Tag Archives: fantasy

Here Comes A Caavy, A Mønster!

Tandfe, created by Christina Mølhom

Tandfe, created by Christina Mølhom

The caavy, commonly known and often mistaken as a tooth fairy, lives in the mouths of human beings, finding nourishment from small chunks of tooth (usually slathered in sugar) that they dig out using their small claws, of which they have one on each hand. Caavies are known for violent territoriality and an obsession with sugar.

Tandfe awoke from his slumber and emerged from behind the tonsil, stretching his arms as far as they would go and performing his evening breathing exercises. He knew from the breathing patterns of his host that it was asleep and the growl of Tandfe’s stomach reminded him it was time to eat. He sharpened the single claw on each hand against his pointy teeth and climbed up the soft cave to the mouth of his home.

Tonight would be a feast! Once again Tandfe’s host skipped the evening cleaning ritual of his oral cavity that it’s parental figure was always complaining about (Tandfe often woke up early enough to see his host simply wet his cleaning utensil, called a ‘toothbrush’, under a faucet and then place it on the counter). Tonight there was sugar a-plenty covering the chewing mechanisms that he feasted upon every evening. He smiled, showing off his full set of incisors as he scraped a tiny piece of enamel off a nearby tooth, tasted it and smiled with delight.

He scraped a bit more and sat down to reminisce, as he always did over dinner. He remembered growing up in the piles of crystallized sugar, being hatched and raised by his mama. He was taught to fend for himself and then was whisked off on a stick when the sugar was made into rock candy. Tandfe ended up going from there to this child’s mouth, where he made his home.

He got up and walked over to the nearest tooth and cut another chunk out, noticing that this one was starting to turn a little black around the edges. He knew this meant to leave it alone, or that horrible human they called dentist would come with all of the loud machinery and scraping tools, forcing Tandfe into hiding in that dark smelly spot to the south of the tonsil.

He also noticed another tooth was loose, and knew to dig into that one as much as possible. Humans, unlike caavies, lost some of their teeth as children; it wouldn’t matter how much he ate, so he attacked it. Soon, it would fall out, and he would eat the whole tooth in a night. He always loved those nights, stealing the baby tooth from under his host’s pillow – the only downside being that he had no pockets and always lost any loose change he was carrying.

As he reminisced and planned for his next out-of-body adventure, he noticed the breathing patterns of the host start to change, and knew it was time to go back into hiding, so he jumped up, scraped a little more food and shoved it into his mouth.  He ran back to the tonsil, climbing back up into his hiding place and closing his eyes for another day of rest.

Artwork by the amazing Christina Mølholm, whose blog can be seen here.


The Wish of the Wooden Man (A Flash Fiction Fantasy)

I sat at my art desk drawing a wooden model man.  I had him posed as if he were frozen, mid-air, while skipping down the road.  One arm flailed towards the heavens, the other reached out as if it would make him land an inch farther, both of his legs stretched as if jumping a hurdle.

That’s when I heard the voice.  “Why?”  It was calm, quiet, mysterious and yet manly.  Almost whispered, with a childlike tone.

I looked around, confused.

“All I want is to be positioned naturally, just once.”

I strained my ears, listening for the source.  It sounded as if it were right in front of me, coming from the wooden man, and yet, it also seemed to come from deep inside of me as well.

“What do you mean?”  I asked, prying more words so as to detect the source.

“You always position me in unnatural poses.  Jumping, dancing, walking, but never how a real person would jump, dance or walk.  Always different from a human.”

It was definitely coming from the wooden man.

“It’s the part you play, my friend,” I said to him, turning the invisible face towards me so I could see if there were any visible changes.

“I just want to look human.  I’m supposed to represent one.  Why make me stand so many ways, and yet none of them make me feel more like you?”

“So what, I should sit you on the couch in front of the tv?  Should I put you to sleep at night, under the covers?”

“You’re mocking me.  All I want is to be like you.  And you mock me.”

I turned him away from me a bit.

“I guess I never thought of you as a sentient being before.  How was I to know this was what you wanted?”

“You should have known.  You should have guessed.”

“Well, I apologize.  How would you like to be posed?  Your wish is granted.  Tell me.”

The wooden statue failed to respond, trying to decide, I assumed.  I picked him up so he knew I was serious.  Finally he responded.

“Sitting in a chair.  That’s what I would like.”

“Should I put you on an actual chair, or just position you as if you were sitting on one.”

“Those chairs are much too big for me.  So I guess just a pretend chair.”

I picked him up and bent his legs, his back, his arms, and granted his wish.