Kings and Goblin-Folk


Deep in the bog, Greeneyes lived with her family. Their roof was moss, their round door grey wood, their floor bare earth. They were goblin-folk, driven into the shadows.

One night, Greeneyes walked under the stars and heard a voice cry out.

“Little goblin, tell me your name.”

Names were potent things and Greeneyes knew better than to give hers to night-voices.

“I am a leaf in spring,” she said. “And what are you?”

The water stirred. She saw a leather-skinned man, his neck wrapped with a tight cord.

“I am a king. Cut me free and I shall set you upon a throne of silver and gold.”

Greeneyes laughed. “What do I want with silver? You can’t eat it and you can’t burn it.”

“I will give you beauty to make princes kneel before you.”

“I am beautiful enough.”

“I will give you justice,” the bog-man said through stiff lips.

“Our justice will come,” Greeneyes replied. “One day we shall laugh in Goblintown. But it shall not come from you.”

Greeneyes left the king to his hangman’s rope and went back to her house, where peat fires burnt brighter than gold and songs meant more than dead king’s promises.

Word Count: 200

This is for Sunday Photo Fiction. Thanks to Eric Wiklund for the prompt photo!

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