week two;

manners.

she packed the sandwiches first, followed by the apples and the small bottles of sparkling water – before filling every gap she could manage with small biscuits. she smiled as she flipped the top of the basket down, and shrugged her cardigan across her shoulders. she’d been looking forward to today for the past two years of her eight year life-span, nothing could dampen the chipper mood she felt rock her core.

she waved goodbye to her mother, whose eyes barely left the pool of other children swarming around her ankles – and took the disgruntled hiss that left her mouth, as a very happy goodbye. she kissed the very top of her kitten’s head, and she patted the dog with a little too much enthusiasm, and she walked down the winding path that she had found on her sixth birthday.

when she had asked her mother on that very day, she had a look of danger in her eyes.

oh bonnie no. that path leads to the very middle of a very dark wood, and in the darkening shadows the children of goblins play – they play and they don’t play very nice. promise me, promise me you will never walk down that path. children should never walk that way alone. and bonnie had agreed. no children should ever walk that way alone.

she turned eight that day. eight and in her own mind, she was no longer a child – she felt a cling of adulthood tugging at her childish plaits, untying them and letting her long hair flow effortlessly in the wind. she was no longer a child, and she was ready – she could feel it. she would meet the goblin children, and nobody could stop her.

she hadn’t bothered with a coat, and she wondered if that was a mistake. but it was too late to turn back now. the trees were crowding above her head, and the smell of the forest flooded her body like a wave of happiness. she’d never felt this way before. she’d never felt this happy tied in between the four small walls, too full with dirty children. there was a freedom outside that you could never clasp when you couldn’t be there. but she was here now.

she thought she heard a rumble of laughter, and her legs stopped moving instinctively. she thought about staring into the trees to pick out the goblin-eyes, but instead she stared at her feet. her white stockings were grey with dust and her scuffed shoes were muddy down the sides. she felt uncomfortable, but even more than that – she felt invisible.

she was staring down when the first of the goblin children came out, and it was lucky too, that they missed her – so small and so innocent that they all just flittered past her without looking twice.

they came in pairs and clusters of three, normally. small ugly little creatures. and the final in this very trio was small, almost as small as bonnie, but his nose was good. and he swore, oh how he swore on the very life of his nose that he could smell apples, and pears, and roast-beef sandwiches – but his brothers would never believe him. and so they carried on, never noticing the small girl with the basket of apple biscuits and pears and roast-beef sandwiches.

she kept walking after that, unafraid – marching along without looking back at the small house that poked out of the back of the forest. she kept walking until she came to an opening. a large clearing in a perfect circle, where the trees seemed to bow outwards, away from her – like she was their master and they were all begging for her approval, their heads held high and their arms stretched well above their scalps to promote their height.

she didn’t sit down until she’d pulled the blanket from the top of the basket she was carrying. she set it down elegantly, smoothing the corners out perfectly, in the centre of the shunned circle and she set out the food. there enough for three and she sat back and she waited. she crossed her legs and she reclined into the open misty air and she twiddled her thumbs.

it didn’t take more than five minutes before she heard the sniggering. and then there they were.

goblins don’t really like clothes, and they don’t really like people – that’s why they hide away between the trees and they watch, mainly – they don’t like to be judged by their harsh exterior, or their barbaric mannerisms. they just like to watch people going along their days without any bother. but they also like to play. they like to wrestle and they like to play tennis, but they’re too afraid of people to run onto any open courts.

hello said bonnie, but she hadn’t taken her eyes off the patched quilt she was sitting on. she hadn’t looked directly at the goblins, but she knew they were there. she was a clever girl.

they didn’t respond at first. they took a step towards her, and then a step back and they hesitated. there were two of them, a boy and a girl – lucky, because she had only packed enough food for three.

hello, finally the boy replied. gathering all of his courage. despite the fact that he was significantly taller than the girl sitting in the middle of the parting, he was surprisingly terrified of her.

how do you do, bonnie stood to curtsy to the pair. i’m bonnie.

the pair took another step closer. they could smell the sandwiches and the biscuits and they wanted them. bonnie bowed once again and then sat down again, legs crossed and her palms pressed together in her lap.

it happened slowly and then all at once. they took a single step and suddenly their rough green-tinged toes were touching the quilt and they fell to their knees. grinding them into the ground as their fingers greedily grabbed at the food. they were grubby, and bonnie noticed. she didn’t mean to be rude, but she found herself tutting.

excuse me, she coughed.

they both stared. the girl looked instantly terrified, almost as though her legs were about to take off, no matter what it was that her mouth craved.

you’re not using your manners at all, bonnie shook her head. now first, who are you, and please refrain from rubbing dirt all over the blanket, thankyou. she nodded a blonde wisp of hair back behind her ear, flattening her pale dress against her knees.

they both looked at bonnie like she had stolen the sun. bonnie began to question herself. what had she gotten herself into, what if they didn’t even have manners. she knew nothing of goblins. she only knew what her mother had drilled into her head. she thought, she had just thought that maybe her mother was wrong. maybe they were kind, and just a little shy.

they call me – bonnie lost the word that the boy had spoken, knowing only that it didn’t sound like english, and she surely couldn’t be expected to understand it.
but i heard about a boy named john and i like that name too. the boy looked at his feet, suddenly bashful.

we used to live near water, the girl spoke and it shook bonnie to the core, the beauty in her syllables. so you can call me river.

bonnie grinned wide enough to catch sunlight between her teeth. oh good. oh yes, very good.

they sat in silence now, all too afraid to talk in fear of scaring the others off like they were all timid rabbits in an open field.

bonnie clenched her fingers together once more, staring up between the trees, trying to pick out any more prying eyes before she finally bent to raise her fork. the goblin children were starting. watching her. hungry?

they nodded but they didn’t move. waiting. watching. afraid that their worlds would come crashing down around them. they waited and they watched until bonnie pierced the apple cookie with a force that split it into tiny little chunks. she laughed as she picked a piece up.

it was all over then. the goblins were eating, and so was bonnie and they weren’t really saying anything but they kept making eye contact and they kept laughing and suddenly everything seemed like it was okay again.

i like this said river, as she pulled the sandwich apart, chewing on the roast-beef and tossing the buttered bread aside. tastes a lot better than the children we normally eat.

bonnie laughed, and she hoped that she sensed sarcasm, but she decided to let it slip past anyway.

it wasn’t long before they were all lolling on their backs, soaking in the light like it was their life support, heads all facing in and all feeling the sick prong of over-eating.

john liked pears, and river liked the beef and bonnie liked her friends.

i should go now, stumbled bonnie. she began to try and tidy the mess but soon she realised that most of it had already been consumed by the goblin children. they were strange, and bonnie liked to look at them with her head tilted – just trying to work them out. but she was afraid that maybe she never would. they were mysteries to her, but she was glad that just this once she never listened to her mother.

bonnie curtsied before she left, and watched john fumble forward into a haphazard bow, and river trip over a bent knee and suddenly she felt that strange freedom fill her heart again. she didn’t stop smiling as she walked back to her overcrowded house, and she grinned as she slipped back in the door, once again unnoticed and she sat at the kitchen table and she said.

oh mother, i had the most extraordinary day today, i could get used to being an adult.