Rejected Mercy

Sometimes, you are at your lowest point when you smile the brightest. You lose all meaning in your life despite everything working out for you.

A job you love. Friends you had since childhood stick with you. You have no right to feel sad.

And yet I did.

The kid’s health show I hosted was going well. The view count was growing every month. I was occasionally even recognised on the street. A small celebrity, you could say.

From the outside, nothing had changed since a big media corporation had taken over my show. I still taught children how their bodies functioned in a way they could relate to. How evil viruses were on the prowl, how the conquering army of sugar wanted to break through their enamel castle wall, and how eating fruits and vegetables made their superhero immune system stronger.

But what I feared the most had happened: episode by episode, my show lost its soul. The new managers gradually took over the scripts, changed designs of recurring characters “to appeal to the masses”, and dumbed down the narrative.

Gone was the originality and creativity of each episode. Gone were the episodes where I tried something new or built an interconnected story lasting throughout a season. Gone, even, were the little easter eggs I put in to keep the adults engaged.

Instead, I had to reference current trends, no matter how lame. Each episode was built on the same structure. I couldn’t take risks, and I wasn’t allowed to go deeper than surface-level on any topic.

“Kids are dumb. They don’t care about anything but the cool action figure their parents are gonna buy.” Of course, they didn’t say that, but I knew this was what they thought.

And, of course, the merchandising. The show’s budget got cut, but this stupid, greedy merchandise made record profits!

I made the show to teach children, not to steal their parent’s money!

But it was what it was. More children knew my characters and my songs. My show was getting mentioned in more social media posts than I could count. And, I guess, more children would learn to take care of their health.

If only it mattered to me. If only the heart and soul I had put in the show hadn't been erased.

So I officially announced there'd be a new host at the end of the season, and I left my show behind forever.

Before I created my show, I had studied dentistry, but dropped out when my first episodes became a minor success. Now that I had quit my show, I decided to return to that field again.

And, of course, I needed a job. I had some contacts that could get me in as a dentists' assistant—it was as far as I could get with my education, and didn't pay much, but it was enough for the meantime.

I should’ve expected to get recognised a lot.

“You’re Aurora!” a little girl said, jumping excitedly and clapping her hands, before freezing suddenly. “Why did you leave?”

That question. Of course I had no simple answer to give to a child. Well, I could have been honest, but I didn't want to ruin it for her.

So I smiled, and told her, “I taught you everything I knew, now I need to learn even more. You too should always be excited to learn new things!”

But it was a beautiful lie. Hopefully, it might even inspire her to be as curious as I was.

I remember to this day how I lost my first tooth. Back then, my mother told me about the tooth fairy and how, if I put my tooth under my pillow, she would exchange it for money.

Despite being excited for a literal fairy tale (let alone the money), I developed a fascination with teeth. I would imagine how my baby teeth would fall out, one by one, to make space for my adult teeth—and how these adult teeth would remain for the rest of my life…

It was scary. There would be no second chances anymore. Once an adult tooth grew in, no more would grow to replace it.

So ever since I made sure that my teeth were as healthy as possible, like brushing my teeth half an hour after every meal (not immediately after, as the enamel is weakened and could be damaged). It was at times a little unusual, like rejecting certain food and drinks, but, well, today’s food wasn’t good for your teeth anyway.

Of course, every child is different. A boy had a loose tooth and had to get it pulled, but he refused to let it happen by any means. Kicked and screamed and did anything to keep his loose tooth, and not even his mother could persuade him .

So I tried it myself.

“Hey, Cloud,” I greeted him with a soft voice. “How are you doing?”

“No!” He covered his mouth with his hands. “I won’t allow it!”

I smiled. “But I’m not gonna pull your teeth out. Pinkie promise!”

After staring at me with furrowed eyebrows, he at last calmed down and lowered his hands. “I’m scared.”

He was that honest with me? He must have trusted me more than I expected, which would be very helpful.

“Everyone is. But do you know why your tooth is loose?”

He sighed. “To make room for a new one.”

At least his parents had explained that part to him, so I didn’t have to.

“Exactly! But there’s more to it. You see, once you grow up, your teeth will face even more dangerous creatures that want to attack them.” I showed him a sketch of two creatures. “These are evil robber bands of bacteria, and these are dangerous acidic slime monsters. All they want is to make a hole in the walls of your teeth, called enamel, so they can hide out and steal more food.”

I revealed my second drawing, where these creatures rammed into a wall shaped like a tooth. He nodded, mesmerised by my drawings.

“But once you grow, your teeth become too small, while these monsters become more dangerous. That’s why your body is smart and is building even bigger teeth!”

I changed to a drawing of a bigger tooth wall that easily withheld the monster’s attacks. His eyes were glowing with excitement, with no sign of any fear anymore.

“Imagine your teeth fighting against them every day. Whenever you eat, they attack relentlessly! But your teeth are brave and courageous, fighting to never let them win!”

“So awesome!” He took my drawing. “Look, mum, my teeth are so great!”

I took his hands and looked him in his eyes. “See this bravery? Your body is daring these monsters to attack it. Do them a favour and be courageous too. Be a warrior. Allow your walls to be firm and steady, so your body has an easy time fighting them off.”

He bit his lip. There was still some reluctance and a flash of returning fear, but with a deep breath, he closed his eyes and slowly nodded.

“Thank you,” his mother said at the reception. “He never let his tooth get pulled before.”

“It’s nothing,” I replied, and turned to the boy. “And you were a great warrior!”

He grinned widely and showed me his pulled tooth. “And it only hurt a little! See?”

“Nice! And will you put it under your pillow for the tooth fairy?”

His mother flinched, waving her hand in rejection. Fear was written in her face.

“What’s the tooth fairy?” the boy asked.

“Nothing!” his mother intervened and took him by his hand. “We, um, need to go right now, we’re late!”

With that, she turned to the door to leave.

I knew what was up. While one shouldn’t judge a person by their outfit, I could tell that they were poor. And it was a parent’s right to decide whether to tell a fairy tale story to their child or not. But I remembered my excitement and awe, my happiness and pride when I found money under my pillow.

And I wanted to share that same wonder.

“Um, Ms Rain, I still need you to leave a signature. Just a formality. It’s very quick.”

She sighed and came back to me. “Alright, where?”

I pretended to search through papers while taking out my purse, then pulled out a few notes and placed them—where she could see—between two sheets of paper.

“It’s for him,” I said. “For next time he loses a tooth.”

“But… No, I can’t! It’s—”

“It’s a reward for his bravery,” I demanded, then whispered, “Take it before anyone catches me.”

Before she could object, I winked and left her alone.

In hindsight, I realised that I maybe shouldn’t have done it. She could’ve had more children who would also expect a tooth fairy to appear, or she just didn’t want to lie to him, despite my insistence.

However, it felt right at the moment. I didn’t doubt my decision, nor had I any fear that my financial sacrifice would be in vain. Surprisingly, I even felt encouraged to do it, like an invisible force that pushed me in the right direction.

But most importantly, it made me happy—even if for a short moment.

Curiosity killed the cat. In my case, it was watching the first episode of the new season without me in it.

I cried. The new host, the writers, the production—everything was wrong, colourless, soulless. Deep characterisation? Just the most balant stereotypes! Teaching children something new? Their information was so dull that even a child would be able to teach them more!

I had left my show. Its chapter with me was closed, and I knew this was going to happen.

But it pained me so much. My creations still had a place in my heart. I had put my blood, sweat and tears into this show. And everything had died, leaving behind nothing but a shadow of what used to be.

What hurt me the most, though, was how it insulted the audience. Children were not dumb! They knew when a character wasn't a character anymore! They knew when the writers were lazy! They knew…

I couldn’t take it anymore. I put on my winter jacket and stormed out of my apartment.

It didn’t matter that it was late at night, nor that the streets were covered in snow. I had to walk out my anger. If I didn’t, I would’ve gone straight to the studio and strangled everyone in there with my bare hands, one by one. Even if I would get a life sentence out of it, it would be a good deed done for the children.

They deserved better, for crying out loud!

And the latter I did. I cried. I screamed. I cursed out each person in the studio with the worst insults I knew and had never dared to say with my mouth before.

Luckily, no one seemed to be outside—or anyone around had hidden from me, which would be understandable.

But it helped. Little by little. My throat went sore from that much shouting, but by then I had calmed down.

If only I could help children again. If only I could fascinate them, encourage them to learn about their bodies. I didn’t care how. Maybe dentistry was a start. After all, I was able to encourage Cloud to let his tooth get pulled. I could make a small book for the waiting room. Or a puppet show.

‘Or be their tooth fairy.’

That would be nice. I was, technically, a tooth fairy for Cloud. Oh, to imagine the children’s excitement when they would get a gift from me! Instead of fearing the loss of a tooth, they'd be happy for getting a new one!

I blinked. Had I just considered becoming a tooth fairy? Was I going crazy? Had they finally made me lose my mind?

‘Aurora, look up.’

And I did. Up there in the sky was the full moon, watching me with a smile…

Why did I think that?

‘You can become their Tooth Fairy.’

This was it. I seriously thought the moon was talking to me.

‘No, Aurora, this is real. We’re speaking to you.’

Or was I dreaming? Hopefully, this night was just an awful nightmare and I had dreamed this whole episode.

‘We have the power to make you into one.’

I watched the moon, taking in what it just said to me. Me, an actual tooth fairy? But I thought that this was just a fairy tale!

However, I was talking to the moon right now, so unless I really had lost my mind, this might actually be possible.

‘Do you accept this role?’

Somehow, I took this question dead serious. Somehow, I knew that this would decide my whole future. Somehow, I knew that if I accepted the role of a tooth fairy there would be no turning back.

I hesitated. What would it be like? How would I affect my life? What sacrifices would I have to make for it? How much of me, Aurora, would still remain?

And then I remembered how happy I felt when I became a tooth fairy for Cloud. How happy would I be becoming a tooth fairy for thousands, no, millions of children?

That was what I wanted!

“I do!” I said to the moon.

And for the first time, I knew what flying felt like.