A Visit from the Tooth Fairy

Reading Time: 2 minutes

You probably thought we were square back when you lost your first set, huh?

I’m not like those other tooth fairies—happy with 20 cute little milk teeth then moving on. I mean, sure, I’ll take those too. A fairy can never have too many teeth, y’know?

There was something special about yours, though. Cutest baby teeth I ever saw. You always listened to Mommy and brushed for two minutes. A real sound sleeper too. I’d jostle you sometimes reaching under your pillow. But you’d just snore away, your mouth slowly filling with shiny permanent ones. I could’ve reached out and plucked them like juicy grapes.

The night I collected your last baby tooth nearly broke me.

I moved on. Found other kids and other teeth. But it was never quite the same. Sometimes, I’d take out the case with yours—just for a taste—and wonder if you took good care of the new ones. That was enough for me … for a while.

Until I found this loophole.

Now I’m with you for the long haul. I want your rotten ones, sharp ones, cracked and broken, long as an elephant’s tusks.

See, I’ve been milking your stress dreams for ages—lurking in the shadows, just out of sight. That movement you think you see in the corner of your eye each night? That’s me.

I’m watching when you feel the first one come loose. Hah! You should see yourself when your mouth starts filling up. Eyes as big as saucers, struggling to hold them in your mouth, rattling around like maracas. Well, I guess you do see yourself. Staring in the mirror like a dope and choking when they start to slip down your throat. When you finally let ’em out, clattering into the sink—that’s the sweet sound of payday, baby.

Hundreds tumble out some nights, wet with spit and tears. Blood if I’m lucky.

Or maybe they grow impossibly long first. Growing and growing until they stab through your lips and nostrils, stitching your mouth shut when you try to scream.

Either way, once they fall out, they’re mine.

Did you really think this is the first time you’ve caught me in your nightmares? Hah! I’ve lost track of how many times you’ve ripped my wings off over the years. See this scar? That’s where you stabbed me with one of your own teeth. One of the long ones. You broke it on the sink, like a barroom brawler, brandished it like a broken beer bottle. I took that one home and framed it. Still has some of my blood on the jagged parts. My friend, you are one sick, violent puppy in your dreams. That’s why I keep coming back.

Best part is, you’ll forget all about our little chat once you wake up. But I’ll be back, good as new. Just gotta swing by a few kids’ beds, pick up some supplies. A few ground-up molars mixed with one of your special dream teeth, sprinkle that in your snoring mouth … and I’ll be harvesting another sackful tomorrow night. And nowadays, I don’t even have to pay you for ’em.

LL Garland enjoys gaming, writing speculative fiction, and exploring deep, dark woods. She’s been called “disturbingly competitive” at all three. She lives in a house with three dogs and two libraries - a fancy one for show, and a hidden one for the weird stuff. You can find more of her stories on her website, llgarland.com.