Claire had naturally never believed in the idea of changelings, or children stolen by fairies only to be replaced by a fey-child. One of her roommates in college had, actually, written her thesis on the subject, Claire reflected as she watched the sparkling lights gently lower a dark-haired child into the empty cradle. The idea her roommate had laid out related the issue to child estrangement issues and the possibility of the father not being who it was supposed to be; the idea of changelings gave the parents a reason to despite or distrust their child and in some situations even an excuse to leave the child in the forest if food was becoming scarce. Or, if the mother wasn’t sure who the father was and didn’t want to come into problems with her husband, the excuse of a changeling could explain why the child had dark eyes and hair when both the parents were fair and blond.

Claire’s little boy had been red-headed. His father had been a redhead, and so had Claire’s mother, and when she first saw her baby, Claire had suffered a shock of bittersweet joy. She had always loved the difference innate in a redhead, but she wouldn’t have minded not being constantly reminded of the asshole who had impregnated her and then panicked and dashed off. The child, though, was as beautiful as she could’ve wanted. He cried, yes, and was fussy, and she had some trouble getting him to feed at first, but Claire hadn’t expected mothering to be an easy business. She was struggling through this on her own, at least until her next-door neighbor came home from her vacation, so she knew to expect more than enough difficulties.

What Claire hadn’t expected, though, was to have her beautiful red-headed boy stolen by fairies. That was a ridiculous idea, she reflected, leaning on the door frame as the lights closed the window behind themselves. She waited until a few more minutes had passed, so the creatures had enough time to certainly be away, then Claire tip-toed into the baby’s room.

She had given birth thirteen days ago. Four days ago, the baby had gone. Waking up after a full night’s sleep, Claire had at first stretched languidly and smiled, hoping the baby would be able to sleep through nights like this more often. Then, when she poked her head into the baby’s room, her breath had stopped.

No whimpering, no wispy breathing, no rustling as the baby shifted.

Nothing.

She hadn’t known what to think when she finally managed to make it into the room and over the cradle. Empty. It was empty. Where did her baby go, her child, her beautiful baby? Crumpling onto the floor, Claire hadn’t been able to move for over two hours, as she rocked and cried.

Since then, Claire had wandered her small apartment, staring at the baby’s toys, clothes and food left around the rooms. She hadn’t changed out of her bathrobe, although yesterday she had made herself take a shower. Claire simply had no idea what to think or how to act next. What would she tell people? What could she tell herself? She had heard horrible stories of how babies would just die during the night, but her child had not just died; he had disappeared.

Now, four days after her beautiful red-headed baby had gone, a new dark-haired little boy was in his place. As Claire watched, her mind racing in confused and rapid circles, the baby opened his little fist and groped around in his sleep. Moving on its own, Claire’s hand reached out toward the child. Large, dark blue eyes opened as he grabbed her pointer finger. Claire knew babies couldn’t focus on objects this early on, but even so, it seemed as if he looked right into her eyes even as she gasped and started to cry, involuntarily.

Picking up the now gurgling and whimpering baby, Claire yet again fell to the ground by the cradle and cried. This time, she rocked her baby and thanked the God she wasn’t sure she believed in.

This story isn’t about Claire, though, or her fairy-child. It’s not even about the red-headed little boy that was stolen from Claire. Instead, this story is about the red-headed girl the little boy was stolen to replace.