A/N: Hey everyone! So, this is a story idea I've been knocking around for a while now. This is only the prologue, but I'm interested to see what kind of reactions it'll get. Please Enjoy!

Mythology is my life. Literally. It's always been that way. Years of seeing what others couldn't and always wondering why I was the wiser. Of course, I'd learned years ago that my Sight wasn't something you just go blabbing about to random people - or any people at all. I'd learned that when I was little. I'd been seeing Them since I could walk and when I learned to talk They were usually the topic that spewed out of my little mouth. But after years of "there's nothing there," and "your eyes are just playing tricks on you," I'd pretty much shut my mouth and kept it that way.

I'm not the only one that sees Them, though. It may make me a little different, but I'm not unique to the umpteenth degree because of it. All in all, I had to have been about three or four when I'd found out that Kayde, my own cousin, could see Them too. And for a long time it was like 'our thing'. Like how some little girls like dolls, playing dress up, or pretending they were princesses; Kayde and I could fae.

Neither of us are sure where the trait comes from, or why we're the only ones in our family (that we know of) that can see them. All in all, my family is pretty normal. Nothing fae or magic-like about them. My mother is a novelist that spends a good chunk of her waking hours in her home office, writing or doing whatever it is that writers do in-between novels. Generally an eccentric women, but far from fairy tales. My father is a halfway decent businessman. That type of weekend warrior dad who spent the first few years of my life trying to pretend that he had a son, not a daughter; something he gave up on almost immediately once my annoying little snot of a brother, Remy, was born. But, by and by, just your typical American family. Nothing out of the ordinary.

You know, except for the fact that I can see things they can't.

For the first few years of it, Kayde and I just called Them, 'The People'. Which, frankly, is what they are. Some of them don't even look that different from humans, though most of them have some subtle differences; like too-large eyes, strange colored skin, height. Others don't come close to looking human at all. But no matter how they appeared, they're all dangerous.

It was Kayde who'd found out what They really were and even now I'm not really sure how. All I can remember is that summer back between sixth and seventh grade when Kayde came rushing up to me that the old wooden playground by the elementary school spurting things about old legends and dead-looking women who scream when people die. But, after a few moths of research and a lot of late nights under the covers with laptops while our folks thought we were asleep, we pretty much had the whole fae-thing down pat.

Of course, there really is no explanation to 'what is a fae?' It's too broad a term. Though, when most people hear it, they think of elves or fairies or those cute, almost creepy little garden gnomes that just kind of prance around, loving nature and would never think of hurting anyone or whatnot. But then again, those people are wrong. That's just the way it is. Fae aren't sweet little sparkly creatures that dance on mushrooms and four leaf clovers. They are tricky, sly, and generally no-so-friendly beings. Not all of them are mean, per se, but you'd be hard-pressed to find ones that dance and sing because they just love life so much. Although, if you're really trying to find one of your own free will, then you're probably a bit off your rocker yourself.

And even now, nearly five years later, I've yet to find reason to love my "gift". Especially with my Little Friend.

There are a lot of girls out there that love attention, particularly from guys. They like it when they stop and stare when they walk by, or even sometimes when they make a special effort to be at the same party or hangout spot as them at the same time. That's generally what girls think of as "cute" or "sweet". I am not one of those girls. Particularly not when it's a fae that's making that "special effort" to be near me. Or stalk me. Whichever you prefer.

Of course, I don't really think he knows I know he's there. Fae as a whole generally assume that they aren't seen, because mainly, they aren't. It's something of a good thing for those that can see them only because we don't really want Them to know that they are seen - that's just asking for trouble. But no matter how you look at it, being followed by a fae - any kind of fae - is generally a bad thing.

At first I thought he'd found out that Kayde and I had the Sight. But as the weeks went on and we realized that he cared almost nothing for Kayde yet had a creepy fascination with me, we began to think that something wasn't quite right.

Now don't go getting those dizzy ideas about some sort of unnatural, star-crossed lovers shit. Fae don't love. They care for themselves, their courts, and their land. Not humans. They don't work like that. But no matter what it is they care about, they never do anything without motive. If there isn't anything in it for them, they don't bother.

And that is what has me scared. Because after two months of knowing I can't look out my bedroom window without seeing him, nothing has changed. True, he has gotten a bit sloppy about making sure I don't know he's there, but for the most part, he hasn't show any signs for doing much of anything. There are times when I wonder if this is his way of testing me, seeing how long it takes before I blow my cover, or if he just gets some sort of sick amusement out of watching me go about my days. I even saw him reading the other day. Reading. Just sitting there under the big oak tree outside my bedroom window, just as he is now, with a book in his lap like nothing in the world was worth a bother.

"Somethin' bothering you Mae?" Kayde asked from the far side of my room, tapping the end of her pencil against the top of me desk. That click, click, click sound had become the soundtrack of my life over the last few days. Now don't get me wrong, I love Kayde and I love her passion for art, but her artist block was going to drive me insane if she didn't find something 'inspirational' soon.

"Just antsy," I said, trying to keep my voice even and ignore the annoying sound, choosing instead to play with the cord of my blinds. If I closed my blinds, would he notice? Would he look? I had to shake my head to keep myself from thinking stupid things. What would he care if I closed my blinds? Why would that seem suspicious at all to him?

Without looking at her, I could hear Kayde sign, probably donning the same I-know-you-better-than-that look I'd been getting over the last week. I was glad that she could understand my anxiety to some extent, though probably not accurately. But the compassion was there nonetheless.

"Do you think he'll follow us?" I asked. This was getting ridiculous. Over the last week my lips have become chapped from the number of times I've bitten them. But I couldn't help it, it was a nervous habit and I was definitely nervous. Though I'd never admit just how much out loud. Because, in complete honesty, he scared the crap out of me.

Kayde's pencil stopped clicking and I knew she was thinking about it too. It was something I knew both of us had wondered at some point or another, but with our trip coming up so soon now, it was something we really needed to consider. We needed to be prepared.

"I don't….think so?" she said, biting her own lip. I rolled my eyes and shifted to look at her from where I sat on my bed. "Maybe?"

"Are you asking me or telling me, Kay? 'Cause I'd really like to know." I said, a

little snappier than I'd wanted to.

Over the last couple days, Kayde and my Aunt Lisa had been staying we my family. We did this every summer. For as long as I can remember, the six of us have spent every first week of August up in woodsy old Andover, Maine. It was one of those, my-dad-has-a-college-friend-with-big-money sort of deals. Although, by looking at the place, you'd never know there was much money in it. The buildings had to be at least a hundred years old each, with little upgrades and fixes here and there. There still wasn't any indoor pluming outside of the kitchen sink and the only electricity was all focused on the small, 1950's refrigerator. But no matter the out-dated the style, we still loved it. A big-sized place in the middle of nowhere. Literally. No road, no highways, and barely a trail through the woods to follow. With the way it was, sitting in among the tall pines and rocks on the shore of Lower Richardson Lake, the only way to get there was by boat. But that's where it held its charm. No traffic, no excess noise, no nothing. Just the woods and the quiet and the sounds of loons calling in the early morning and at night.


And that's what has me the most worried. It would be so easy for him to follow us. Out of the city and civilization all together. We would be walking right strait into his playing field, sitting ducks. I might as well go outside right now, at two-thirty in the morning and introduce myself. Hi, I'm Maebell Maire NicSide, but you can call me Mae. What's your name?

And that, would be just plain stupid.

Anyone interested? Review!