Frightful Fables: Flash Fiction

Fool's Gold

The night guard seemed more amenable to conversation than the rest of the prison staff. Whether he spoke out of pity or boredom, the prisoner couldn't say. But at least the twilight warden didn't show fear and, for that, the ward was grateful. Although they had been explicitly instructed to avoid discussion of any impending charges - and fraternization in general - it was late and they were alone, so the diminutive man behind the bars decided to take a risk.

"I'm not what they say, y'know," he chanced, barely above a whisper.

The guard stepped back as if he had been doused in cold water and looked over one shoulder. For a moment, the prisoner was sure he'd be chastised. To his relief, the man stooped down in a conspiratorial posture. With a second glance, he settled onto a stool comically small for his frame.

"How did y'do it, then?" he wheezed, his voice ripe with awe. "I gotta tell ye, I'm not a superstitious fella myself. If it was up to me..." He spread his arms in an apologetic shrug. "There's got t'be a logical explanation for all this, but ye got me stumped." Going against his better judgment, he blurted, "What are ye? Who are ye?"

The prisoner waded forward through damp chaff and straw into the lantern-light. Standing at full height, he barely saw eye to eye with his audience of one.

"I've many names. Kobold, Duende, Trickster; y'can take yer pick. Myself...I prefer Rumpelstiltskin."

The man sat in rapt attention.

"Nice ring to it, eh?" the dwarf continued with a hint of a grin. "They like to put names to the things they don't understand. Me? I'm no witch." He shook his head. "Far from it!"

The man leaned in closer. "So how did y'do it then? Where'd you get all that gold?"

"Nothing more than a parlor trick I learned, Lord's honest truth. Elementary alchemy, truth be told, child's play passed down for generations. My people are an earthly bunch, connected to the wind and the grass and the stones. I'll admit, I should've known better; many a brilliant mind has lost his head in the name of science in this day and age."

The man stared in continued disbelief. Accepting as fact the prisoner's tale thus far, questions lingered and doubts persisted. "Surely y'knew you were bitin' off more'n y'could chew once you got involved with the Queen herself!"

"She wasn't the Queen when I met her, keep in mind. She was the simple daughter of a lowly miller. I thought I'd be doing her - and myself, not entirely selfless I'll admit - a favor. With a click of the heels, I'd found my ticket to royalty, after all. Pure happenstance! And when you're of my stature and my station in life, your options are, shall we say, limited? So, I saw an opportunity and I jumped. I played the part the fates'd chosen for me. Won't you look at where that's gotten me..." He paused, allowing the desperate irony to sink in. "I don't fault her, though; don't get me wrong. No, she's a simple minx that one. A pawn of circumstance, no more and no less."

The guard nodded in understanding, although he couldn't be sure he would have responded so graciously if he had been in Rumpelstiltskin's pointed leather shoes. A thought occurred to him, and his eyes refocused, causing his brow to dip low between his eyes. "But extortion, trespassing, a foiled royal kidnapping plot to boot? For the good Lord's sake, you've got to admit, those are some severe accusations!"

"What can I say?" The tiny man shrugged and let out a trill of laughter. "All a matter of perspective, my friend. You say charlatan; I say Jack of all trades."

They lapsed into a shared moment of silence.

"I do appreciate your camaraderie," Rumpelstiltskin confessed.

The man nodded and, with nothing more to say, he scooted his stool back to stand. "We've an early morning," he explained. "Get some rest."

Rumpelstiltskin retreated into the shadows of his inhospitable confines and lay prostrate on the poorly constructed down-and-burlap mattress. He closed his eyes and succumbed to exhaustion, although sleep provided little respite. His dreams were vengeful and tumultuous, his brain's way of processing the events of the past weeks, months even, in overdrive. He felt himself careening downward into a dark and dizzying hole - until the sun warmed the lids of his eyes.

The guard stood there, waiting to unlatch the cell's simple locking mechanism. Knowing Rumpelstiltskin, he could easily have picked the lock and frolicked off sometime during the night. The guard wondered what had stopped him from doing so. Curious...

The guard shook his head and hauled open the rust-corroded door. Placing a firm and comforting hand on the dwarf's slumped shoulder, he ushered his ward down a windowless hall and into the courtyard below, where the Reckoning was set to take place. Hordes of spectators had already gathered there, spewing epithets and slurs and the guard parted the sea and Rumpelstiltskin took his place at the podium of the Accused.

The guard never strayed more than five feet from Rumpelstiltskin, who affected a brave facade for the duration of the proceedings. Only the guard noticed a slight tremble in the defendant's fingers as he stood as still as a mannequin before the judge, the jury, and the people. Even as the judge called the crowd to order, even as he called out the verdict - guilty of witchcraft, among other charges - even as the spectators cheered their cheers and whooped victoriously, even as Rumpelstiltskin crumpled to the cobbled ground, the guard was there. Even as Rumpelstiltskin was marched to the gallows, crowd of haughty ignorants in tow, the guard was there.

Even as the sun's golden rays unraveled, having spun from gold to black, the guard was still there.