Goblins Don't Exist. Trust Me, I'm A Faerie.
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Prompt from DailyPrompt.com
Pipkin’s walnutty brow furrowed. “What?”
“It’s to keep away goblins.” Waldo repeated. “No offence to yourself, of course!”
“Ah, yeah, none taken.” The small fey peered up at the chalk scrawls. “But… goblins don’t exist.”
Waldo scoffed. “Of course they do!”
“No. Humans made them up.” Pipkin fluttered up to eye height. “Pretended immigrants were Outsiders and could be warded off. You do that a lot. Mash together Other and other. There are some fay sort of like goblins. But goblins don’t exist.”
“Goes to show how sneaky the bastards are!”
Pipkin sighed. “They’d be in the Tome. We keep track of our own.”
“You don’t understand, lil’un.” Waldo shook his head with a sorrowful grimace. “Gobs are lawless renegades! They’d never consent to being recorded, much less next to good folks like you. That would let people bring them to justice!”
“But they don’t…” Pipkin trailed off and tugged at his ears and throttled another sign. “Justice for what?”
“Peeling paint!” Waldo jabbed a finger at the ‘warded’ fence. “See how it’s coming off in lines? Goblins amusing themselves undoing the work of honest folk!”
“Looks like cheap primer to me.”
Waldo ignored this scepticism and pointed to a withering shrub. “And see this? The wretches have cursed my new lilac!”
“That’s dog piss.” Pipkin said confidently, wrinkling his nose. “Poor thing can’t handle the acid. You’d be better off with it inside the fence where they can’t get to it. Or at least having a line of them, not one target on its own.”
Waldo’s mouth dropped open. “You’re saying goblins control dogs??”
“…No.” Pipkin was twisting his ears now. “I’m saying your neighbours don’t and just let their pets piss wherever.”
“The monsters are more insidious than I ever feared!” Waldo bit his thumb and shuddered. “Turning my neighbours against me all unwitting! I’ll have to get more cloves!”
“Cloves?” The moment it slipped out Pipkin knew he shouldn’t have asked.
“Of course! Don’t you know?” Waldo gazed with bewildered concern. “Goblins can’t stand cloves. Any kind of cloves. The spice, garlic, goat hooves…”
“That - how would - they don’t even…” Pipkin shook his head. “I-I need to go.”
“Oh, yes, you should stock up too!”
“That’s-”
“As well as cloves, remember that they hate sixes! So all the warding nails need to be a size six.”
“Mm.”
“And I’ve heard tell that they fear white wine, but I’m not sure about that one.”
“Goodbye.”
“Goodbye, neighbour!” Waldo waved vigorously. “Lovely to meet you. Drop by any time if you have more questions.”
Prompt was “Write a story from the perspective of a character who has extreme and eccentric superstitions.”