Jaycee's Blog - Thu, Oct 21

Yesterday was my last day "under" Attitude. After the way I spoke to Naughtybelle a few weeks ago and considering our long history together, I was worried she was going to put me through some kind of sexual grinder that would make Grief's torture look like a walk in the park.

Instead, she took me to do precisely that: a walk in the park. Several walks, in fact (though they weren't all in parks). She left me alone to do my work during the day, but as soon as the clock hit 5 PM, it was time to go.

It was the same thing every day. First, she'd "order" my body to shrink to her size, which was a new experience for me. Being faerie-sized gives you a very different perspective on the world around you. First, it throws your sense of scale out of whack. Everything's HUGE and threatening. But then you feel very vulnerable (especially if you can't fly or go through objects like faeries do). Standing on the counter of my kitchen island, getting to the front door of my place wasn't a trivial decision—it was an expedition. Getting access to the food in my pantry or my fridge was downright impossible. (It's also worth mentioning that when you're standing face to face with Attitude and you're the same size, it's hard not to get your eyes stuck on her impressive chest.)

Then, at the end of each day, Attitude would fly us to the park or some public location, dragging me along like a helium balloon. She'd put some kind of spell on us so that no one would see, then we'd watch and listen to people when they thought they were all alone.

I could go on and on about what I saw and learned during the week. I could make a bullet list of each person's mini-story, but it would feel...reductive. Their stories were a mosaic of human moments—some were sad, some funny, some moving, and some disgusting. You'd be shocked about what you'd learn if you could catch the people you know in the unguarded moments of their lives. They all suffer tragedies that you know nothing about. They're all insecure about something that would make you laugh if you knew about it.

They're all human.

There was this one guy that I noticed (yesterday) because he reminded me of a bully I once knew in high school. Big guy, lumberjack beard (I mean now, not back in high school), face hidden in the shadows of his hoodie, smartphone in one hand. Sitting on a bench with his back to a wooden fence, he'd watch people go by and take the occasional picture. Attitude and I could see whose photos he was taking; no one else seemed to notice or care.

He was taking photos of children.

I instantly felt sick and turned to Attitude.

"Who's this guy?"

She shrugged. "Catholic priest."

I was silent for a long time, boiling with fury. I wanted to beat him up, but even at my regular size, that wouldn't have worked. I found myself exploring all sorts of scenarios I could come up with to stop him or cause him harm. There was nothing I could do to him. I turned to Attitude.

"Can't you do something about it?"

"Like what?" she asked. She wasn't even looking at me; her eyes stayed on the priest.

"I don't know, shrivel his dick? Fix him somehow?"

She stayed silent a long time before turning to me.

"He's not hurting anyone."

I was shocked. "He's a fucking pedophile!"

"Right. Pedophile. Not a pederast. I've watched him before. He only looks, he never touches."

I swear I'm not a violent person, but I wanted to slap Attitude across the face right there and then. Pedos are scum, full stop. There was nothing to discuss, he had to be punished. And she just sat there on the branch, next to me, talking about this like she was talking about the rain. I wanted to strangle her.

"You look like you want to hit me," she said.

"Yeah," I said hesitantly, "but that wouldn't end well."

"Should I punish you for just thinking about it?"

I realized what she meant and paused. You can't punish thought crimes, only actual crimes.

"But what if...what if he some day decides to touch some kid? It'll be too late then."

"Here's the rest of the story you don't know," Attitude said. "He lost his mother when he was six. His alcoholic no-good father raised him until he was twelve, then he was taken away by child services for physical abuse. Went into the system, got out at eighteen when he decided to become a priest."

"He's disgusting!" I said. I wasn't going to change my mind about that.

"He was never allowed to be a child," Attitude said. "But let's say I gave you a wish—anything you want, I'll do to him. What would you choose?"

That threw me in for a loop. I thought about it a long time before I spoke.

"Every time he takes a photo of a child, he gets a splitting headache."

"Are you sure?" she asked.

I hesitated then shook my head. "No."

"He knows what he's doing is wrong," she continued. "He knows he's sick. He's even approached his superiors, but they've been no help."

I eventually said I couldn't think of something to do to fix him and could I please take a rain check on that wish? She said yes and we left.

That was yesterday, like I said, and I can't stop thinking about it. Maybe you'll have some suggestions about what we could do to fix this guy. At the same time, it occurs to me that maybe magic isn't the solution to every problem.

So...help?

--Jaycee