Short Story: A Goblin Tale

[milo]

I was still young the night my brother was taken. It was many years ago, but the memory is as fresh as the smell of the dried oak leaves on the breeze. Chandra called us into the living room for story time and Luke, Mary and I gathered and quietly seated ourselves on the floor around where she was sitting in rotund majesty in the old rocking chair; little Bobby perched on her knee. She was a big nigger woman that scrubbed the floors ‘til they glowed yellow. She carried a handful of polished pigeon bones in her starched apron pocket. This was during the years before father passed entirely from this world but lived instead like a shade at the edges of our world, only occasionally stepping out of the whiskey glass refuge of his study. Mother spent most of her days in bed during that time, not sleeping really, but laying in the great bed with the blinds drawn, suffering through her existence in the thick Louisiana heat.

We sat in reverent quiet during story time as Chandra told tales of the ancient people who still lived among us as gnarled trees or of zhomba bats who steal children away to their caves to feed on their souls or of the demon sprites that passed their mischief where the forest broke in the light of the moon. But that night she spoke of the goblin kings. First she spoke of Fruelagh and Braagh, the jealous twins. She spoke of Grollen and his dog, the slobbering hellhound that bore him. But the name she whispered was one-eyed Nick’s.

Old One-Eye, she said would choose a child just as the night seeped down to the roots of the earth and he would sneak into their bed chamber through the window. He brought with him three demons and each of the three carried a fiddle. He would wake the child, she said in a hush, and ask them a riddle. They were allowed three chances - after each one, Nick would pound his linden staff to the floor. She chanted:

“and if the child answered right
old Nick was banished for the night
off to hang by dread-locked hair
in Kindra, the ancient dragon’s lair”

Then she paused and pushed back with her bulging calves to reposition her girth with a groan from the old rocker and she tilted back her head and closed her eyes for a moment and let a slow sigh escape like dust from an old bassoon.

“but if the child answered wrong
Nick stole them off in demon-song
to goblin mines to slave away
pounding rock ‘til the final day.
The overseer, a ruthless master
whipped them raw to urge them faster”

Luke and Mary burst out with impish giggles to hear such nonsense. I wasn’t really sure, but I laughed along nervously, hoping they didn't sense the hesitation. But Bobby, I could see the wide fear in his eyes. I knew he wouldn’t sleep that night. Chandra pretended not to notice his discomfort as she lumbered off the chair with him in the crook of her arm and moved up the stairs with a surprising grace to put him to bed. I went to wash up with Mary and Luke and headed up myself, passing Bobby’s door on the way to my own. I thought I saw glint of tiny bones hanging by human hair above his door as I skipped double-step past.

It felt like I had just sunk into a confused dream of dust and coal when I awoke to the rustling sounds of something climbing up the side of the house. I felt the chirp of panic try to escape but I clamped my teeth and bit it back. I have told many times of the sounds I heard that night: First, the subtle lilt of rhymes, backed by the discordant chitin of a bow drawn angrily across the bone of a fiddle. Then, the unmistakable certainty of a staff’s thump on the wooden floor. Then, again, the fiddles that sounded so much like beetles' shells scraping against each other. And again, the thump of a staff. I could hear the goblin's harsh giggle at poor Bobby’s ineptitude with riddles.

To the end of my days I will here the resounding echo of that staff’s last pounding. I’ve told my story, over and over, but nobody believes. Mother said he fell out the window and blew away like the crumble of autumn’s leaves. To this day, I cry some times. Thinking of Bobby in goblin mines.

[billy]

i enjoyed the read, will come back tomorrow and leave a bit of feedback.

[cidermaid]

Hey Milo,

Great short story. One smal typo I spotted on third last paragraph. I thought I saw (saa)

Have you written many short stories? I think you have done a great job with this one. Loved the gradual shift of vision concerning the nature of Chandra. Nicely done.

AJ.

[Todd]

Hi Milo, it was a smooth nice read with good descriptive elements. I can always tell when a short story writer is also a poet (though it was easy in this case). If I were to offer any advice it would be the following:

First line: Maybe "I had been" rather than "was still". For me that construction seems to speak of an aging more than years but of lost innocence (could just be me).

You may also want to blend the opening of when the narrator smells the dried oak leaves he remembers the night... have the smell of the natural thing drive the memory.

If you wanted to expand a bit you could contrast Mother's world to Chandra's in a line or two, but it isn't entirely necessary.

I would have liked a little more specific details about the pre-goblin monsters. It wouldn't have to be long but maybe the zhomba bats lured children into their own shadows where they got lost, or some such. I'd like one specific eerie terror detail for the addition. I loved all the goblin detail, but even the earlier King's could have an activity or trait more centered to them. It wouldn't take away from the worst of them was one-eyed Nick. I like that she whispered his name, as if she was afraid she would invoke him and draw his attention. It feels very old sidhe. It might have been good after one story if one of the children spoke the name and she reacted violently (the only time they had ever seen that).

I would have liked to have you do something with the demon fiddlers. They seemed unnecessary if they didn't play. Maybe with the first wrong answer the song sounded like _____ and it removed from your mind the faces of your parents. I think you're missing an opportunity here.

I also think you needed to have one of the riddles somewhere in the piece or maybe through the thin walls have the main character hear the riddles know the answer and be unable to speak (whether that's magic or cowardice I don't care, but I think the reader would want to hear the riddles.

One option if you wanted to expand would be to have the protagonist seek to summon back Nick for his brother. Though this isn't necessary.

I love the ending and absolutely loved the crumble of Autumn's leaves part--beautiful image that tied back to the opening and completes it in a way.

I wanted to get my initial thoughts out. There was much I liked that I didn't comment on. It was a fun read Milo.

Best,

Todd

I was still very young the night my brother was taken. It was many years ago, but I can still smell the dried oak leaves on the breeze. Chandra called us into the living room for story time and Luke, Mary and I gathered and quietly seated ourselves around where she was sitting in rotund majesty on the old rocker; little Bobby perched on her knee. She was a big nigger woman that scrubbed the floors ‘til they glowed yellow and always had a handful of polished pigeon bones in her starched apron pocket. This was during the years before father had passed entirely from this world but lived instead like a shade at the edges of our world, only occasionally stepping out of the whiskey glass refuge of his study. Mother spent most of her days in bed during that time, not sleeping really, but laying in the great bed with the shades drawn and suffering through her existence in the thick Louisiana heat.

We sat reverently as at school during story time as Chandra told tales of the old people, or of zhomba bats or of the demon sprites that passed their mischief where the forest broke in the light of the moon. But that night she spoke of the goblin kings. First she spoke of Fruelagh and Braagh, the jealous twins. She spoke of Grollen and his dog, that slobbering hellhound that bore him. But the name she whispered was one-eyed Nick’s.

Old One-Eye, she said would choose a child just as the night seeped down to the roots of the earth and sneak into their bed chamber through the window. He brought with him three demons and each of the three carried a fiddle. He would wake the child, she said in a hush, and ask them a riddle. They were allowed three chances - after each one, Nick would pound his linden staff to the floor.

“and if the child answered right
old Nick was banished for the night
off to hang by dread-locked hair
in Kindra, the ancient dragon’s lair”

Then she paused and pushed back with her bulging calves to reposition her girth with a groan from the old rocker and she tilted back her head and closed her eyes for a moment and let a slow sigh escape like dust from an old bassoon.

“but if the child answered wrong
Nick stole them off in demon-song
to goblin mines to slave away
pounding rock ‘til the final day.
The overseer, a ruthless master
whipped them raw to urge them faster”

Luke and Mary burst out with churlish giggles to hear such nonsense. I wasn’t really sure, but I laughed along. I was younger and I wanted so much to be as wise and strong. But Billy, I could see the wide fear in his eyes. I knew he wouldn’t sleep that night. Chandra pretended not to notice his discomfort as she lumbered off the chair with him in the crook of her arm and moved up the stairs with a surprising grace to put him to bed. I went to wash up with Mary and Luke and headed up myself, passing Billy’s door on the way to my own. I thought I saa a strange glint of tiny bones hanging by human hair above his door as I skipped double-step past.

It felt like I had just passed into confused dreams of dust and coal when I awoke to the rustling sounds of climbing up the side of the house. I felt the chirp of panic try to escape but I clamped my teeth and bit it back. I have told many times of the sounds I heard that night: First, the subtle lilt of rhymes, backed by the discordant chitin of a bow drawn angrily across the bone of a fiddle. Then, the unmistakable certainty of a staff’s thump on the wooden floor. Then, again, the fiddles that sounded so much like beetles sliding back on back. And again, the thump of a staff. I could hear the harsh goblin's giggle at poor Bobby’s ineptitude with riddles.

To the end of my days I will here the resounding echo of that staff’s last pounding. I’ve told my story, over and over, but nobody believes. Mother said he fell out the window and blew away like the crumble of autumn’s leaves. To this day, I cry some times. Thinking of Bobby in goblin mines.

[tectak]

I was still drop this stillvery young the night my brother was taken. It was many years ago, but I can still to avoid this duplication if nothing elsesmell the dried oak leaves on the breeze. Chandra called us into the living room for story time story time and Luke? Full stop after time.Drop the and and Luke, Mary and I gathered and quietly seated Comma after gathered, lose the and. "quietly seating ourselves" ourselves around where she was sittingdifficult call...around where she sat, in rotund majesty, on the old rocker, with little Bobby perched on her knee. I would go for "rocking chair" or Mick Jagger comes to mind in rotund majesty on the old rocker; little Bobby perched on her knee. She was a big nigger woman that scrubbed the floors ‘til they glowed yellow and always had a handful of polished pigeon bones in her starched apron pocket. Great stuff This was during the years before father had"had" not needed. You are already in the past tense. passed entirely from this "his world". This permits the "our world" later. world but lived instead like a shade at the edges of our world, only occasionally stepping out of the whiskey glass refuge of his study. Mother spent most of her days in bed during that time, not sleeping really, but laying in the great bed not that bothersome but bed/bed bad bad with the shades pity about the shade and shades apparent repeat drawn and suffering through her existence in the thick Louisiana heat.

We sat reverently as at school during story time as Chandra told tales of the old people, or of zhomba bats or of the demon sprites that passed their mischief where the forest broke in the light of the moon. But that night she spoke of the goblin kings. First she spoke of Fruelagh and Braagh, the jealous twins. She spoke of Grollen and his dog, that "the" not "that." "that" means there is a choice of slobbering hellhounds.There isn't slobbering hellhound that bore him. But the name she whispered was one-eyed Nick’s. but me no more buts

Old One-Eye, she said NO. "She said old one-eye would choose a child..." would choose a child just as the night seeped down to the roots of the earth and "he would sneak" or you have said the night would sneak sneak into their bed chamber through the window. He brought[ b] would bring, to be a pedant[/b] with him three demons and each comma after "demons" ,then "each carrying a fiddle" of the three carried a fiddle. He would wake the child, she said in a hush, At last. A chance of a dash or two. "He would wake the child -- she said in a hushed voice-- and ask them a riddle. They were would be allowed three chances - semi colon after each one, Nick would pound his linden staff to on the floor.

“and if the child answered right
old Nick was banished for the night
off to hang by dread-locked hair
in Kindra, the ancient dragon’s lair” Who SAID these words? They are in quotes. I suspect you forgot to "say" and so you have a mixture of narrative and non-narrative statements. This needs working on. Begin with telling us who said it, then write it in narrative.

....on the floor. She then reassured us with her words.
"...and if the child should answer right
old Nick would be banished for the night.
Off to hang by dread-locked hair
in Kindra, the ancient dragon's lair."


Then she paused and pushed back with her bulging calves to reposition her girthfull stop, or her girth has a groan with a groan from the old rocker and she tilted back her head and closed her eyes for a moment and and and again.let a slow sigh escape like dust from an old bassoon. Excellent but does dust sigh?


“but if the child answered wrong
Nick stole them off in demon-song
to goblin mines to slave away
pounding rock ‘til the final day.
The overseer, a ruthless master
whipped them raw to urge them faster”ditto. You are a bit lazy

Luke and Mary burst out with churlish churlish is a bad word choice in this context giggles to hear such nonsense. I wasn’t really sure, but I laughed along. I was younger younger than who or what? and I wanted so much to be as wise and strong. As who? But Billy, I could see the wide fear in his eyes. Normally, this would be bad grammar but I can hear the character. I think it works. I knew he wouldn’t sleep that night. Chandra pretended not to notice his discomfort as she lumbered off the chair with him in the crook of her arm full stop or yet another and and She moved... moved up the stairs with a surprising grace to put him to bed. I went to wash up with Mary and Luke and then not andheaded up myself, passing Billy’s door on the way to my own. I thought I saa typo a strange glint of tiny bones hanging by human hair Hmmm. Too much detail for "I thought I saw"above his door as I skipped double-step past.

It felt like I had just passed into confused dreams of dust and coal when I awoke to the rustling sounds of climbing up the side of the house. I felt the chirp of panic try to escape but I clamped my teeth and bit it back. Good stuff I have told many times of the sounds I heard that night: First, the subtle lilt of rhymes, backed by the discordant "screech of chitin, as the bow was drawn angrily across the bone of a fiddle" on a bow, drawn angrily across the bone stringless? I ask because I do not know of a fiddle. Then, the unmistakable certainty of a staff’s thump on the wooden floor. Then, again, the fiddles that sounded so much like beetles sliding back on back. And again, the thump of a staff. I could hear the harsh goblin's giggle at poor Bobby’s ineptitude You cannot claim hill-billy vernacular then slip in "ineptitude" with riddles. You and I have lost the plot. Billy or Bobby? You can see the end and you are running downhill. Slow down.

To the end of my days I will here See? hear the resounding echo of that staff’s last pounding. I’ve told my story, over and over, but nobody believes. Mother said he fell out the window and blew away like the crumble of autumn’s leaves. To this day, I cry some times. Thinking of Bobby in goblin mines.

It's a yarn. You have the basics. Call me pedantic, but not at peak times. I am expecting this trap to spring at any moment, to great shouts of "Got'cha tectak"

Best,
tectak

[milo]

Hey Milo,

Great short story. One smal typo I spotted on third last paragraph. I thought I saw (saa)

Have you written many short stories? I think you have done a great job with this one. Loved the gradual shift of vision concerning the nature of Chandra. Nicely done.

AJ.

hey, AJ. I would say that I have not written many short stories although I find them intriguing recently and certainly much easier than poetry.

I am glad you enjoyed, thankyou for stopping by and commenting.

---

Hi Milo, it was a smooth nice read with good descriptive elements. I can always tell when a short story writer is also a poet (though it was easy in this case). If I were to offer any advice it would be the following:

First line: Maybe "I had been" rather than "was still". For me that construction seems to speak of an aging more than years but of lost innocence (could just be me).

You may also want to blend the opening of when the narrator smells the dried oak leaves he remembers the night... have the smell of the natural thing drive the memory.

If you wanted to expand a bit you could contrast Mother's world to Chandra's in a line or two, but it isn't entirely necessary.

I would have liked a little more specific details about the pre-goblin monsters. It wouldn't have to be long but maybe the zhomba bats lured children into their own shadows where they got lost, or some such. I'd like one specific eerie terror detail for the addition. I loved all the goblin detail, but even the earlier King's could have an activity or trait more centered to them. It wouldn't take away from the worst of them was one-eyed Nick. I like that she whispered his name, as if she was afraid she would invoke him and draw his attention. It feels very old sidhe. It might have been good after one story if one of the children spoke the name and she reacted violently (the only time they had ever seen that).

I would have liked to have you do something with the demon fiddlers. They seemed unnecessary if they didn't play. Maybe with the first wrong answer the song sounded like _____ and it removed from your mind the faces of your parents. I think you're missing an opportunity here.

I also think you needed to have one of the riddles somewhere in the piece or maybe through the thin walls have the main character hear the riddles know the answer and be unable to speak (whether that's magic or cowardice I don't care, but I think the reader would want to hear the riddles.

One option if you wanted to expand would be to have the protagonist seek to summon back Nick for his brother. Though this isn't necessary.

I love the ending and absolutely loved the crumble of Autumn's leaves part--beautiful image that tied back to the opening and completes it in a way.

I wanted to get my initial thoughts out. There was much I liked that I didn't comment on. It was a fun read Milo.

Best,

Todd

Het Todd, you have a ton of great suggestions here. I had never really considered expanding before as I tend more toward condensing or chopping. I am going to consider this new angle for a bit, especially with some of the excellent suggestions you made.

Thanks.

---

I was still drop this stillvery young the night my brother was taken. It was many years ago, but I can still to avoid this duplication if nothing elsesmell the dried oak leaves on the breeze. Chandra called us into the living room for story time story time and Luke? Full stop after time.Drop the and and Luke, Mary and I gathered and quietly seated Comma after gathered, lose the and. "quietly seating ourselves" ourselves around where she was sittingdifficult call...around where she sat, in rotund majesty, on the old rocker, with little Bobby perched on her knee. I would go for "rocking chair" or Mick Jagger comes to mind in rotund majesty on the old rocker; little Bobby perched on her knee. She was a big nigger woman that scrubbed the floors ‘til they glowed yellow and always had a handful of polished pigeon bones in her starched apron pocket. Great stuff This was during the years before father had"had" not needed. You are already in the past tense. passed entirely from this "his world". This permits the "our world" later. world but lived instead like a shade at the edges of our world, only occasionally stepping out of the whiskey glass refuge of his study. Mother spent most of her days in bed during that time, not sleeping really, but laying in the great bed not that bothersome but bed/bed bad bad with the shades pity about the shade and shades apparent repeat drawn and suffering through her existence in the thick Louisiana heat.

We sat reverently as at school during story time as Chandra told tales of the old people, or of zhomba bats or of the demon sprites that passed their mischief where the forest broke in the light of the moon. But that night she spoke of the goblin kings. First she spoke of Fruelagh and Braagh, the jealous twins. She spoke of Grollen and his dog, that "the" not "that." "that" means there is a choice of slobbering hellhounds.There isn't slobbering hellhound that bore him. But the name she whispered was one-eyed Nick’s. but me no more buts

Old One-Eye, she said NO. "She said old one-eye would choose a child..." would choose a child just as the night seeped down to the roots of the earth and "he would sneak" or you have said the night would sneak sneak into their bed chamber through the window. He brought would bring, to be a pedant with him three demons and each comma after "demons" ,then "each carrying a fiddle" of the three carried a fiddle. He 5would wake the child, she said in a hush, At last. A chance of a dash or two. "He would wake the child -- she said in a hushed voice-- and ask them a riddle. They were would be allowed three chances - semi colon after each one, Nick would pound his linden staff to on the floor.

“and if the child answered right
old Nick was banished for the night
off to hang by dread-locked hair
in Kindra, the ancient dragon’s lair” Who SAID these words? They are in quotes. I suspect you forgot to "say" and so you have a mixture of narrative and non-narrative statements. This needs working on. Begin with telling us who said it, then write it in narrative.

....on the floor. She then reassured us with her words.
"...and if the child should answer right
old Nick would be banished for the night.
Off to hang by dread-locked hair
in Kindra, the ancient dragon's lair."


Then she paused and pushed back with her bulging calves to reposition her girthfull stop, or her girth has a groan with a groan from the old rocker and she tilted back her head and closed her eyes for a moment and and and again.let a slow sigh escape like dust from an old bassoon. Excellent but does dust sigh?


“but if the child answered wrong
Nick stole them off in demon-song
to goblin mines to slave away
pounding rock ‘til the final day.
The overseer, a ruthless master
whipped them raw to urge them faster”ditto. You are a bit lazy

Luke and Mary burst out with churlish churlish is a bad word choice in this context giggles to hear such nonsense. I wasn’t really sure, but I laughed along. I was younger younger than who or what? and I wanted so much to be as wise and strong. As who? But Billy, I could see the wide fear in his eyes. Normally, this would be bad grammar but I can hear the character. I think it works. I knew he wouldn’t sleep that night. Chandra pretended not to notice his discomfort as she lumbered off the chair with him in the crook of her arm full stop or yet another and and She moved... moved up the stairs with a surprising grace to put him to bed. I went to wash up with Mary and Luke and then not andheaded up myself, passing Billy’s door on the way to my own. I thought I saa typo a strange glint of tiny bones hanging by human hair Hmmm. Too much detail for "I thought I saw"above his door as I skipped double-step past.

It felt like I had just passed into confused dreams of dust and coal when I awoke to the rustling sounds of climbing up the side of the house. I felt the chirp of panic try to escape but I clamped my teeth and bit it back. Good stuff I have told many times of the sounds I heard that night: First, the subtle lilt of rhymes, backed by the discordant "screech of chitin, as the bow was drawn angrily across the bone of a fiddle" on a bow, drawn angrily across the bone stringless? I ask because I do not know of a fiddle. Then, the unmistakable certainty of a staff’s thump on the wooden floor. Then, again, the fiddles that sounded so much like beetles sliding back on back. And again, the thump of a staff. I could hear the harsh goblin's giggle at poor Bobby’s ineptitude You cannot claim hill-billy vernacular then slip in "ineptitude" with riddles. You and I have lost the plot. Billy or Bobby? You can see the end and you are running downhill. Slow down.

To the end of my days I will here See? hear the resounding echo of that staff’s last pounding. I’ve told my story, over and over, but nobody believes. Mother said he fell out the window and blew away like the crumble of autumn’s leaves. To this day, I cry some times. Thinking of Bobby in goblin mines.

It's a yarn. You have the basics. Call me pedantic, but not at peak times. I am expecting this trap to spring at any moment, to great shouts of "Got'cha tectak"

Best,
tectak

Lots of great editing suggestions here, Tom. My computer arrived from NY today so i expect to unpack it tomorrow and maybe do a bit of editing. (Also, I expect I can return to a more normal activity level.)

I agree with about half of your editing suggestions and will incorporate them. The other half, I will leave for expalaining when I have a computer.

Thanks.

[milo]

Now that I have a computer again, I have done a basic edit for grammar and punctuation. I will work on other considerations.