I skipped last week’s addition to the story [sorry, the characters were too enthralled with the Olympics…and still are].
When we last left them, they were sitting at the dinner table enjoying a great meal.
The goblin stood and threw his hands into the air. “You would cheer for Romania.”
Sitting on the floor, the witch glanced over her shoulder. “I have many old friends in Transylvania.”
The goblin rolled its eyes and stomped out of the room.
Ben tore his eyes away from the images dancing across the wall. “Wait.”
The cockatrice didn’t budge. Transfixed, it stared at the athletes competing.
Ben unfolded himself and followed the goblin. Wood paneling lined the corridors, ancient urns and small statues sat on pedestals. Chasing down his traveling companion, Ben grabbed the goblin by the shoulder. He jerked his hand back from the knobby, green flesh.
“Something wrong, human? Don’t like the way a goblin feels against your delicate, pink skin?”
“You’re harder than I imagined.” Ben rubbed his fingertips.
“My father abandoned my when I was two. Elves killed my mother before my tenth birthday.”
“No.” Ben shook his head. “Your skin.”
The goblin sighed. “Comes from …” It scratched its head. “Huh. Not really sure. I never payed attention in school.”
“Goblin’s have school?”
“You think we just know how to create explosives and bombs once we’re born?”
“I never really…I mean…” Ben scratched the back of his head. “The cockatrice knew how to use its death stare right away.”
The goblin jabbed a long, gnarled finger into Ben’s sternum. “I ain’t a mindless beast. Goblins is more intelligent than you.”
Ben nodded and held up his hands. “Okay, whatever you say.”
The goblin hung its head. “Orc humor flies right over your head,” the goblin whispered.
“Orcs tell jokes?”
“Heard that did you?” The goblin frowned. “They mostly involve eating humans.” It shrugged. “So, you probably haven’t heard many.”
“That’s settled? Good.” The goblin nodded. “Leave me alone.” It spun on its heel and strode away.
“Wait.” Ben reached toward the goblin, but stopped. “What’s the matter?”
The goblin pointed toward the television. “She’s cheering for Romania.”
“So?” Ben shrugged.
“It’s…” The goblin shook his head. “You don’t understand.”
“Maybe she’s from there.”
“Well, we’re here, now.” The goblin scowled at Ben.
“I don’t even know where here is.” Ben scratched his head. “Or what we’re still doing here.”
The goblin grit its teeth and folded its arms over its chest. “That’s completely beside the point.”
The goblin shook its head. “No.”
“How can I help if I don’t know the problem?”
“I never asked for your help. Don’t need it.” The goblin walked away.
Ben followed. He bumped into a pedestal. The urn atop it wobbled. Ben’s eyes widened as he reached for it.
The goblin spun and dove. It caught the vase before the witch’s property could shatter across the tile floor. “Careful.” The goblin glowered at Ben.
“Thanks.” Sweat beaded on Ben’s forehead.
The lid of the urn tilted and slid to the floor. Purple smoke billowed from inside the vase.
“YES!” The smoke formed into a man flexing his arms in triumph.
“Prehendo te!” The witch stood in the arch of the hallway and pointed a long finger at the smoke-man. “Back into your home.”
“Aw.” The man’s shape returned to a billowy, purple cloud and slid into the urn.
The witch flicked her wrist. The urn’s lid leapt back into place. She scowled at Ben. “Be more careful, next time.”
“Yeah,” the goblin said, “be more careful.”
Ben shot the goblin a dirty look.
The goblin winked.
“As for you.” The witch frowned at the goblin. “Put that back on the pedestal before half the Astral Plane feels my wards diminishing.”
The goblin stood and slid the urn back into place. It wiped a hand over its brow.
The witch nodded and returned to the Olympics.
The goblin watched her go.
Ben snapped his fingers in front of the goblin’s face.
The goblin swatted away Ben’s hands. “Get off!”
“You like her.” Ben grinned.
So, what do you think will happen? What do you want to happen? Was it too short? Too long? Too unfunny?
Yep, that’s right. I’m soliciting comments and suggestions. I may even use them. No matter how wacky, zany, nerdy, or weird. No matter how serious, fanciful, or sci-fi. It’s a choose your own adventure. You choose what happens next.