Mr Edison by Lera Nikitina

“Could you please repeat what you just said, Mr Edison?
I feel like that is the exact cause of your anxiety.” A tall, gaunt man giggled and clutched his bony fingers into the handles of the chair, “I mean, you are right, in a way, ma’am. Nothing seemed right after I left the Wood.” “Give me more details, Mr Edison, darling” — not the first weirdo in Amanda’s practice — “do you mean literal wood, with the trees? How long you’ve been there? What have you done?”. Nervous giggle. “I don’t remember”. Pause. “It’s been a while.” Pause. “Of course I don’t mean the Wood. It was the Fairy”. Silence. “Explain Mr Edison, dear” — she tried again.
He wished to explain with his whole heart. But the vision of his beloved Wood started to fade, being replaced by headache. He buried the face in his hands. The red spots in the darkness of closed eyes turned to the flames. He smelled the burning pine and the salt of the sea, and also humans with black hair and black eyes. “This is certainly a disturbing failure, however…” “We are doomed. End of discussion.” “The youth. Neither patience, not attention. I am blind, but I see. Immortal Nunnehi are here. Those invaders may have the weapon and may be insidious, but the spirits are among us.” The darkness again. To say the truth, Mr Edison was not a fighter, but rather a dancer. So he danced. The drums fastened.
His bare feet touched the pine needles, laying on the ground. He circled a young human lady with feathers in her hair. That night he was fearless. He was the light itself, the owner of his land, the immortal spirit. The blood rushed in his veins. He heard the rumours here and there that his brothers and sisters have been saving poor humans from the red invaders again and again. The humans would adore him, worship him. They already have.
Mr Edison was not a fighter. To be honest, he was much more successful in hiding. The red invaders came with the morning mist. He was ready to join the fray with the humans, but those brought the thunder and the lightning. The bodies were falling from the mist. So were the screams. His land turned red. Did it surrender? He heard a bow. His partner in dance was firing arrows one by another until she drowned in her blood. Mr Edison got cold.
The mist was so tempting. One step and no one ever would manage to find him. “Welcome to the first Cherokee Fairy in America! The attraction you’ll never forget!”
Mr Edison bought a ticket. He hasn’t been there for years. Maybe he has never been there. It smelled like popcorn and cotton candy. The place was overcrowded, but Mr Edison was all alone. He had no idea why he left his office and came there in the middle of the day. He had to be here, but he couldn’t stand this place. The lights of the carousel in front of him smoothened.
Mr Edison started sobbing, hiding in his hands. “Oh dear, I’ll make you tea.”- Amanda stood up. “I will also make another appointment next Monday. Mr Edison, darling, will you come to me at six?” Mr Edison won’t come. In the end, he is not Mr Edison at all.