It was a pleasant day, warm summer air lending a gentle sway to the treetops. Birds chirping their rhythmic singsong. The bright light of the afternoon sun sending beams through the curtained windows of ‘St Augustine’s End of Life Hospice and Care centre’.
An enjoyable day… for conflict.
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A drinks trolley slid along the tiled floor with a slight rattle as the wheels fell in and out of the grooved lines of grout. Cups and glasses clinked with each slight movement alerting those of the inhabitants that could still hear well that refreshments were on there way. The chipped white enamel cups would be well warmed by the rays of sunlight the cart passed through by the time they reached eager withered hands, though many would still complain of the cold hard material as they tugged soft cotton blankets further up their laps.
In the day room, Margaret settled into a large floral chair, lace doilies over each arm. The chesterfield had a pink frilled pillow to lean on and the best view of the garden which she could enjoy with her hot drink. It was warm in the day room, Margaret led a comfortable and warm life here.
Elsewhere…
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From far deep below the rabbit burrows stirred a throng of bodies. They moved fast from their earthen beds and scarpered together their meagre possessions. Toiling over one another with little care or order they dug haphazard lines upwards to their destination. The largest among them barking orders and scolding any that slowed the pace.
Thin clawed fingers pulled apart thick clumps of dirt and sod, ripping through strong plant roots and tearing a path to the grounds surface. It was cold in the tunnels they dug. Colder still deep down where they left behind. It was a stifling journey; they led an uncomfortable life down below.
Nearing the surface a faint warmth of sun-baked flower beds was inviting them.
Moist clumps of soil sprayed against Garrock’s face as his underling carelessly churned through the earth ahead of him.
“Watch it!” he called out in frustration.
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“Watch it!” Margaret cried out in panic as the saucer handed to her tipped its balance and nearly sent the cup it carried into her lap.
“Sorry about that dear.” Kevin the attendant said with a chirpy but apologetic lilt to his voice. He corrected her blanket and produced a small tray of biscuits from the trolley for Margaret to choose from.
“Oh, it’s quite alright Kevin, least there wasn’t any Tea in it yet. Clearly, I’m just too eager for my afternoon respite.” Margaret said, taking with one hand a custard cream and proffering the saucer and cup up as the attendant poured hot tea from a pot.
“Aren’t we all!” came the response as the trolley was wheeled away to other residents.
Margaret dipped her biscuit into the hot warm tea and took a bite. The softened crumb easily pliable despite her dentures and it coated her tongue with the sweet pudding-like flavour garnered from cream and biscuit.
Her friends nestled into their similar chairs around her. It was all shaping out to be a lovely little day.
-
Garrock called his party to a halt. The softer earth and its characteristic dampness told him they were near the surface. He bit down on a hard bulb that had been yielded by the sod during their climb. The root vegetable, hard and unforgiving to his yellowed fang-like teeth, issued a number of rough crunches as he chewed it. The hairy texture of the food tasted mostly of dirt with only a slight sweetness. The parsnip was pungent though and the scent wafted through the tunnels mingling with the dispersed dirt and ground to create a sickly mix. Still, eager noses took long whiffs of it avariciously as Garrock finished it off. He was the biggest, therefore he was boss, therefore all the prize was his to enjoy.
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“Up there lads. Lots of good eating’s. I’m telling ya, seen it all before I has.” He said, Garrock’s words were spoken like he was addressing a grand theatre hall or leading off a presentation. His followers nodded along to his words with keen fervour and attention.
“Never to go hungry again we is. But still, bigger fatter Goblins we gots to deal with.” He reiterated each statement with a thrust of his long gnarled finger, punctuating his sentence in all the wrong places with pokes and thrusts at his fellows noses or upwards at their goal. He waited until their attention was rapt, finishing off his food with a satisfied swallow and drawing in a long deep breath before he goaded them on. They were close enough, he had judged the distance. After all he had been here before.
“That’s right lads. Up right here…” His pause had the desired effect of long drawn in breaths, he poked a single digit up through the dirt and a bright, blinding beam of light shot through once his finger was drawn back “All our wishes will be answered.”.
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Just as she settled her empty cup into the saucer’s rivulet Margaret saw something. She deposited the crockery on the small table, hastily snatching up the binoculars that were left there for residents to use in habitual bird watching.
“Ladies!” she stated, calling for the attention of her assembled friends. Their attentions were disorganised gained. Millie, the eldest of the bunch raising a hearing horn, the long tuba like device long since left to the antics of Looney Toons characters mocking the elderly. Still they all inquired on the second call.
“I think we have a slight problem.” Margaret announced to the crowd. Through the viewing glass of her binoculars, she eyed the bobbing cauliflower with caution and intrigue.
Waiting for the confirmation she dreaded.
-
In the dirt Garrock hastily clambered atop his underling Muglick, the faithful runt had been digging ahead of the boss for the whole journey and was now awarded the great honour of aiding Garrock in checking the coast for being clear. Astride his shoulders Garrock pulled more dirt out from the small whole his probing finger had created. His rustling caused a full cauliflower plant to drop down into the hole his minions had created. With a ravenous eagerness they devoured the morsel of food, crying out thanks and grateful pleas for more from their gracious leader.
They did this despite the light, which near blinded every member of their tribe. The suns rays were not forgiving to the depth dwellers. Each of the goblin throng covered the rays with their hands, glimpsing what little wonder of the blue sky they could in staggered glances. To some it was mesmerizing. The first glimpse of light, light which harboured warmth, so alien and unlike anything they knew. For all their vision was granted by the bioluminescent glow of their fungal lamps in the Deep Below. The cold, unloving Deep Below.
As his arms produced enough room for his sizable snout and head Garrock probed the outside for signs of life.
He pulled himself a half length out of the hole, wary not to draw too much attention to himself. His eyes took a long moment. It had, after all, been a long while since he was last here. He slapped a hand back into the hole, feeling around and eventually catching the end of Muglick’s nose.
“Oi, gimmie goggles!” Garrock called, and without a response in words his loyal subordinate poked both his hands up in the typical binocular fashion, two rings pressed together by the fingernails. Garrock took the hands and pulled them over his large ovular eyes. He scanned off to the left, more garden filled his view. He scanned off to the right. Here a wooden palisade and gate lead out to the car park and a flash of memory filled Garrock’s mind. He chuckled with a grim pride.
Then he looked ahead…
-
From the glass conservatory that served as the day room for ‘St Augustine’s End of Life Hospice and Care centre’ Margaret looked out from her binoculars. There the tenderly cared for flower and vegetable garden had tossed and turned before the rich soil had enveloped one of the cauliflowers that had been planted there. Surely a prize specimen Margaret thought, gone in a second.
The moment after a long slender green arm fondled around in the dirt around the former Brassica. Then something emerged. It was hard to figure out, but eventually the wide white orbs, perched within the frowning green head turned and locked with her own eyes.
There was only one reasonable answer for this.
“Ladies. They are back!” Margaret said. Some confused murmurs came her way, the conical end of the hearing horn near pressed into the fine white curls she wore as her neighbouring geriatric asked a vacant ‘What?”
“They. Are. Back.” She reiterated with a stern and distinct voice.
“Oh, well who would that be my dear?” Asked Ethel one of the cribbage champions that resided on Margaret’s ward.
Margaret pursed her lips and drew in a long-exasperated sigh, kissing at her false teeth with an aggression long since left to her youth.
-
Across the way Garrock locked eyes with his old nemesis. He saw her exaggerated eyes through the mystical viewing glass she wielded and stomped down hard on the shoulder he stood.
“Oh no, not her” he said, and from below his followers asked in a series of bandied cried, whom he meant.
-
Between Margaret and Garrock, unknown to one another, both drew in a sharp angry breath and ushered the same phrase. Which sent a literal chill down their arranged masses backs.
“Those, little shits!”.