The Goblin & The Girl (Unfinished)

Victoria

ONCE UPON A TIME is a very convenient way to start a story.

It draws a rather pleasant, yet well defined line between the then, and the now.

Separating those far off places, where glorious adventures ALWAYS seem to just happen, and - well... the here where nothing EVER seems to happen.

- Except of course, when Cousin Mildred drops round during a family tragedy and then one finds oneself at the receiving end of her compassion. -

Victoria had grown up surrounded by Once upon a times; but not in the way she would have liked.

You see Victoria's 'Once upon a time' usually involved young and breathy scullery maids vividly recounting tales of princes rescuing damsels in distress; of glass slippers, and of spinning wheels, of enchanted castles and dark malevolent step-mothers. Love's first kiss and happily ever afters...

Blarg.

Those tales made Victoria ever so slightly ill with disgust but she listened to them anyway, always trying to uncover the facts within the fables.

Next there were the cooks and their tales of sprites.

These were somewhat more interesting as they spun stories of slight creatures who could hide in plain sight; hoards of hand sized brutes with a half dozen arms, fingers like quick silver; and big black pools the size of soup bowls - dark and deep for eyes.

Victoria had noticed that over the years these tales had transformed, metamorphosing into things less and less fantastical, as if they were now all just memories of memories and nothing more.

Yet she listened devoutly as the cooks spoke with utter fondness for these sly little imps who would make shoes and mend clothes, tinkering through the hushed pit of the night, gone by morning, with great feasts and fancy dress having appeared in their wake as if spun from the very air.

Victoria was forever baffled, simply because the sprites would only ever seem to want a saucer of milk or a dry crust of bread in exchange for all their efforts, cleaning up after men and women and children alike. In her opinion such tales sounded just as far fetched as the love tales, as what creature in its right mind would willingly do someone else's chores? Especially someone else's laundry.

Of course, not to be forgotten were the stories recounted by the Castle's Guards.

They told tales of ogres, of goblins, and of hobbs. Of things that were not meant to be spoken of in front of the faint of heart.

- Or those hard of hearing who always ruin the stories half way through hollering 'Eh? Eh! Whot? Whot? Speak up lad! I ain't deaf you know! -

These tales were usually of things that did NOT simply go bump in the night and then continue peacefully on their way.

That was why these stories were Victoria's favourite, and it was the Midnight Watch who would speak of the most gruesomely delicious things.

They would sit up all night recalling and reminiscing about how they themselves had heard from a second cousin's brother-in-law's best man, who had witnessed first-hand (from underneath some overturned vegetable cart that had admittedly been on fire at the time) some great hero save an entire village from a rampaging Minotaur, or Basilisk, or Hydra.

In most cases, the general outline of the story remained the same but the monster would always change and that was all Victoria really cared about.

They crafted creatures with five heads, or ten arms, and blood red eyes. Teeth as sharp as starlight on a silver mountain top. Breathlessly uttering tales of beasts that could turn a man to stone; of wicked creatures that flew with steel wings whose cry could kill you at a thousand yards. Of things that looked utterly human at first until you discovered they had eyes on their feet instead of in their skull. Of sweet looking things that would drown you just to see how beautifully you thrashed.