound of his raccoon being dragged across rocks.

They did not move fast; unencumbered, he could outrun them. But to do so would mean leaving his prize behind for them to tear at and eat. It might take him days to find anything else as good.

He’d fought one of these things once, months ago. They were not good fighters but they kept going and they used their paws and teeth when they got in close. One could be dispatched with quick, savvy lunges, staying out of reach of the clublike limbs. But how could he stay out of the way of many? There were more than he could keep track of easily, and though they weren’t fast, they remained close together so that in leaping out of reach of one, he might put himself in danger from another.

On top of all that, he had to guard his raccoon. He started with sharp barks, but they did not run. Humans only understood his barks about half the time anyway, and he knew these things were not human, but the barks bubbled up inside of him and had to be voiced. When they kept advancing, he leapt at the nearest one, tearing away pieces of the leg, hoping to at least cripple it.

For the first few minutes, he thought he might be able to keep them away. One went down to its knees, struggling to pull itself across the rubble. He took aim at another, but then saw that one had reached his raccoon and he ran back over the rocks that clawed at him to throw his weight at it, knocking it over. The bad smell filled his mouth but he tore at the neck, at the arms, at the legs, and the thing did not even cry out or howl, but gurgled and sputtered and flailed.

A weight landed on him, driving him down into the rubble. Stone teeth stabbed his side and leg and his foreleg twisted awkwardly. He yelped once, struggled, and then barked again. Dead flesh clawed at his sides and teeth grazed his leg. He kicked out and felt his claws sink into softness, ripping it, but still the thing did not stop.

His feet found purchase and he sprang free, but as he regained his balance, another of the creatures loomed over him. He seized the raccoon and lurched away, but rocks rolled out from under him and he tumbled backwards.

Now panic rose despite his instincts. They were all around him now, and all that saved him was that they seemed more interested in the raccoon than him. He would have to let it go if he wanted to live. He would have to. He—

A loud crash shattered the air. Shadow folded his ears back as one of the things fell across him again. But it didn’t claw or bite, just lay there.

The noise of the death-bang still echoed when the next one came, and another, and another. The bad smell filled his nose, overwhelming even the smell of his raccoon. His ears rang.

When the bangs stopped, he couldn’t hear what was going on around him, but he knew he had to get free. His hind legs pushed at the ground, scattering rocks and seeking purchase to shift the weight from over him.

A shape came into his vision: a human. Startled, he barked, and the human put a hand out. “Good boy,” it said, and then some other barks in a calm tone.

Shadow stilled, watching it. It looked up above him and tapped the side of its head. “Good <bark>,” it said. and then, “<bark bark bark bark> dog.”

The weight on him shifted. He struggled again and a voice behind him said, “Shh, good boy, wait.”

He stopped, making sure he had a good grip on his raccoon. Now the ringing in his ears faded and he heard noises around him again, several humans, barking in low voices to each other, dragging the bodies of the creatures into a pile together.

The weight came off him. He got to his feet, shook himself, and then picked up his raccoon, looking warily around at the humans. The one in front of him remained crouched. “Good boy,” it barked again, its tone remaining calm.

It didn’t reach for the raccoon, so Shadow stepped carefully to one side, waiting to see if the human would stop him or follow. He caught its scent now through the thick smell of raccoon and the receding bad smell: she was female.

She watched him pick his way over the clawed stones and to the edge of the rubble. He waited there for a moment and then kept going along his path.

They followed him, crashing and stomping their way behind him, which was a good thing in general. The noise would likely scare away anything Shadow couldn’t handle on his own. He did not want to lead them all the way back, but he couldn’t move faster than them, not burdened as he was.

So they came to his street finally and to the house with the car where the door should be and the old rubble around it. Shadow ignored the humans until they arrived at the house, and there he did not want to show them the way in, so as much as he wanted to go inside, he set down the raccoon and lay beside it, staring at them.

They barked among themselves a little, but didn’t go away. He appreciated that loyalty in them, and an instinct in him tugged gently toward that group. They had followed him and he could follow them; they had the good smell and they were good hunters. But stronger instinct and loyalty kept him lying where he was.

Scuffling movement came from the house behind him. His ears swiveled back, and then one of the people in front of him barked in alarm and pointed at the window. Another raised her death-bang as their alarmed barks grew louder.

Shadow sprang to his feet and barked: go away, get out! When they didn’t move, he ran to the window and stood in front of it facing them, and barked again.

The one with the death-bang raised it. Shadow came forward and barked again, his voice higher with panic. He couldn’t fight a death-bang but he couldn’t let them use it, either.

The human who’d crouched in front of him put her hand on the death-bang, and the other human lowered it. They all watched him, and then the human said, “Good boy,” and barked some more in a calm voice.

Shadow stayed alert, and barked again: get out!

This time, they understood. “Come on,” the first human said, but to the other humans, not to Shadow. “<bark bark> go.”

He watched as they retreated to the end of the street and turned the corner out of sight. Their smell lingered in the air. Maybe they were waiting for him. It would be good to hunt with a pack again, if they could let him bring food into the house. When he set out again, he would remember their scent.

With some difficulty, he got the raccoon up onto the car, and from there onto the small porch roof. He pushed the raccoon through the narrowly open window and then squeezed through himself.

The bed he landed on let out a puff of dust and familiar scent. He whined softly and nosed the sheet, but the scent was cold and faint.

Raccoon in his mouth, he walked down the hall to the stairs and from there down to the large room on the first floor. His hackles rose instinctively, but he went forward and dropped the raccoon on the carpet where he’d eaten so many meals in the past.

They lurched out of the shadows as he retreated to the stairs, the sound and smell of meat drawing them forward. These creatures were not as decayed as the ones that had attacked him earlier. Their clothes bore tatters and stains, but their flesh remained mostly intact.

He stayed on the landing, looking down as the figures tore into the raccoon, eating noisily, shredding it with clumsy fingers and dull teeth. Shadow’s stomach growled, but he kept still, resting his head on his front paws.

When they were done, they might be ravenous for more, but he’d fed them yesterday too, so he hoped they would be quiet. And if they were quiet, then he would go down among them and hope that they would rest their hands on him and rest beside him. When they did that, he felt their love like a flicker trapped under rubble, and he knew that the good smell would return to them one day, if only he remained on the right path.

 

* * *

About the Author

Tim Susman started a novel in college and didn’t finish one until almost twenty years later. In that time, he earned a degree in Zoology, worked with Jane Goodall, co-founded Sofawolf Press, and moved to California. Since publishing “Common and Precious,” he has attended Clarion in 2011 (arooo Narwolves!), published short stories in Apex, Lightspeed, and ROAR, among others, and recently completed his multiple award-winning Revolutionary War-era fantasy series “The Calatians.” He’s won a Coyotl Award and three Leo Literary Awards, and under the name Kyell Gold, he has published multiple novels and won several more awards for his furry fiction. You can find out more about his stories at timsusman.wordpress.com and www.kyellgold.com, and follow him on Twitter at @WriterFox. He currently lives in California with his two partners and their dog, who as far as they know has not fought any zombies, but is always ready just in case.

Now and then you’re just going to stumble across a title that grabs your attention… something like Unicorns Aren’t Horny, a new black & white manga series by Semi Ikuta. “A hilarious inter-species comedy about a modern virgin and her roommate: A virgin-loving unicorn. Emuko is a twenty-something virgin – in fact, she’s never even had a boyfriend. Her roommate, a unicorn named Uni, adores her purity, but sometimes Emuko yearns for the romance she’s been missing. And does Uni love Emuko a little too much?” Okay, color us intrigued… Look for it now from Seven Seas Entertainment.

image c. 2020 Seven Seas Entertainment

While the trailer isn’t all THAT furry the series has so many furry characters that show up and the series is a delight.   If you have not seen season 1 I can highly recommend it and season 2 hits on the 14th of December.

…also I want a twig deer-fox plush.

Hilda is back! The Fearless, free-spirited Hilda finds new friends, adventure and magical creatures when she leaves her enchanted forest home and journeys to the city. Hilda Season 2 arrives on Netflix December 14.

Hilda Season 2

Sábado, 28 de Noviembre, 2020 de Nuestro Salvador Jesucristo, Guayaquil, Ecuador-Iberoamérica (Cartas del cielo son escritas por Iván Valarezo) Happy Sabbath to everyone and may our heavenly Father continually enrich… I would like to wish you a very happy Sabbath rest with our heavenly

The Cats of Ostia Antica sounds like quite an ordinary title perhaps, but this new full-color dialogue-free graphic novel is anything but ordinary. Scripted and illustrated by Julian Brier, this hardcover book is available now from Tinto Press. “The sun sets on a seemingly normal day over the ruins of the ancient roman city of Ostia Antica. The groundskeeper tends to his duties and is kept company by the cats that inhabit the nooks and shadows of the historical site. What was once a seemingly normal dinner after work for the groundskeeper takes a turn when he loses consciousness and finds himself in a slightly skewed reality. Led by one of his feline friends, he finds himself back at the gates of Ostia Antica and what lies beyond is a resurrected city full of ghosts and ghouls of every kind, beckoning for him to join the party.” Solrad.co has a preview of several pages, which should give you a better idea what you’re in for.

image c. 2020 Tinto Press

MOOBARKFLUFF! Click here to send us a comment or message about the show!

Fluke the Husky joins us today talking about his dancing, his service in the USAF, and the pesky crown.  Can a census taker figure out ages? Is Taebyn an apologist? Are stories better than Math?  Tune in and spend some time with Bearly and Taebyn.  It is a calming respite from a crazy week!

Support the show

Thanks to all our listeners and to our staff: Bearly Normal, Rayne Raccoon, Taebyn, Cheetaro, TickTock, and Ziggy the Meme Weasel.

You can send us a message on Telegram at BFFT Chat, or via email at: bearlyfurcasting@gmail.com

Bearly Furcasting #31 - Fluke the Husky, Black Friday, Qdoba v Chipotle

I have no idea what they’re saying but I like how they say it.

International Furry Commercials

Papabear,

I have been having on-again-off-again thoughts on completely leaving the furry fandom for a couple of weeks recently.

I’ve been part of the furry community for about six years and got to know a couple good friends. I appreciated all of the good aspects the fandom has to offer during this time. However, I feel like my interests are changing as I get older, and I find myself enjoying it less and less. My trust issues started deteriorating even more because of these thoughts. I don’t want to cause any hard feelings with those friends in this fandom if I do decide to leave.

When we’re young, we think that things can last forever ... but they don’t. I know that life changes, people change, and everything changes overtime. It can be hard to accept at times, but moving on from something you no longer enjoy can be for the better.

I also am aware of the negative stigma around furries, and I stay away from all of the toxic parts of the community as much as possible. I haven’t really told people in real life about my furry-ism out of extreme fear that I might lose friends. It leads me to have serious social anxiety and me always feeling very reserved around others.

Nowadays, I honestly don’t know if I should stay in a fandom like this for the rest of my life. I’ve been part of it for so long that I don’t know how to quit. Sometimes I keep asking myself: “Do I really want to dedicate my time and energy into this any longer? Is it time to move on?”

So I ask you, Papabear: If I ever want to leave the furry community and move on with my life, how should I properly do so?

Anonymous (age 21)

* * *

Dear Reader,

There are a few ways in which the furry fandom is unique from other fandoms, and the whole "I'm leaving the fandom" thing is one of them. You never hear someone say, "I'm leaving the Whovians" or "I'm formally announcing I'm no longer a Trekker," but when it comes to furries somehow it's a big, drama-inducing deal.

So let me set your mind at ease. If you don't want to do furry stuff anymore, just stop doing it. It's only a big deal if you make it a big deal. It's not like you're leaving the mob and we're going to track you down and make you sleep with the fishes. It's just a fandom, okay?

Look, in my opinion, there are two types of people in the fandom: 1) people who call themselves furry because being furry is a part of them; it's who they are, and they can't "stop" being furry any more than you can "stop" being a Homo sapiens. It's in your genes. 2) people who got into the fandom kind of as a hobby and because it was a way to socialize with fun and crazy people, but they don't have truly fuzzy hearts. Some of them, frankly, just got into it for the porn; some got into it for the gaming; some liked the fursuits. But then they "grow up" and decide that the fandom is just childish and they have lost interest. This typically happens to hobbyists when they reach their twenties, or finish college, get a job etc. Sounds to me like you are in this second type.

I'm not trying to shame you, not at all. You're just not a dyed-in-the-wool furry. You had some fun with it, made some friends, all good. Now you're done with it (or soon will be) and ready to be an "adult" (whatever the heck that means). So, as to your question on how one gracefully bows out, well, first of all, don't make a scene. Don't make a huge dramatic announcement on the social sites that "I'm leaving the fandom." That just comes off as vain and needy. Secondly, this doesn't mean you have to lose your furry friends. I would contact all the friends with whom you have close ties and say, "Hey, I've kind of lost interest in doing furry stuff and won't be active in the fandom anymore, but I'm grateful to have you as a friend and I hope we can continue to be friends...." Make sure they have your contact information and you can talk to them on Messenger or the phone or whatever. You can then be a "furry friend" who hangs with furries but really is not one himself. This is totally doable and can be rewarding. My late husband fell into this category. My fursuit maker, Beastcub, is not a furry but simply a person who enjoys making fursuits.

So, that's how you do it. Don't be dramatic. Keep the friends you want to keep. Move on with your life, and may it be a happy one.

Hugs,
Papabear

More news from Animation World Network, this time featuring a well-known celebrity. “Iervolino Entertainment has debuted the first images from its new animated series Puffins, revealing the character ‘Johnny Puff,’ who is being voiced by star Johnny Depp. The mobile-first, short-form project was announced in June and is now in production… Puffins follows the adventures of a group of cute little birds, who work for the wily walrus Otto. The main characters of the series are five puffins: Johnny Puff, Tic and Tac, Didi and Pie. They live with a tribe of puffins in the vast and technological realm of Tana. The stories in the series will range from the bold missions of Otto, to multiple situations related to the small, fun problems of everyday life, addressing the issues of social impact in a childish way.” Now let’s see if this one winds up available in North America. [Thanks for reading — and a Happy Thanksgiving to you and your family, from ye humble ed-otter.]

image c. 2020 Iervolino Entertainment

They’re here….  Well done!

If you have never seen the original it is this scene from Poltergeist:

PokéShots: Poltergeist move

News from Animation World Network that Zodiac Kids (part of Banijay Studios in California) will be producing a new Mumfie animated series for markets in Europe. “Mumfie is a preschool comedy series based on Magic Adventures of Mumfie by Britt Allcroft (creator of Thomas & Friends and the film Thomas & The Magic Railroad). Told with heart and humor, the brand-new series features the optimistic young elephant Mumfie, who along with his best friends, Pinky the flying pig and Jelly Bean the color-changing jellyfish, are the helpful heroes of this whimsical series. As our trio embark on their daily adventures you’ll get to meet their eclectic bunch of animal friends: A cheeky crocodile who thinks he’s a king and his mischievous cat confidant; there’s a hermit crab mayor and a giraffe who runs a hotel on an iceberg; you’ll see a jolly yellow whale and a skateboarding zebra, as well as some pirate wolves and a Greek chorus of funny frogs. In this world, nothing is quite what it seems and no matter what challenges arise, no flop, failure or fiasco is unfixable for Mumfie and his friends.” As is typical for such properties, there’s no word on if this new series will be distributed in North America, but with the Internet anything is possible.

image c. 2020 Zodiac Kids

My god! It’s full of fur!

(Does fender end up as a starfox cub at some point after this?)

For reference this was found in Utah: https://bgr.com/2020/11/25/utah-monolith-tv-movie-prop/

This world is absolutely incredible and it is astonishing that it was made so quickly since the recent discovery of this object in real life. Truly amazing work.

Utah Monolith

Tugs and Nuka interview a returning guest, Charm, to discuss their non-binary gender journey. It's a fascinating and deep story that has a few unexpected twists and turns!





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Nuka goes here

Kit, Jake Fox, Nuka (Picture Pending), Ichi Okami, Taz

Fancy Supporter Tier



Rifka, the San Francisco Treat and Baldrik and Adilor

Deluxe Supporters Tier

 

Guardian Lion and Katchshi and Koru Colt (Yes, him)

Plus Tier Supporters

Skylos
Snares
Simone Parker
Ausi Kat
Chaphogriff
Lygris
Tomori Boba
Bubblewhip
GW
Moss

McRib Tier Supporters

August Otter

 
MUSIC

Opening Theme: RetroSpecter – Cloud Fields (RetroSpecter Mix). USA: Unpublished, 2018. ©2011-2018 Fur What It’s Worth. Based on Fredrik Miller – Cloud Fields (Century Mix). USA: Bandcamp, 2011. ©2011 Fur What It’s Worth. (Buy a copy here – support your fellow furs!)
Space News Music: Fredrik Miller – Orbit. USA: Bandcamp, 2013. Used with permission. (Buy a copy here – support your fellow furs!)
Patreon - The Tudor Consort, Inflammatus, Creative Commons, 2010
Closing Theme: RetroSpecter – Cloud Fields (RetroSpecter Chill Mix). USA: Unpublished, 2018. ©2011-2018 Fur What It’s Worth. Based on Fredrik Miller – Cloud Fields (Chill Out Mix). USA: Bandcamp, 2011. ©2011 Fur What It’s Worth. (Buy a copy here – support your fellow furs!) S9 Episode 3 – NB NB NB - Tugs and Nuka interview a returning guest, Charm, to discuss their non-binary gender journey. It's a fascinating and deep story that has a few unexpected twists and turns! - NOW LISTEN! SHOW NOTES SPECIAL THANKS Charm! (Our gues

As a comics fan I’ve managed to grow a much thicker skin when it comes to the regularly occurring discussion of “are comics art” or the dis”it’s kids stuff. When Allan Moore accuses comics of causing a “deliberate, self-imposed state of emotional arrest” it makes my appreciation of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic a really difficult stance to defend. What? It’s a great comic and it succeeds for exactly the same reason the now ten year old rebooted cartoon did by being bright, colourful,charming and uncomplicated in terms of real life. I know exactly what the appeal is and where it fits into my reading diet. It’s the comics equivalent of a huge,warm comforting blanket and I don’t think that’s a bad thing. It’s the warm and reassuring kind of media we’ve all retreated and relied on even more in 2020. Oh,that’s not to say that the Ponies don’t have huge adventures and even bigger problems,but there cute problems! The “Mane Six” can usually untangle any complication within an issue or two without too much bother. Although the series ended last year, the comic gallops on into season 10 straddling the line perfectly with being a great all ages read whist still appealing to the older ‘Brony’ side of the fandom without pandering to them.

Such is the creators’ confidence in My Little Pony at this stage,the new ‘season’ begins without the involvement of the regular familiar faces, instead focusing on Apple Jack, the rhyming zebra Zecora and a whole cast of new characters in her old friends. A mixture of Zebra’s, kelpies and other characters keep the comic constantly inventive with a lot more world building than is surely needed for a ‘kids comic’.

There can be no doubt that creative team over at IDW know the show inside and out but are also dyed in the wool geeks themselves as this issue begins with Zecora recalling in true D&D style an imaginary adventure she played with her old friends journeying across “The Desert of Infinity” as they cross a far more real and perilous desert. The recollection ends with the revelation she is a true DM and ended it when she “got fed up and told us we all died of heatstroke!”

Longtime FiM artist Andy Price takes up art duties on season 10 and while he has always taken cues from the show has developed a look that’s in keeping with the animation whilst being clearly distinct. A little more cartoony, his ponies emote with the best of them and appear expressive and elastic. Clean, cheerful and exuberant art that is filled with adorable background details and outstanding character design for the new additions to the gang.

Did I say it was uncomplicated earlier? Well the thread running throughout the adventure this issue is Zecora reconciling with her friends whilst realising that their will always be different perspectives to events, even if we have thought of them as immutable as she asks her former friends “If I can put our past aside, can you forgive me for my pride?” This is all before the issue delivers on the warning “there is singing in this comic” on its cover and bursts into a fullon musical number that was a Hallmark of the series on screen,translating it onto the page through Prices framing and pop culture nods to show the different styles coming into play. When Zecora appears in a very iconics yellow leather jacket it’s evident that the song has reached it’s epic stadium anthem conclusion.

Man, Animalmics was rather different this year.

ATHLETICUS is an animated TV series created by Nicolas Deveaux, the awarded director of short films “7 tonnes 3”, “5 mètres 80” and “1 mètre/heure”. Wild animals compete in athletic events: from table tennis to fixed bar, bobsleigh and curling, the animals of ATHLETICUS react according to their personality and the peculiarities of their anatomy, creating comical or poetic situations, but always offbeat. After a successful Season 1 about summer games, Season 2 started on ARTE in April 2019 and the animals are now competing in winter games!

Atheticus: The Encounter

Hello Papabear,

I recently made my own fursuit, and hey! It's not too bad! But ... where can I fursuit? I fursuited on Halloween, and it was fun. Everyone liked it! Yay! I had some other ideas. are these good?

1: Wearing it whenever we have a yard sale
2: Bday parties
3: Making funny YouTube videos
4: To friend group's Christmas parties
5: To the city park
6: On a walk.

Those are just my ideas, but I really need your advice!

;w;
Ozzy the Party Parrot (age 13)

* * *

Hi, Ozzy,

Congrats on making your first fursuit! Is it a parrot like your fursona? Neat :-)  Let's start with a look at places NOT to wear a fursuit, first. Because your face and identity are concealed, the first thing to remember is not to go traipsing into a bank or government facility because you'll be tackled by security guards! It is also not advisable to wander into a place of business with your head covered without the business owner's permission for pretty much the same reason (this is why you might see furries wearing ears and tails but not a head at a store). Now, if you inform a business owner ahead of time, and they say okay, that's fine. Public parks can be hit or miss. For example, the San Diego Furries meet and fursuit at places like Balboa Park with no problem, but I have a furiend up in the Bay Area who once got approached by police for suiting in a park there because someone reported a suspicious person. So, when it comes to parks, do a little research up front or go with a group of furries who have organized an event. I would check ahead, too, before suiting at fairs and festivals to make sure the organizers knew I was going to be there (e.g., I've been thinking of fursuiting at the Palm Springs Street Fair, but I would check with them before I did so). Wearing what is essentially a mask in public has a history of issues related to what's going on in our society. For example, the rise of terrorism has made authorities very suspicious of people concealing their faces in public places; on the other hand, with COVID around everyone has to wear a mask. Wutcha gonna do? It's confusing. So, rule of thumb: always plan ahead and make sure it's okay before you fursuit in a public place or business.

Let's move on to ideas for good places to fursuit. Besides furcons and meets, going to related activities is a great alternative. For example, a lot of furries suit at Renaissance Faires. Comic book conventions are also a sweet place, as are related cons like anything related to anime, sci-fi, and fantasy. Wearing your fursuit on Halloween is also perfect (as you found out). Of course, anything to do with fursuiting on your own property or in the homes of friends and family is absolutely fine, so that covers your ideas about yard sales, birthday parties, and Christmas parties, as well as doing anything online like making YouTube videos. Taking a "walk" in fursuit kind of depends, as noted above, as to where you are walking. If you walk around your own neighborhood, that's probably fine, and I have never heard of anyfur getting in trouble for doing that.

Thanks for your question! Happy Fursuiting!

Hugs,
Papabear​

The genesis of a community is today’s furry news. TPH (TinyPrancingHorse) asked if I could cover his humorous science fiction series that features several anthropomorphic species. I sent back an offer: Let’s see your own story that covers — (1) The content that makes the community’s backbone — (2) Proof of how it gets support like money or views —  (3) Nuts and bolts of how it got going — (4) Earned experience from doing it. I hope this inspires YOUR creation. (- Patch)

They are Smol has a main page here, and the first chapter can be found here.

What’s it about?

When people think of their favorite series – be it Star Wars to Tolkien, Discworld to Dune – there’s always a sense of mystery and nobility to how those series began. It starts with Men and Women, taking their life experiences, war stories, deep thoughts and desperate hopes, and pulling from that mysterious aether of the “could be” and bringing it into the real world.

Then there’s my series, Smol.

They are Smol was not created out of the desperation of homelessness, the pain of war, the desire to preserve culture, or any other number of excellent and moving reasons. They are Smol was created during a mental breakdown at work, where the author – on a throwaway reddit account – ended up tapping into something interesting in the human psyche.

All too often, in popular media – games, movies, books – humanity is depicted as this ascendant demigod given form, and they often have a cute sidekick character to play off of and highlight these traits. Think Rocket Raccoon, or if you’re in the Monster Hunter universe, the Palicoes. Something cute to headpat, something small to protect, yet noble in their own right.

Make our species that cute.

They are Smol simply reverses roles to consistently comedic effect, putting the reader in the position of the adorable yet terrifyingly effective sidekick. The story takes place in the near future after a disastrous first contact and the subsequent accidental invasion of Earth. Humanity is on a rapid uplift schedule. Partly because our alien neighbors feel guilty, partly because having another allied species is a boon all around, and partly because it took us something like 150,000 years to learn how to plant grain.

…look, nobody ever said we were clever. Humans, as a whole, oscillate between abject fear at the otherness of our friendly (if confusing at times) alien neighbors; and the frustration that they keep putting everything way up high on the top shelf.

Show me some metrics!

• As of writing this article, They are Smol has produced 5 books ranging between 35K – 50K words each, distributed to a 20,000+ strong readership base.
• They are Smol has also expanded, grown into a horrific megacorporation that has ~150 patrons who are generously supporting the project to the tune of $730/mo.
• This has allowed the team behind They are Smol to produce a bi-monthly podcast, a visual novel, plushies (still in the works), meme artwork and many other things.

How did it start?

As a content consumer, I’m the kind of person who binges. I enjoy taking in whole series of things, and then going back and picking them apart and turning it over in my mind – honestly, I don’t know if I was hurt by an abandoned story as a child or what, but it is what it is. I do the same thing no matter the type of content, be it Chernobyl from HBO or the entire Discworld series of books by Pratchett.

So, when I was bored one day at work (in a doomed position, no less) I stumbled back across Reddit, and more specifically their /HFY/ board – shorthand for “Humanity, Fuck Yeah!” With literally nothing else to do but count down the clock, I opened up a couple of stories and began to read.

And just didn’t stop.

We are talking dozens and dozens of individual universes. Stories that – after consuming 200K words over the span of a week or two – ended up following the same tired tropes. Mankind = best. Aliens = worst. All enemies are cardboard cutouts and we can windmill through space doing nothing special or amazing in particular. It was… boring, after a while.

When I had my mental breakdown at work, I sat down at my laptop and wanted to write the anti-story to this entire genre while still staying within the genre. Humanity, people, they’re amazing not because of what they are but because of what they can do and the choices they make. So the first chapter was cranked out in a 100% stream-of-consciousness flow, submitted with absolutely no editing or re-reading, and I went on with my lunch break.

An hour later and 900+ upvotes, it looked like there was some desire for more. Another stream-of-consciousness outpouring, zero formatting, and a fight for your right to party netted roughly 750+ more upvotes. Chapter three – 820+ upvotes.

It seemed the game was afoot.

They are Smol started to get fanart, it started to get some traction on social media, and for giggles I ended up putting together a Discord server so people who liked the story could talk to me directly. At the behest of someone in the comments section, I was told to put up a Patreon – and within it’s first few days, it shot up to $150/month.

“Oh dear.” I thought. “This is now a thing, isn’t it?”

Fan art

How is it managed?

One thing that comes with things being a thing is that you need to keep momentum going; communities will wither and die if there isn’t a steady stream of new coming in – be it new people, new content, or new fan works. As a creator, you have to carefully manage that universe you’re creating, both in your own mind as well as in reality – for your fanbase is the most important thing you have going for you.

Management is key, as you can’t fix what you don’t measure. This means walking down the decision funnel and figuring out what you can handle yourself, what needs to be automated, and what needs to be delegated (if you’re working with a team). The Decision Funnel for those who don’t know is pretty simple:

Take thing that needs to be done -> See if it can be automated. If not -> See if it can be delegated. If not -> do it yourself.

So in my posts, for example, I link to all my media, website and community locations. In all of those places, I try to automate as much content as I physically can. I explicitly tell my fans that they are welcome to make any art, music, writing, etc – any content at all – as long as I can share it with the world at large, and I stuff the meme pipelines full of fan-created works.

They are Smol is a community effort, and cannot sustain itself without the work and love of everyone involved, both officially and unofficially; so remove the friction between your fans and the work itself and everyone profits, everyone participates, and everyone gets to enjoy the thing that is now becoming a thing.

Social media calendar and more fan works.

What keeps members together?

One note on community building – you must be intentional while doing it. You have to have a community charter that your fans can see and abide by, and a second charter of higher standards for those you trust to staff and manage your community in your stead. It is the most important thing when it comes to building a fanbase that you have everyone who wants to participate acknowledge and agree to that charter, as it puts everyone on a level playing field, explains what behavior is acceptable, and sets the tone for the community at large. (See Culture Code Notes below.)

Even if you have a fanbase of a couple dozen people it’s important to create that living culture document. They are Smol has it as a prerequisite to join the community server, and in doing so it automatically vets out the people who are not interested in being good members of the community.

I can point to this community statement – both the actual laws and the cultural guidelines – as the sole reason why we are able to build a non-political community that (to my knowledge) has members of every single political party, both radical and centrist, without it devolving into a gigantic dumpster fire. The cultural guidelines are why we have a self-help/ask-for-help channel where people can go to work on their own selves, as well as get questions answered on anything from finances to art, writing to cooking. They are Smol’s community builds each other up and recognizes the inherent humanness of everyone, and because it’s baked into the charter of the community from the ground up it only magnifies and amplifies itself in a virtuous cycle.

We are smol, but getting bigger.

All these things build on each other and allow me – and my team – to focus on multiple projects at once.

I’ve been able to host multiple panels at various conventions (talking about storytelling and business practices) because I’ve been given the bandwidth to learn and grow and not deal with infighting or drama.

We have multiple writers working on side stories and new IP, partner-artists building a visual novel as well as various other goodies (such as finger puppets! What other series has official finger puppets, huh?!), and the community is encouraged to interact with us as they desire.

We would love to have you as well.

They are Smol has a main page here, and the first chapter is here. Get exclusive content on Patreon, interact on Discord, follow the newsletter or on Twitter.

Like the article? These take hard work. For more free furry news, follow on Twitter or support not-for-profit Dogpatch Press on Patreon. Want to get involved? Try these subreddits: r/furrydiscuss for news, r/furrywriters, or r/waginheaven for the best of the community. Or send guest writing here. (Content Policy.)

TigerTails Radio Season 12 Episode 49 Join the Discord Chat: https://discord.gg/SQ5QuRf For a full preview of events and for previous episodes, please visit http://www.tigertailsradio.co.uk. See website for full breakdown of song credits, which is usually updated shortly after the show. Some music provided by https://audiograb.com/u/XimerTracks Some music provided by http://spoti.fi/NCS Backing music by Sanxion7.

Whoops! With everything else going on, we kinda missed this recent Halloween offering. It’s still available though, and worth a look. Storm Kids: Stanley’s Ghost is the latest comic series from filmmaker John Carpenter’s Storm King Productions. “Oh no! Who’s been stealing fruit from all the gardens in Arbordale? Was it the prankster Chester Chipmunk? Or maybe Baby Fang? Accusations fly until someone suggests that maybe it was the Ghost of Bunnyburrow Manor! Neighbors have claimed to have seen it flying around, but are ghosts even real? And if they are, why would they be stealing fruit? Stanley Squirrel offers to lead an expedition into the house to see if it really is haunted and find out just what’s been going on. But as the gang creeps around the house looking for answers, what they find isn’t what any of them were expecting!” It’s written by Paul D. Storrie, with art by David Alvarez and a cover by Jeffe Balke.

image c. 2020 Storm King Productions