"Another Fairy-Tale part 3, The Joy of bubbles" by Helfried ´RRJ´ Haider

Peter fumbled around to get the key into its hole. This time he hadn't gotten off with a slap on the wrist; Jeremy was going on vacation and he had wanted to make sure that Peter wouldn't forget him.
Some tears still weren't fully dried on Peter's cheeks, and the pain he experienced at the moment refused to subside. It had been a severe beating, and Peter had considered going to the police, then called himself a fool for it.
'You've been beaten up by other kids? Sure, we'll jail them!' He could hear laughing in his head again.

Wearily Peter walked into his room and slumped on the bed. Although he didn't want to, even more tears came and he couldn't stop them, no matter how hard he tried. He just was glad that his father wasn't here, who surely would be disappointed in Peter's performance today.
For a minute or two, Peter pondered to lie to his father: "Look dad, I didn't run!" but realised that it would only make the matters worse, because he would feel miserable for lying, and his father would feel miserable for giving bad advice.

After ten more minutes, Peter wearily fell asleep; this time he didn't dream, or at least he couldn't remember as a voice woke him up.
It was the muffled voice of a woman, his dad must have brought his date home while he had slept, but to Peter's wonder the voice sounded slightly panicked.
"Ok, you win! You win! I give up, but please …" There were several sobs to be heard. Peter straightened himself and walked slowly to the door to hear better, but at the moment there were only some sobs to be heard.
Peter was slightly perplexed - his father was a gentle, loving man; why was the woman crying? Maybe the date hadn't gone well, or maybe … maybe his father wanted something from the woman and she didn't …? Peter's face turned beet red at that thought, and hesitantly opened the door of his room to check the rest of the apartment.

He went to his father's bedroom first, but no one was there; neither in the living room, nor in the kitchen or anywhere else. The voice had subsided at the moment, even the TV was off and no radio was running. Maybe it had come from the window, but Peter had heard it too clearly.
With a sigh, he went back to his room; and once he was there, he heard the sobbing again. "Please? Pretty please with five lumps of sugar and two drips of honey? GET ME OUT OF HERE!"
Peter jumped at the last remark, and was baffled, because the voice could be hear inside his very own room … and since he was no idiot, he soon figured out that there were only three possible explanations: Either he was still dreaming, then it wouldn't matter anyway.
The second possibility was far worse - he was hearing things; and he didn't want to finish this particular thought.
The last possibility was somewhat off, but at the moment it seemed like the likeliest of the three: the voice belonged to whatever was in the cage he had brought with him and stuffed into his compartment.

"Where are you?" Peter said with a clear voice, feeling somewhat silly. It took a moment, then the female voice answered.
"Let me check … I am … surrounded by bars … probably at the zoo … but I am not sure … why could that be? Ahhhhhh … I think I know why!" The voice sounded really sweet and mellow at the moment, maybe whatever it was had calmed down.
Slowly Peter walked up to the bed, now very positive that the voice came from his very own bed compartment. "Why?"
"Hmmm … I guess it's because … I CAN'T SEE A THING IN THIS MUSTY, STINKY, WOODWORM-INFESTED OLD WHEREVER I AM!" The voice screeched again and Peter hesitated in pulling the compartment open, but his curiosity got the upper hand of him, and slowly he started to pull.
The light shone into the compartment where Peter had put the cage, and the voice rejoiced at the moment. "Light! Finally, finally, finally! Ugh, who are you?"
Peter had wanted to ask the same question as he stared down at the cage, in which a small figure stood by the bars, holding them.
It was a girl, probably sixteen or seventeen years old, with long, red hair, but only 6 inches tall, and with shiny, shimmering wings that were sticking out its back, flapping excitingly as the light shone on them. She was scantily dressed in a small dress that covered the bare necessities, and looked like it was made out of leaves or some similar material.
"I … am Peter Waylett … but what are you?"
The girl positioned herself, putting her hands on her hips and, smiling, said. "Well, thank you for asking, I am … wait a second, didn't you mean, WHO?"
"Errr, well, that, too - but what are you?" Peter said, slowly taking the cage out of the compartment and putting it on his bed, very carefully.
"I'll give you a hint." said the little girl sneeringly, turned around and flapped wildly with her wings. "Well, what do you think?" she asked, looking over her shoulder. "That I am a shrunk girl who spontaneously sprouted dragonfly wings?"
"You're a … fairy?" Peter couldn't believe it, although he saw it. The old man had told the truth about, well, everything. He hadn't been crazy, and now Peter was in possession of a fairy.
"Your good at guessing, Peter Waylett." The fairy said, turning around to face him again.
Peter still stared at here blatantly. "And what is your name?"
"Finally, thank you for asking! I am …" Once again, the fairy put the hand to her hips, strutting her pose, holding her head up high and slightly flapping with her wings so her long red raid had began to float slightly; the lamp on Peter's desk spontaneously turned around and switched itself on, throwing a spot on the fairy. She prolonged this dramatic pause for a second, but suddenly hesitantly looked at her arm, her wings ceasing to flap. "I am … INCREDIBLY DIRTY! Can I have some water over here, pretty please?"
Peter winced as the fairy started to scream, for someone that small, she had an incredible loud organ, and she didn't stop rampaging.
"Will you look at that? My arms are covered with dust, and my dress! Ow, my poor dress! Look at it; it's even got cobwebs on it! I can't imagine what my face must look like! Can I have a mirror? No, strike that, I don't want to see it, I must look terrible, what a way to make a first impression, Sherrymera, way to go. Ugh, I even smell like …"
"Sherrymera?" asked Peter, not sure if that was her name or if there was another invisible fairy in there, or … whatever.
"Yes?" The fairy turned to him and looked at him with big green eyes. "Anything I can help you with?"
"Your name is Sherrymera?"
"Well, I must have mentioned it, otherwise you're a real good guesser - that's my guess … would make two guessers, which leaves us guessing." She made a puzzled face.
"I'll bring you something to wash yourself with."
"Oh, goody, goody!" The fairy started hopped around in it's cage, clapping her hands in joy. "Make that a hot tub … do you know how long it's been since I had a good, hot bath? Must've been aaages, aeons!" She looked positively delighted.

Peter got up and hurried to the bathroom. He still couldn't believe it. A fairy! A real, life, fairy! And she was in his bedroom! His head was spinning, his heart was beating wildly.
He couldn't believe his own luck - suddenly his bruises didn't hurt anymore, and the lightly swollen black eye did not compromise his vision.
Peter searched frantically for some small thing he could give to his Sherrymera, his very own, small and (hesitantly admitting it to himself, blushing at the thought) incredibly beautiful fairy!
After a minute of rummaging he still could hear Sherrymera delightedly singing to herself: "Hot bath! I'm gonna get a hot bath!", but Peter couldn't find anything she would fit in.

Finally, Peter came up with a good idea, he hurried into the kitchen and opened the next drawer to fetch a coffee-cup and hurried back into the bathroom to fill it with hot water. He wondered if the cup would be big enough for Sherrymera, but as she was only six inches tall, there was a good chance. While he waited for the water to heat, he searched for some bathing accessories so he could make her a good bubble bath.
Grinning at the idea, he fetched a spoon from the kitchen, filled the cup to the rim, put some products he had found into it and stirred with a spoon until bubbles where flying around.
With the hot, good smelling cup in his hand, he came back into his room, where Sherrymera was looking delighted out of her cage. "Owwwwww! Thank you, thank you, thank you! You're so sweeeeet! You're my favourite! A baaaaaath!"

As Peter approached the cage, though, he hesitated, because he faced another problem: There was no way he could get the cup into the cage without opening it, and he could remember quite clearly, that the old peddler had told him not to open it; no matter what.
"Bring it here! Bring it here!" Sherrymera claimed excited waiting at the entrance to the cage. It was the moment that Peter smelled a trap. "How am I supposed to get it in there?"
"Well, through the door, silly." The fairy said with a smile, not looking at the cup in his hands but expectantly at the door.
"I can't open the cage." Peter said, with a slight sorry undertone - she really seemed to rejoice about the bath, now he couldn't give it to her.
"WHAT?" Sherrymera exclaimed, again in her loud, shrieking voice, but then she cleared her throat. "I mean, why not? Pretty please, I won't fly away, I'll just stay on this side of the cage …" She walked away as far as possible from the door. "… and I won't fly away. Pleeeeeeease?"
For a moment, Peter hesitated, but then he shook his head. He just couldn't - he had his own fairy now, and if he opened the cage, she would be gone. This was a trick, a test … or was it?
Sherrymera looked at him baffled, and then started to sob silently … Peter put the cup away for a moment and bowed down. "Look, I'm sorry, I know you wanted to bathe … How about we opt for a shower instead? And for the bath … I'm sure I can arrange something, maybe hand you some plates, we can build a bath for you, you can assemble the parts in there yourself …"
"But I wanted to bathe noooooooow." Sherrymera whined, and it almost broke Peter's heart, hearing her crying, her hands covering her eyes.
Peter knew this wouldn't be the best question to ask, but with a raised eyebrow, he asked. "Are you really crying?"
Sherrymera nodded, but still kept her eyes covered. "Of course I aaaaaaaaam." She let out some more sobs, but Peter wasn't sure anymore … maybe she just wanted him to pity her and open the cage.
"Well, what about the shower?" He asked, trying to sound delighted, but Sherrymera wailed on.
"It's not faaaaaaaair!"
Peter sighed; he did pity the poor thing, and she had seemed so delighted to get a bath. This was new to him; he had no idea how to deal with all this. Was it a trick, or was she really just plain sad and crying? "I'll try to come up with something if you give me an hour or so."
There had to be some way to make a makeshift bathtub that he could build her, he just had to buy some stuff.
"Noooo, don't leave me." The fairy cried, coming to the door. She put her hands on the bar and looked up at him with big eyes. "Can't you make an exception this time?" she asked; her voice sweet and soothing.
Peter bowed down to her, looked sternly at her and said: "Your cheeks are dry."
The fairy looked up at him in shock, obviously not knowing what to say, but then she stammered. "Well, we fairies … I mean there's no way you could know that … ehrm … when we weep, instead of crying tears, it … it … it rains!" Her face brightened up. "Yeah, that's it, it rains because we fairies cry … not necessarily here." She said, very fast as she saw the sunshine coming through the window. "But … somewhere, right now, it rains because I cried, yes."
"Uh-huh." Peter said, this time not believing one word of it. "Anyway, do you want a shower now or do you want me to go out and buy some things so I can make you a bathtub?
The fairy sighed, her shoulders slightly slumped. "Just bring the cup over here and put the handle through the bars."

Since this wasn't breaking the rules, this time Peter obliged and put the cup on the bed near her, very careful, because he didn't want to spill anything. At least this way she would be able to wash herself.
That was not her intent, however. As he let go of the cup, she gripped the handle with her hands, but two feet on the bars and started to pull on the cup. Peter couldn't help but laugh as he saw her efforts to bring the big cup through the bars, but looked in astonishment as it worked!
The cup seemed to be out of a rubber material all of a sudden, and with one swift motion, the cup was in the cage.
Some bubbles flew from the cup as she pulled it in there, and Sherrymera fell on her tush. For a moment the cup swayed from one side to the other, spilling some of its content to the cage floor, and it looked like it might topple over.
Hastily the fairy got to her feet again and steadied the cup, although she had slight problems as the floor of the cage was slippery. Some of the water rinsed out of the cage on Peter's bed, but he still was awestruck by the display of magic he had just witnessed. "That was cool!" he muttered, while Sherrymera finally regained control over the swaying cup and looked at it with delight.
"I really just wanted a bath." she said, with a nice smile on her lips - and to Peter's horror started to undress.
Peter quickly turned around, turning beet red, and could hear Sherrymera laughing. "Oh, how sweet and gentleman-like of you."
Flattered, Peter stared out of the window, saying nothing, until he could hear Sherrymera saying: "Okay, you can turn around, I'm decent."
Peter turned, with a smile on his lips and froze as he saw her standing naked in the cage, leaning at the cup. Blood rushed to his face and he stammered some apologies and something about "shameless" while turning around again, hearing Sherrymera's laughter as she rolled on the floor in delight at his response to her joke.