Work Text
The goblin. In a grassland near the forest.No roads nor highways cross it.He lives alone in a tiny house with his hat, pots, farm tools and knickknacks. Every day he toils and scrapes the land, hoping to find a gourd and a sweet potato. Every day he watches the sun set during supper. Every Sunday he goes to the forest to forage for knickknacks that the wind has left abandoned amongst the hollow trees and the dried leaves. The zombie.Nobody knows where it spends the night. Nor who it was or where it is going next. Its hands and mouth are covered in mud and red. Each step it takes, seems like it is on the brink of falling down. Its body is barely covered by a ragged cotton dress. It roams the land. It is said that, wherever it goes, screams and shrieks can be heard.It was.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The first night. He was about to lift his bed’s covers up and get inside when he heard it. Grabbing a lantern set by his bedside, he stormed off the cabin and looked upon the moor before him, expanding each second he stared at the blades of grass being twisted by the raging storm. “Who goes by?” Shouted he. Nothing. “Again I say, who goes by?” Shouted he. The wind answered, his fingers tracing a particular spot amidst the grassland. Towards there marched the goblin, trying to cover himself against the pouring rain. Guided by the light of his lantern, he found the spot that the wind had signaled. And he found it. A true pity to look upon. Emaciated, almost consumptive, all skin and bones laying down on the wet soil and grass performing poorly to cover it up. Its spine curled up, knees bent in a foetal position, its right hand flat onto the muddy earth, scraping the earth as if to cling to it, while the other one was beneath its cheek, supporting its scarred, hardened face. A poor soul sent back to the world to roam around with no rest nor mercy left for its bones. “Oh dear me…” the goblin whispered , as if not to wake the slumbering ghoul. He looked at it once.Twice.Thrice. And then he looked at his cabin, not so far away from its resting spot.And thus, up went it, safe within its arms. Lifting the corpse oh so slowly and softly, the farming goblin gazed at its face once again, just to make sure it was still deep and fast asleep.And thus both made the way back to home and to the hearth, crackling and burning stronger as they both entered the tiny room, as if to say “Welcome back!”. It was.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
And by the fire, now crackling and burning sweetly, rested the slumbering corpse, safely bundled in the softest and thickest blankets its host could find in the cupboards.A few steps away from its sleeping place, the owner of the house stripped down, throwing occasionally quick glances at the sleeping zombie, so as to make sure it was still deep asleep, and disposed of his wet and muddled clothes, tossing them into a nearby basket that laid by the fire. Quiet as a field mouse, he grabbed a new pair of pants from the cupboard and put them on, carefully stepping aside so as not to wake his guest up.Once he had finished dressing up, from another cupboard he grabbed a hefty, round clay pot and filled it to the brim with water. Carrying the pot to the stove, on his tippy toes he made the way there and, grabbing a wooden spoon that hung up on the wall, he stirred the pot.Taking a knife from the wall, he went back to the pantry and, after much searching, finally got his hands on a round, wide pumpkin and a heavy-looking brown sweet potato. Returning to the hearth where both pot and guest rested, he steadily began to chop the vegetables and toss them into the boiling pot.Nearly 25 minutes have passed when both the stew began to simmer and it began to stir awoke.“Oh dear!” exclaimed the goblin. “Are you awake finally? Good morning then! I suppose you must be famished, especially with the awfully cold weather out there, but worry not. My house is solid and sturdy. No wind nor storm can wear it out!” He assured to it while he carried in his hands two dishes from the cupboard.It said nothing.But then, it turned its head and began to sniff the air, sweet-smelling particles floating around.And its stomach grumbled.The goblin couldn’t help but to giggle, setting the dishes aside and beginning to pouring the stew in them. Two dishes, one for it and one for him.As they sat by the hearth eating, its stomach finally had ceased grumbling. It was.