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For the trans community the world over:
I see you, I hear you, I love you.
This story is for you.
“We are at a crossroads. The purpose of this hearing—and any that may follow—is to determine what, if any, changes need to be made to the current RULES AND REGULATIONS that govern the magical community. As has been covered by the press ad nauseum, the Departments in Charge of Magical Youth and Magical Adults have recently come under heavy scrutiny. With the dissolution of Extremely Upper Management, the departments are without permanent leadership.”
Stepping off the ferry and onto the island for the first time in decades, Arthur Parnassus thought he’d burst into flames right then and there. He did not, but it was a close thing: the fire burning within him felt brighter than it had in years. He itched to break out of his skin and spread his wings, to take to the sky and feel the familiar salt-tinged wind in his feathers. But he knew if he did, chances were he’d fly away and leave this place behind forever. And that wouldn’t do. He’d come back for a reason.
The owner of the ferry—an ornery fellow with a pockmarked face, stained coveralls, and the charming name of Merle—called down to him from the railing ten feet overhead. “You better be sure about this. Once I leave, you’re stuck here. I don’t come out here after dark.”
Arthur didn’t look at the ferry operator, transfixed by the dirt road stretching out before him, winding its way into a wood with a canopy so thick the light from the midday sun barely reached the moss and leaves covering the forest floor. The sound of the sea lapping at the white sandy shores filled his ears, a reminder of his youth: the good, the bad, everything. “Thank you, Merle. Your assistance has proven invaluable.” He glanced back at the ferry. “I think I’ll be just fine. Should I need to return to the mainland, I’ll summon you.”
“How? No phones connected on the island. No electricity. No water.”
“That will change. Utilities have been scheduled to come out tomorrow morning at ten on the dot. You’ll bring them over, won’t you?”
He scowled, but Arthur saw the greedy flash in his eyes, there and gone. “Rates will fluctuate,” Merle said with a haughty sniff. “Petrol isn’t cheap, and running one person back and forth will—”
“Of course,” Arthur said. “You deserve to be appropriately compensated for your time.”
Merle blinked. “Yes, well. I suppose I do.” He looked down at the two suitcases sitting on either side of Arthur. One old, the other new. “Why’d you come here?”
Barely a cloud in the sky. The blue above matched the blue below. The tail end of summer, warm, but then he was always warm. The salt in the air tickled his nose, and he breathed it in until it filled his lungs. “Why not?”
“This is a terrible place,” Merle said with a shiver. “Haunted, or so I’ve heard. No one lives here. Hasn’t for a long time.” He spat over the side railing. “And when they did, we weren’t supposed to talk about it. Hush-hush, you know.”
“I know,” Arthur murmured. Then, raising his voice, he said, “Merle. You wouldn’t happen to know a man named Melvin, would you?”
“What? How did you—he was my father.”
“I thought as much,” Arthur said. Ouroboros. A snake eating its own tail in an infinite cycle. Maybe this was a mistake. The village they’d come from across the sea looked the same from this vantage as it had years before, buildings in pastels of pink and yellow and green, people in summer wear without a care in the world, safe, because why wouldn’t they be? They were human. The world was built for them.
The ferry was the same, though a few upgrades had been made over the years: a fresh coat of paint, new seats to replace the cracked and split ones. Even Merle did not bring a sense of dissonance, looking so much like Melvin, mouth turned down, eyes flat. It was the same. All of it was the same. Except for Arthur. “I knew him once.” You too, he almost added, remembering the glowering teenager who skulked around the ferry with a mop.
Merle grunted. “Dead now. Ten years.”
