This week, Enchanted Conversation Magazine
presents two Fairy Tale Flash stories:
Goblin Tree by A.A. Azariah-Kribbs
and
Regarding the Complaints by Monica Wang
We hope you enjoy them and share your thoughts
with the authors of these tales in the comments section below.
The skeletons in the bedroom window weren't a good idea. I just thought they looked impressive up there.
Once, a goblin stole whatever he could from a human village, jewels, apples, and buttons. He was lean-limbed with fierce gold eyes, but his hands, though slender, were like talons.
His one weakness was a human woman. When their love became known, the village threatened her if he did not surrender himself. He surrendered. I can’t tell you how many different ways they tried to kill him, but nothing harmed him. So they buried him alive. Some say these gnarly roots evoke the goblin’s reaching hands, clawing for escape.
“Ugh. Mommy.”
I ruffled the little girl’s hair fondly. “It’s true.”
She turned. “Is it true, Daddy?”
He held up his hands playfully, crooking them. “Oh aye, don’t you see the resemblance? It’s a good thing I cut my nails.”
“You’re not a goblin! Silly! You’re not scary at all.”
“Well now. That’s not a nice thing to say.”
She glared at him with his own clear, golden eyes.
A.A. Azariah-Kribbs lives in Maryland with her Brussels Griffon, Fuffle. Her work has been published in several venues, including The Sonder Review, Huizache, and Mythic Circle. Her blog, "Wallies Wentletrap" (https://wallieswentletrap.com/) features her original artwork and fiction.
His one weakness was a human woman. When their love became known, the village threatened her if he did not surrender himself. He surrendered. I can’t tell you how many different ways they tried to kill him, but nothing harmed him. So they buried him alive. Some say these gnarly roots evoke the goblin’s reaching hands, clawing for escape.
“Ugh. Mommy.”
I ruffled the little girl’s hair fondly. “It’s true.”
She turned. “Is it true, Daddy?”
He held up his hands playfully, crooking them. “Oh aye, don’t you see the resemblance? It’s a good thing I cut my nails.”
“You’re not a goblin! Silly! You’re not scary at all.”
“Well now. That’s not a nice thing to say.”
She glared at him with his own clear, golden eyes.
I crossed out the last line—didn't want to give the wrong impression in my statement. To be clear, it wasn't a confession. The police said there were no official charges yet, though I had to admit all the circumstantial stuff looked bad.
The cage in the living room, for instance. It was for the parrots I had. Exceedingly large parrots. The crushed skull on the bottom of the cage was a calcium supplement, so my parrots wouldn't get mushybeak. Where were the parrots? They succumbed to mushybeak after all.
The oven looked a mess because I hadn't cleaned it in a month. I last used it for a roast that didn't turn out quite right. A whole suckling pig—that was the burnt hair the neighbors smelled. The entire thing just came apart (I must've set the heat too high), and I hadn't the heart to scrape it all off. It was a lot of wasted meat, so much meat. But the neighbors were right to complain. I certainly didn't harbor ill will toward that young couple or their children. When those kids disappeared, I was upset, too.
They did do a lot of damage to my house, those kids, especially around the main entry. Perhaps it was my fault for using gingerbread walls. I baked them myself; it was cheaper than what the contractors quoted, and I liked home improvement. Sugar glass and so on were easy with video tutorials.
And the skeletons I bought at a yard sale. The police said the bones were “child-sized”, but the small ones were cheaper, that was all.
I trust this statement cleared everything up.
Warmest Regards.
Monica Wang was born in Taichung, Taiwan, and raised in Vancouver, Canada. Her stories have appeared in Green Hills Literary Lantern, Electric Literature's Okey-Panky, Kansas City Voices, and The Temz Review. She currently lives in Germany.
Covers: Amanda Bergloff
