"Hello, this is the Society for the Socially Inept and Near-Suicidally Weird, how may we help you?" echoed the cheery male voice from the phone.

"Um, hello. It's… I've called you about my… my brother."

"Please list his symptoms and any medical history or illnesses." Came the voice, still as inordinately cheery as before.

"Um, he, uh… He thinks he can see fairies."

There was a pause.

"Fairies?" echoed the voice, and there was something in it, something tiny and small and insignificant, that made the caller shiver in horrified disgust.

"… No, no. I think you mis-heard me." The caller, female and young and oh-so-very scared, began to shake. "I-I said he's… uhm, he thinks he has a fairy. He talks to it all the time. And he's begun to think he can fly."

"Thank you for your call. We shall process your symptoms and return to you as soon as we have a proper diagnosis. Have a nice day!" the voice was near manic in its joy now, and the click of a disconnected line nearly deafened the girl.

Behind her, a young voice called out to things only he could see, and a shadow darted away from her. She began to shake harder, glasses rattling and skinny body seeming too fragile to hold together.

"Oh, god." She whispered, and her eyes were the deepest of reds in the dark room that echoed with mad, childish laughter.

(One shot for fictionpress.)