Story Of A Gnome - Wonderful Short Story by Ursula O'Reilly

 

                                                             

 STORY OF A GNOME

 

 “Grandad, tell me about the Gnome.” I pleaded.

My grandfather had a singular talent for storytelling. All my life I had enjoyed listening to his tales of ghouls and adventure. But he had never divulged the story of the Gnome.

“Someday I will tell you” He would say. “When you are older,”

The old man was ninety years old today, and I was twenty-seven. We were seated in his small cottage, drinking hot whiskeys beside a crackling fire. “Come on, Grandad. It’s your birthday.”

Grandad wagged his finger at me. His eyes twinkled. 

“Very well!  But you mustn’t ask again. I will only voice this tale once...”  He sighed and leaned back against the well-stuffed cushions of his favourite armchair.

 “Life on this earth is but a dream, lad. A story we tell ourselves.”  He gazed off into the distance.

“Sometimes, if we are lucky, we may wake from that dream for a moment. It is then we realize there is more, much more to reality than we ever imagined. That’s what happened to me the day I saw the Gnome.”

“A gnome, like in the garden?” I asked.

“No lad. Not like the garden gnome in your Ma’s yard.  No. Not like that.” I studied his craggy face and waited for him to continue.

“It was many years ago. I was a young man then, and your Ma was a baby. I was walking in a remote part of Drumgool Forest.  I used to do a bit of poaching then.

There was a place deep in the woods where no one would find you. A small clearing where the trees were ancient and bent.  A wild place. Full of unexpected corners and shadows.

Suddenly an eerie feeling came over me. I saw something move in the shadows. I raised my gun and turned, thinking it was a pheasant. Then I saw it. The creature. It was standing on an old tree stump watching me.”

“What was it, Grandad?”

“A small little man.  About a foot high, it was. Staring at me with a sneer on its face.” 

‘Ha! You can see me, can’t you?’ the creature yelled.

‘Yes I can see you’ I said. I took a deep breath and rubbed my eyes. The light in that place was peculiar. Misty with a green tinge. I looked again. The creature was still there.

‘What are you?’  I asked.

 ‘I am a Gnome.’ It laughed.  ‘Ha ha! And you are a Man!’  It pointed at me rudely, and rubbed its small round belly.

‘You don’t look like a gnome.’  I said.

‘Your kind have curious ideas about the small folk,’ he said. ‘Why, most of you don’t even know we exist. Call me what you will!’

The little fellow looked nothing like my idea of a gnome. Dressed in a suit of green and grey, of a material I had never seen before. Something between silk and spider web.

He wore a pointed little hat, and his skin was like wrinkled brown parchment. His eyes glinted bright green. His nose was the queerest of all, long and pointed like a twig. I had never encountered anything like him before.

‘What brings you to my homelands today, Edgar?’ he asked.

‘How do you know my name?’ I felt bemused. No one ever called me Edgar.  The only one who called me that was my grandmother who had died several years before.  Everyone I knew called me Eddie, and most thought that was short for Edward.

‘We small folk are much cleverer than your race, Edgar,’ the creature smirked. ‘We know 

many things.’

I stood staring at him. I had no idea what to say or do next.  ‘What do you want?’ I asked. My voice sounded childlike, unsure.

“Relax, Eddie,” the tiny man exclaimed. “Is it not good for you and I to simply enjoy this day? This is a rare occurrence, and a lucky one.’

My breathing became steady at that, and my heartbeat slowed a little. I gazed around the clearing. I noticed how thick the trees and bushes grew, creating a kind of canopy through which the sunlight struggled to enter.

Suddenly something moved in the undergrowth. I heard sounds. Whispering voices. Laughter. A shiver ran from the top of my spine to the soles of my feet.

 ‘What’s that?’  I looked at the gnome. He was laughing again, and hopping from one foot to the other.

 ‘Ha ha!  Hee hee hee!’

I looked again and saw hundreds of tiny faces pop from the bushes and undergrowth. Each face was different and unique. Some had wild expressions, some appeared calm and graceful, others looked like tiny old men. Their skin colour differed too .Multiple shades of yellow, blue, green and pink.

These curious entities did not leave the shelter of the bushes and trees, but stayed there smiling, whispering and laughing. 

‘Don’t be concerned, Eddie’ said the gnome. ‘Many of my people want to watch. They will not harm you.’

 ‘What do you want?’  I asked again. The gnome put his hands on his hips and stared at me. To my relief he smiled.

‘This is a good omen for you, Edgar. But you must think about what you say next.’

What could he mean? Was this some kind of trick? I began to rack my brain for everything I had ever heard about the little people. I thought about stories of fairy rings, wishes, pots of gold and rainbows.

‘Can I have your pot of gold?’ At this the gnome began to laugh hysterically, holding his belly and bent almost double.

 ‘I am a gnome, Eddie.’ He blurted through gasps. ‘Not a leprechaun!’ I felt my face redden. I had never enjoyed being the butt of a joke. 

 It was beginning to get dark in the clearing. I was aware of the faces watching from the shadows. I looked for the path I had taken, but could not see it. A wave of fear ran through me. I thought again of the fairy stories. Wishes. Yes, that had to be it.

‘You must grant me tree wishes!’  I said. The gnome turned his head to the side, and clapped his little hands.

‘Well done, my friend,’ he said. ‘This is a fortunate day for you. I have enjoyed our chat, and I will grant you a wish. But only one wish, Eddie. So think carefully.’ 

I stared at the creature, overwhelmed at my good luck. What would I wish for? I thought of all the things I had ever wanted and longed for. Money, a mansion to live in, cars, holidays…

But what did I really want?  My life had been good so far. I had married the woman of my dreams, had started my carpentry business, and had a beautiful child. I had always been strong and healthy.

We could use more money, who couldn’t?  I was tempted to ask for that. Then I thought of our child.

Our darling Annie was three months old.  She was beautiful, but she was small and sickly. ’Failing to thrive’, it was called in those days.  My wife, Betty, tried every remedy to keep her strong and safe.

I knew what I would wish for. I looked at the gnome. He was smiling broadly. He knew my wish before I could say it.

‘You have chosen well, Eddie,’ he said. ‘Go home and take with you the love of the little folk! Farewell.’ “Grandad had a sweet smile on his face. His eyes shone.

“What happened next?”  I asked. The old man took a sip of whiskey.

“I don’t remember what happened next, but I found myself lying on the path, dazed and bewildered.  I recalled all that had occurred in the clearing. It felt a bit like a dream, but I knew for certain it had happened. I got to my feet and headed for home”

“What about the wish, Grandad?” 

 “From that very day, your Ma, baby Annie, started to get stronger and put on weight. To this day, she has never had any problems with her health. Everything improved after that. The business thrived; our children were strong and healthy.  We had many wonderful happy years.”

“You think it was because of the Gnome, Grandad?”

“Oh, yes.” Grandad smiled. “The day I met him, my luck turned for the better.”

He turned to me and winked.  “How about another of those whiskeys, lad?”

 

Ursula O’Reilly lives in County Cavan, Ireland, and writes poetry and short stories. Her other interests include painting and walking in nature.  Ursula has had poetry and fiction published in Poetry Plus magazine,Woman’s Way magazine, Drumlin magazine(Ireland), and by Earlyworks Press.