:: "A Fairy Tale" ::
by Katherine E Clarke
Once upon a time, not too long ago, a poor young man took his dog out for a walk. The walk was a twice-a-day ritual for them. Once in the morning and once in the evening they ventured out and, depending on the Basset hound’s mood, either slowly jogged or briskly walked through the neighbourhood. Then, as a treat, Kenneth removed Bridget’s leash and allowed her to explore the small section of wooded area behind their house.
One evening…while in the miniature forest, Bridget froze at the foot of a leafy oak. Her snout pointed skyward and she began to bay the signature Basset hound bay - mournful, spine tingling and very annoying if continued more than twice.
“What have you found girl?” Kenneth asked as he high stepped through tangled brambles. Bridget howled again just as Kenneth waddled beneath the low hanging branches and kneeled. Stroking her head, he was surprised to find her trembling.
“Hey, hey, what’s a matter?” Kenneth peered upwards and at first saw nothing but a great profusion of verdant, acorn-ornamented twigs. Then, a very slight movement drew his eye. He squinted hard and was able to make out small green clad legs - too small to belong to any child of climbing age.
“Well, you’ve seen me. You might as well get me down,” a disgruntled voice called somewhere overhead. Kenneth raised to an uncomfortable crouch and parted the leaves about the twitching thighs. Currant eyes balefully glared at him from a leathery, bewhiskered face. A straining jacket bunched about the little man’s neck making him look like an angry turtle. Stubby arms gestured toward his back. “Close your mouth before you swallow the whole insect community and unhitch me from the infernal tree.”
Kenneth’s teeth clicked together and he swallowed what he hoped was a lump in his throat not a fly. He gently grasped the chartreuse vested torso with one hand and disengaged the jacket with another.
“You’ve got. Now put me down. I’m a gnome not you dolly!” cried the diminutive man impatiently tugging at Kenneth’s fingers. Kenneth placed him at the foot of the tree and scooted backwards to sit on a flat moss-rouged rock in shock. With a strangled yip, Bridget took two doggie steps backwards. She paused only to give Kenneth a shame faced glance, then turned and crashed through the undergrowth. Kenneth watched her scramble around the raspberry bush-lined path and pass out of sight.
“I suppose you’ll be wanting your wishes,” grumbled the wee fellow as he yanked down his jacket.
“Wishes?” Kenneth echoed as he fisted his eyes in disbelief.
“Did you not listen to the tales of my kind?” The gnome snorted and rolled his eyes. “Another greedy human…obviously playing dumb and thinking in some typically warped fashion that it will curry my favor,” he muttered barely audible. He cleared his throat and dramatically struck a pose. “Lend assistance to one of the faerie folk and be rewarded - generally three wishes are granted. So human, what are you wishes?” His expression changed mercurially from annoyance to solemnity and finally, to agitation. He began to pace about and mumble. Only pieces were understandable though the gist was uncomplimentary comments divided between the oak tree and Kenneth.
Biding his time, Kenneth said, “Well, first of all,” and here he paused to hastily add, “and this is NOT my wish but a request, I prefer to be called Kenneth, not human.”
“Humph. I am Bretulo.” The gnome paused and sketched a sarcastic bow. “Now, what are your wishes? Come on, I haven’t got all day.” Bretulo waved his arms and stomped his foot impatiently.
Kenneth’s mind was blank. Wishes? What in the world would he wish for? He fingered the frayed material covering his elbow and wryly observed to himself that he would be needing new shirts soon, but that would have to wait till the next paycheque - or perhaps the one after that. “Money!” he exclaimed triumphantly.
“Riches, of course. I should have known… that is your wish?”
Kenneth sighed. “Well, if you’re not going to give me time to think about it, I suppose so. I wish for money.”
The little man rubbed his hands together and smiled for the first time. Kenneth shuddered and hugged himself. “Your wish is granted,” Bretulo said and stepped to one side and disappeared.
It was mere days later and Kenneth’s fortune had changed… but not exactly in the way he had envisioned. The jail cell was small and grim. Kenneth sat on the edge of the hard bed and stared at the graffiti. Figuring he might as well improve upon the artwork, he dug a dull, stubby pencil out of his jeans pocket and turned to add his John Hancock o the wall at the foot of his bed.
“Hey, watch it! I’m a gnome not a piece of writing paper!” One moment, Bretulo’s warted spudlike nose was inches from the tip of Kenneth’s pencil, the next, he nimbly leaped to the opposite end of the mattress and stood scowling.
“Geez!” cried Kenneth clutching his pounding chest, “why did you have to go and scare me like that?”
“You would think a wealthy man could find better accommodation than this,” Bretulo observed toeing the dingy sheets and eying the cracked commode.
“Wealthy?” Kenneth let out a short cheerless laugh. “I was wealthy for about two seconds until the police came and arrested me.”
The morning after his walk, Kenneth ventured out to deposit his meager paycheque. He rounded the street corner leading to the bank and nearly tripped over a large navy bowling ball bag. He picked it up and as surprised to see a bill caught in the zipper. Tugging the note free, he absent-mindedly tucked it in his shirt pocket and opened the bag. More bills were piled haphazardly inside. Kenneth was just beginning to sift through the contents when two cops pounded toward him and snapped on handcuffs. The bank had been robbed and a security guard was severely wounded. Kenneth was the prime suspect.
“My, my so sorry to hear of your misfortune,” Bretulo tut tutted. “Perhaps the second wish will be more to your liking,” he said as he rooted in a waxy ear. He glanced at the smear of yellow on his finger and bent to wipe it on the pillow case. As his face ducked for a second, allowed himself a brief smile of amusement.
“Will you stop that! It’s bad enough being here without you doing disgusting things to my bed. God I wish I was out of this place.”
“Your wish is granted,” said the gnome. He took one step backward, dropped from the bed and vanished.
Three weeks later Kenneth found himself in another room. Unfortunately the prison lockup was not that different from the local jail cell. The injured security guard who was at the bank had died. Kenneth was convicted of murder and awaited the execution of his sentence to be carried out - death by electric chair. He stood I front of his cell and gripped the steel bars. He gave them a half hearted shake and turned to see Bretulo smirking up at him.
“Haven’t you caused enough trouble?” Kenneth asked wearily running fingers through his crew cut hair.
“You made the wishes, I only carried them out. Perhaps you should be more careful,” Bretulo taunted. “Come down her,” he demanded pointing to the floor. He rubbed his furred nape. My neck is killing me trying to look up at you. I’m a gnome not a giraffe.”
Kenneth hitched up his baggy prison issue trousers, sunk to the floor and sat Indian fashion. “Let me guess. You want me to make my last wish.”
“I don’t see how things could get any worse.” Kenneth propped his elbows on his knees and rested his chin on his folded hands. “I’m lonely. I’d like some company before I die.”
“Is that it? Your wish is gr-“
“Wait!” Kenneth glanced up sharply. “The company - I want it to be a woman - someone who truly cares about me.”
“Finished?”
“I suppose.”
Bretulo skipped around Kenneth as he practically sang “your wish is granted” and vanished.
Kenneth heard the clink of a key turning in a lock. He stood and turned. A burly guard slid back the door. “Got a visitor,” he grunted and stepped aside to reveal a painfully thin figure.
As she dived toward him she began to wail his name over and over again. Kenneth winced and fought the urge to cover his ears with his hands. She was 5’10” but cut at least two inches off her height by hunching her shoulders. Her lank brown hair was brutally pulled back with a rubberband. A pastel knit dress clung so tightly to her figure that ribs could be counted and her collar bones jutted out from the wide neckline like shipwrecking reefs.
As Kenneth noted her features, his eyes kept returning to one in particular - her nose. It was knife thin, like the rest of her. So thin that it looked as if it could cut and Kenneth actually flinched when she moved to kiss him. The olfactory organ was long and hooked like a beckoning finger with a hump on the bridge like a knuckle. The size was further emphasized by a slightly receding chin and overlong bangs that hung in her eyes. She reminded Kenneth of the vultures from Disney’s The Jungle Book.
Her loud, shrill voice seemed to drive ice picks into his ear drums. The end of her sentences rose to questioning shrieks. As she clung to Kenneth, mercifully quiet for a few precious seconds, the guard stepped back outside the door. He shook his head in sympathy.
“A hell of a way to spend your last hour alive,” he said pulling the door shut.
Six months later, Kenneth was once more out walking his dog through the wooded path behind his house. A ravishing woman held his hand and gazed adoringly in his eyes. He smiled down at her, placed his hands on her small waist, and lifted her over a tree stump making her chin length, chestnut hair swing jauntily around her plum beret and her bell-like laugh filled the air. Bridget snuffed at the ground and with a single bow-wow, looped through the honey coloured leaves and ranged out of sight.
“I’ll catch up with her,” the woman said giving Kenneth’s hand a squeeze. Then, shoving hers into her jacket pockets, she jogged after Bridget alone.
“What’s this?” What’s this?” Kenneth turned to see Bretulo, his hands on his hips stamping one foot so hard that dry dirt puffed around it.
“Well, I’m walking my dog like I always do,” answered Kenneth. “Incidentally, thank you.”
“Thank you. Thank you, he says.” The gnome shook his head. “I don’t understand. Last time I saw you you had been arrested for robbery, convicted of murder, and were about to spend your short life with an unattractive, annoying harpy whose voice could shatter glass and frighten small children. Now I find you walking along with a beautiful woman happy as a lark. What happened?” The gnome’s face was purple with frustrated rage.
“Well,” Kenneth began, “I figured I might as well grit my teeth and talk to the wife you thoughtfully provided for me and come to find out. We had a fight last time we met. Do you know when that fight was? At the exact same time the bank robbery was taking place! We had met in a restaurant two blocks from the bank and scads of witnesses swore they saw us engaged a noisy discussion ending when I walked out on her. So I was cleared of both the murder and robbery. Not only that, I was rewarded since I had recovered the stolen cash. Naomi, that’s my wife, used the money to correct a medical condition she suffered from for years, a deviated septum. The operation not only improved her health but even you must admit her new nose suits her and it’s had quite an effect on her voice. She’s even joined the church choir.
The gnome’s face was the colour of beet root. Steam curled from his pointed ears. His mouth worked but no sound emerged.
“So, thank you. Thank you so much,” concluded Kenneth enjoying the gnome’s anger. “I really feel indebted. I wish there was something I could do for you.” He paused. “Say, don’t faerie folk love gold? I’ve got just the thing. A small memento, to be sure,” he said as he twisted the chunky gold ring from his finger, “but I do want you to have something.”
The gnome’s anger was replaced with a speculative glance then an expression of undisguised greed.
“Here, catch!” Kenneth tossed the ring. It flashed reflecting the sun as it twisted. It sailed high and was lost for a moment in the honey coloured leaves of the tree.
The gnome let out an anguished cry and ten sprung high in the air. His body thumped against the branches but his fingers managed to close around the ring. “Got it!” he yelled triumphantly. Then his face changed to puzzlement as he realized what went up had not this time come down. The broken limb scraped his back as he tried to work the snagged jacket free by swinging back and forth but he was firmly stuck once more.
Kenneth smiled. “Well, Naomi will be wondering what has become of me. I’d better be going.”
“Wait, wait damn you. I’m a gnome not a Christmas bauble.” The gnome kicked and gyrated but remained in his perch. “Get me down from here!”
“Sorry, I’m a human not an elevator,” Kenneth said and walked down the path. The gnome continued cursing and twisting until, worn out, he ceased his struggles. “I wish I’d never met you,” he screeched at Kenneth’s back.
“Your wish is granted,” said Kenneth and stepped around the hedge and disappeared.