The Death of Mr. Faerie

What is that?! Sandra woke up on Sunday morning to find her cat had killed and dragged in another dead animal.
What in the world… She bent down to get a closer look at the mangled and winged body, and her eyes widened.
“George! Get in Here! Oh, my God!” She saw the face, and then saw the little shoes.
“George!”
Her husband rushed into the room, his face half-lathered in shaving cream.
“What?” What?! Where’s the fire?” He looked down at the body. “Benny got another one, huh? Ugh. What a mess!”
Sandra looked up at him. “No, honey. Look!” She pointed at the little face, at the shoes.
“Why that’s a strange looking bird! Or is it some sort of insect? Looks like a moth or butterfly with those wings.”
“Honey, it has a human face! It’s wearing clothes!”
“I don’t have my glasses on dear, but what you are saying is impossible. Calm down, let me throw it in the trash.”
“Just look!”
“Oh jeez.” George gave a big sigh. “Let me go get my glasses.”

He went back into the bathroom, and Sandra gave the creature another look and then glanced at her cat. Benny ignored her and was cleaning his bloodied paws. She felt she would be sick.
“You think I should call the police?” She said softly, mostly to herself.
George came back into the room now adorned with glasses and with the shaving cream gone. ”Hmm?”
“Oh, nothing…just look please. I feel like I’m losing my mind.”
George looked, and then looked again. He turned pale and then took a deep breath. “It looks like its neck was broken,” he said softly. “And one of his, I mean its legs was torn off. He stood up suddenly and said. “I’m throwing this in the trash.”
Sandra was on the other side of the room holding her arms folded across her body.
‘But George, WHAT IS IT?!”
“It doesn’t matter what it was,” He stressed ‘was’. “It is dead now.”
“Do you think we should call the police?” Or the news, she almost added. But who wants the attention?
“Honey, if we call the police with the story that our cat dragged in some tiny little winged man, they will only call the men in the white coats. Or worse, they will take us seriously and call in scientists to investigate or the media.” Here he shivered. “No, it is best we destroy all evidence, and forget all this.”

Sandra looked at their cat. He was an orange half-feral tabby and looked a lot like that cat Morris from those old cat food commercials, except her cat was leaner and more solidly built-like a tank. She had found him in a nearby park. He was thin, but looked happy enough rolling around in the grass. She got it in her mind to rescue him though and brought him home. And he has proven to be the most unusual animal. He loved the rain and rolling in mud. He often would guard her while she slept. And though he has dragged in some unusual critters before, this absolutely took the cake. She didn’t know she even had crawfish in her yard, until he dragged one in with its pincers removed. She had thought he had brought in some alien or baby Cthulhu and the old ones had arrived. Sandra was highly imaginative. She could have blamed her imagination on Mr. Faerie-as she was now calling the strange creature-but her husband had seen it too. She suddenly felt very tired, and wanted to go lie down.
“You do what needs to be done dear.” She said to her husband, and then went into their bedroom to hopefully go back to sleep and pretend the whole matter was some strange nightmare.

George looked down at the little body. It was only the size of a sparrow, but had the wings of a butterfly. The wings were very long and thin and iridescent. He thought they were merely white, but at a different angle shone in a multitude of hues like a rainbow. The creatures face was like a human's, but twisted in such a tortured expression it was hard to make out the features. The hair was blond and cut short. The clothes were all bloodied and appeared to be made from plants. The neck was broken and the head hung limply when he lifted the creature from the carpet. There was a blood stain below him.
“Oh, damn,” he said softly and began to cry a little. “What is this?”

Sandra couldn’t fall back asleep. She thought of her cat instead of the creature. She once entertained the idea that her cat was some strange agent that protected her family from ghouls and beasties and things that go bump in the night. He had a strange, wise ancient look in his eyes. He never meowed. And she lost count of how many animals he has brought in-many unusual-that she couldn’t name. She still is not sure if that was a crawfish that time or not, or that strange lizard that one time, like a mini Komodo dragon. Plus, she has the most unusual dreams when he is around. He speaks to her in dreams, but she never can remember what message he is trying to convey. And when she would wake, he would be right there staring at her with knowing eyes.

Suddenly, she sat up in bed with a jolt. What if there are others? My goodness, how many of those things are out there?! She got out of bed, and rushed to find her husband. She found him outside just closing the lid on their garbage can outside. “George! George, what if there are more! What if they come looking for their friend?” She looked for Benny, and found him at the back sliding doors. He was staring outside, looking at something in the sky. Oh, I hope he is watching birds, she thought.