Life On the Beach of Faery

Prompt: Write a 1,000 word story in the fairy tale genre. It’s about a penniless writer and should include expired food. Also, use the sentence ‘Life was better on the other side.’ Bonus prompt: Your character is shipwrecked.


A gentle rocking motion awakened George. He’d been having the most interesting dream. In it he’d won a free passage on a cruise ship into the land of Faery, all expenses paid. Of course he jumped at the chance. What writer wouldn’t? He was down to his last penny and had just been told again that his stories lacked originality. A trip into Faery would create enough fuel for stories to last a lifetime.

The rocking continued and with a frown he struggled to open his eyes, and immediately wished he hadn’t. It hadn’t been a dream at all. He was half in, half out of the water on some beach, clutching a white and red life preserver ring.

“In or out,” a squeaky voice told him.

George peered blearily around. “What?”

“Either go back into the water or come all the way out. You can’t just hang about like this.”

“Who—who are you?”

“I’m Tilly.” The owner of the voice stepped close enough for him to see her. She was tiny and green and naked, with gossamer wings fluttering behind her. “This is my section of beach and I don’t tolerate in-betweeners.”

“I apologize,” George told her. “I didn’t mean to trespass. I guess I’m shipwrecked.”

“Makes no difference,” Tilly said with a sniff. “You can’t stay here, go find your own section of beach.”

With a great effort of will, George managed to lever himself up out of the water. He stood, swaying slightly, and looked around.

The white sand beach stretched in both directions, sometimes wide sometimes narrow, sometimes strewn with black rock. It was bordered by the deep aqua ocean on one side, and a variety of trees on the other. Aware of Tilly’s glare as she stood, hands fisted on her hips, George stumbled away along the shore, leaving the ring behind.

“Humans!” she snorted derisively after him.

He passed a goblin, a troll, and two dwarves before he saw another human.

“Hey!” the man called, waving from the tree line. Dropping his armload of coconuts he started towards George.

George halted, too tired and discouraged to even meet him halfway. No amount of stories was worth what he was going through. All he wanted was a good cup of tea before he curled up for a nap.

“You must be new here,” the man said. He extended his hand. “I’m Tim.”

“George, George Beaumont.”

“It’s a real pleasure to meet you George,” Tim said as they shook hands. “C’mon up and join me for breakfast.”

With nothing better to do, George followed him into the trees to the camp set up there. They feasted on coconut meat washed down with coconut milk.

“How long have you been here?” George asked.

Tim shrugged. “A year, two maybe. I fell through a magic portal. How about you?”

“I won a cruise to Faery. We’d hardly passed through the barrier when the storm hit. I got swept overboard and ended up here. I’ve got a vague recollection of some mermaids . . .”

“You got lucky. I try and stay away from the merfolk – they’re as likely to drown you as to help you.”

George looked around, taking in the crude shelter, the canopy of trees sheltering them from the sun, the sound of water – a creek or a waterfall – coming from nearby.

“So this is it?” he asked. “Just find a place to hunker down and wait to be rescued?”

“Don’t hold your breath waiting for rescue,” Tim advised. “Getting into Faery is easy, getting out again? Not so much.”

George stared at him. “But the cruise…”

Tim shrugged. “Maybe if you’d stayed on the ship you might have had a chance, but they’re not going to search for a mere human.”

George had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach but he didn’t think Tim was lying.

“I’m sorry,” Tim said sincerely. “You can stay here with me if you like, at least we’ll have each other to talk to.”

“Thank you,” George said numbly. “I appreciate it.”

“Life was better on the other side,” Tim told him, “A lot better. I can tell you that.”

Over the next few weeks Tim showed George the ins and outs of life on the beach of Faery. George learned how to tell a ripe coconut from an unripe one, and how to shimmy up a tree to knock them down. He learned how to avoid the nymphs when he went to fetch water from the small waterfall nearby. And he spent a great deal of time searching their small section of beach for useful flotsam.

One morning George wandered down to the beach in time to see one of the dwarves from the next section trying to drag a crate off.

“Hey! Get away from that!” George shouted, running towards him. “That’s ours!”

Dropping the end of the crate, the dwarf waddled away as fast as he could, muttering obscenities. The crate was unmarked, but heavy. George carried it up to the campsite and pried off the lid. Tim came up to find him staring worshipfully at the contents.

“Must have been another storm at sea,” Tim said. “What’ve you got there?”

“Food,” George said. “Glorious food!”

Tim was a little less excited. “I don’t want to burst your bubble, but if this food came from Faery there’s probably a price attached, or a trick to it. The Faery love to play pranks.”

“Just look at this,” George said, holding out a can of peaches.

Taking the can from him, Tim looked at the label and then sent George a pitying glance. “Did you read this?”

George shook his head.

“This can expired more than a year ago,” Tim said gently.

“I don’t care,” George said mutinously. “I’m willing to take a chance for a taste of something that’s not coconut!”

“Sure, buddy, sure. Just calm down. Only one problem,” Tim told him.

George just looked at him.

“We don’t have a can opener.”