St. Patrick and the Dying Leprechaun


The emerald green eyes of the leprechaun puddled with tears. His little lips quivered and his nose sniffled. “I don’t know what’s happening,” he said, “But I’m not the first to go like this.”

Patrick stroked his long gray beard. “What do you mean you’re not the first to go like this?” He asked the tiny creature.

“Ever since the humans have been noticing us a strange sickness has taken over. At least 20 across the whole island have died already. We get noticed. Then we get sick. Then we die. I’m going to die.” The leprechaun broke down into gut wrenching sobs. His bright orange beard was soaked with tears. “All we ever wanted was to bring good luck and happiness, maybe cause a little mischief, but now we can’t because the humans make us sick.”


Patrick patted the back of the leprechaun. “Now now there,” he comforted,”I’m sure there is an answer to all of this trouble.” He sat for a moment consoling his distraught patient before standing and walking to his desk. “You say that whenever a human looks at a leprechaun, the leprechaun gets sick and dies. Now I suspect, since humans and leprechaun’s have both been cohabiting this land for some time, that it’s not the look that’s making you sick, but the disbelief. A hundred years ago a human look wouldn’t have sickened you. They believed back then.”

Taking a rest from his violent sobs the leprechaun looked at Patrick, “So what do we do?” With a big smile Patrick leaned over his desk. “We change the rules little one. Make it so that the disbelievers never see you.” Confusion and skepticism filled the tiny fey’s eyes.

“I can see you think I’m crazy, but I have been thinking on this problem for some time. You’re not he first leprechaun to come crying to me. Unfortunately they all died before I had a solution. Lucky for you I have one now and can not only cure you but change the fate of leprechauns everywhere.” With a satisfied smile Patrick leaned back in his great oak chair. The legs creaked with the weight shift.

“What is the cure?

“Flowers.” Patrick beamed. He stood and a swish of dust floated off the floor with him. “Come with  me little one. Let me show you what I mean.” The leprechaun stood and followed patrick through the iron doors and out into the expansive garden beyond.


Patrick’s garden was filled with every sort of flower imaginable. There were roses, daffodils, dandelions, daisy, bluebells, and countless others all blooming and thriving wherever they pleased. As they walked through the mess of flowers Patrick reached into his brown robes and drew out a petite, crystal via. Inside was a golden red liquid. “Here drink this.” He said handing it down to the leprechaun. Without question the creature popped the cork off the top and swigged the fluid down.

“That tasted awful,” he blurted,”Like bitter wine or old fruit.”

Chuckling Patrick patted the mop of orange hair. “It has cured you as well as given you protection. I have many more such vials that I will give to you to disperse amongst the other leprechauns.” They had come to the end of the garden. There was no fence or hedge to signify the garden’s end. Instead it dropped off in the sky. Patrick stood at the edge looking down into the puffy clouds below. “From now on whenever a human looks at you little one you shall burst into a flower. They will only see you as a flower and nothing more. Then as soon as they’ve looked away you’ll return to your original form free to perform whatever mischief you please.”


The leprechaun’s jaw hung slightly open. “You mean that if all the leprechauns take this juice they too will turn into flowers when a human sees them?

“That’s right. Beautiful flowers. And have no fear of being picked. The humans will find that they have a hard time picking you. I added a small aversion spell to that potion as an insurance that that would never happen.” Patrick answered.

A laugh bubbled up in the leprechaun’s chest and came bursting out. “I can’t believe it. we’re cured.” He cried. Bursting into a jig he danced back into the garden. Patrick followed also laughing.


A little bit later the leprechaun was laden up with thousands of vials filled with the magical potion to cure the leprechauns. Patrick summoned a rainbow and watched as at the tiny creature skipped his way down back to earth. Smiling Patrick wave a withered hand. He enjoyed helping. Today had been a success. The leprechauns would be able to live in peace and it was all because he had found a cure.



St. Francis and the Singing Fish


I could feel the skepticism of my newest creation hanging about the room like a heavy coat. At first I though that maybe the red spots were to much against her scaly skin. Then I  wondered if maybe she was to corpulent. But now as I scrutinized this full figured creature, I realized the her tiny wings were out of place against the rotund body. They looked a little to much like duck feet.

“She’s so beautiful Francis, I simply adore her. She sings like a nightingale!” Emory never had a negative comment about  my work. I’d made him that way.

“Seriously Emory, she’s disgusting. So fat and fishy, not to mention that voice sounds like a cage full of drunk monkeys.” Paula, Emory’s twin, was always negative. Nothing was ever good enough. Both cockatoos ruffled their glossy white feathers in annoyance to each other’s comments. They sat, one on each of my shoulders, constantly commenting on my latest creations.


“Well in the end it doesn’t really matter what you think Paula. If Francis likes it then down to earth she goes.” Emory always liked to get the last word in. With a rude squak Paula flapped her wings.

“Hush now, I’m trying to think. You’re both right. She is spectacular but something is wrong.” Dutifully the birds turned their attention the singing fish. She was on a pedestal in the center of my spacious studio. It was a large white stone cave with a gaping entrance looking out over a sparkling blue ocean. A warm breeze blew in and washed away the smell of fish. The floor was littered with bits and pieces of fish skin, bat wing, ruby dye, and other various ingredients used to make this strange piece of art.

The fish’s voice was hard to listen to. Paula was right. It was high pitched and whistley, like  wind blowing over the top of a small tube. My ears ached.


“Turn it off Francis. I simply can’t take the noise anymore.” Paula whispered into my ear so Emory wouldn’t hear her. I shook my head.

“No Paula I need to figure out what needs to be done to fix that voice. If I can fix the voice then she’ll ready to be presented before the others and then hopefully sent down to earth.” Emory’s head bobbed in agreement. The fish began to flap her leathery wings in time with her song.

“She can’t fly away with those can she?” Emory asked.

“No, no. There’s no chance of that. She’s to obese.” But as if to mock the words I’d uttered the instant they left my lips the fish began to rise up off the pedestal. The cockatoos excitedly flapped their wings and bounced their heads up and down.


“Look Look she’s going to fly away.” Paula screeched. Stunned I watched as the singing fish lifted up and flapped her little wings wildly. Before I could react, she had fluttered out of the cave entrance and was skimming her way over the calm water. Her voice was still echoing in our ears.

For a moment the three of us just watched. Nothing like this had happened before. “Oh my, how unexpected.” Emory broke our shocked silence.

“I wonder where she’ll go.” I said.

“Perhaps we should just cut our losses and continue on with the next project.” Paula didn’t seem to sad to see the fish leave. With a shrug I turned back to my desk and picked up my quill.

“First let me write a letter explaining what just happened and then we can continue on. I’d like it to be noted that this was a complete accident. Just in case she finds her way to earth.” I scribbled down a letter explaining what had occurred. I rolled it, sealed it, and tied it the leg of a letter dove. As soon as the dove left with my note I turned back to the pedestal. “Emory, Paula,” I said,”Get the fish clay. We’re going to make another one.” The cockatoos bobbed their heads in happiness and flew about gathering the materials. No matter what happened in the studio, or how strange things were, the work could never cease.


Love With Crystal


The first time I saw the girl, my heart stopped. I was transported with a quickness to a world exploding with sparkling red lights. My head felt as if it was going to burst at any minute. There was no air, and my feet were floating on nothing. It was hard to see through the swirling sparks and thick dark atmosphere. My heart was on fire.

The girl appeared at my side while I was browsing the book shelves. She did’t seem to notice this strange and alien world we were in. “Can I help you find something?” Stupidly I stared at her sparkling smile. I felt like a child, a clumsy, awkward child. Sparks kept hitting me in the face and catching on my clothes. A few tugged at her short blond hair and bounced off the sweet dimples in her cheeks.

“Hi” she said tilting her head to the side as if she knew I was an idiot.  My throat stuck, but I managed to answer.

“Hello. What’s your name?” my voice cracked. She giggled as a pink spark flitted by her button nose. Shyly she shuffled her feet. “Its Crystal. What’s yours?”

“Adrian.” I answered. My brow was beginning to sweat. I looked around. “Strange place don’t you think?” She raised an eyebrow at my question..

“Its just a bookstore.” Crystal answered, and just like that the bookstore reappeared around us.

“Oh yes of course, I know. You like books then?” This beautiful creature smiled and nodded. “Actually I work here.” She explained. My heart thudded in my thin chest. Crystal was short and soft. The space around her glimmered like sunlight on water.

“Can I help you find anything Adrian?” Crystal asked. I blinked.

“I’m looking for a book about alternate realities.” I answered.

“I know just the book for you. Right this way.” As she spoke a million golden stars shot out of her mouth. Crystal was angelesque. A bright shining star. She led me to a back corner. We stopped in front of a shelf and she began to reach up for a book. She was just an inch to short. “Which one?” I asked. Crystal pointed. Heat radiated from her. The ground was shaking. I was shaking.


“So, I was wondering, Crystal.” I began to ask. Pausing I glanced at her gleaming face. Her eyes were pools of mercury, swirling in the light.

“Yes?” she prompted.

“I was wondering if you’d like to go get a coffee with me. This afternoon?” I asked. A shock like a thousand bees stinging me at once shot through my body. I rocked a little from side to side from the impact.

“I’d love to. Let me give you my number. I’m off at 2.” Crystal reached for a pen. She grabbed my hand and wrote down a number on the palm. Blushing with happiness I thanked her then turned to purchase my book.


As I walked outside into the glaring heat of the day I looked down at my palm. To my dismay my hand had sweated away the number. A jolt of fear racked my body.  I was already 4 blocks away. Disregarding the heat and crowd of people pushing past me, I turned and sprinted back to the store. Bursting in I ran through looking for Crystal. She was no where to be found. Trembling I approached the cashier. “Excuse me.” I asked calmly, ”I’m looking for an employee here named Crystal. She’s short, has short blonde hair, and has a round face.” The cashier just stared. I could feel the ground fall beneath me. “There’s no one named Crystal working here.”

“Are you sure?” I asked frantic,”She just helped me.” The cashier shook his long greasy hair. His breath smelled like tobacco and old shoes.

“I’m sorry sir,” He said.  Disappointed I turned my back on him. A sickening feeling welled up inside. Numbly I stumbled back out onto the street. In my hand was clasped the book. Sitting down on a bench outside the store I began to peruse the cover. “Magic or Science: Relativity for the Average Soul” stared at me in glossy white on a shiny backdrop of space. I glanced at the author. Crystal Barnes, I read. Confused I flipped to the bio in the back. There was a picture of a short, blond, happy round faced Crystal smiling sweetly at me. Snapping the book shut I closed my eyes.

“Well there you are Adrian. I’m off early. How about that coffee?” Opening my eyes I turned. The world shimmered and fell away. Sparks flew at my face and the air grew thin. “All right.” I said and grinned.


What Happens At Bedtime


Cody had never seen a clown before. This clown was beaming at him with his cherry lips while twisting a little dog to life from a red balloon. A smile twinged at Cody’s mouth as the clown handed the dog to him. His big red nose caught the bright sunshine. A thin, worn hand caught Cody’s shoulder. Looking up into his mother’s somber eyes he let himself be guided away from the bright clown. Looking back over his shoulder Cody grinned. The clown winked.

That night dad was drunk again. Tonight was worse than most nights. Apparently he had been let off at the car shop. Screams and shouts filled the house. Cody hugged his balloon dog and curled up under his bed. His little heart beat to the rhythm of his dad’s shouts. Maybe if he pretended he didn’t exist the fighting would go away. His mother’s screams shot through his bones like razors. A door slammed and all was quiet again. A few hours or maybe minutes, he couldn’t tell, his mother came up the stairs and into his room. She pulled him out from under the bed and took him to the bath. Cody stared at his mother’s bruised eye, and puffy lip. Her mascara was running and her nose was red. Like the clowns, he thought. But unlike the clown’s her’s did not catch the happy gleam of sunshine.


She bathed Cody and prepared him for bed. The towel was soft and fluffy, and his pajamas had red fire trucks on a blue background. She tucked him in with his balloon dog and kissed them both goodnight. Downstairs the door opened again and furniture began to bang around. With a heavy sigh she headed back down to her drunk husband. Cody began to cry.

The morning sun woke up the sleepy boy. Opening his crusty eyes Cody groggily climbed out of bed and headed to the kitchen. He pulled out some cereal and began to pour himself a bowl. The day was bright and fresh. Eating his Lucky Charms Cody went into the living room to turn on cartoons. A bright clown filled the tv screen laughing and honking a large cartoonish horn. Cody beamed. He watched as the clown threw puffy pies in a grumpy old man’s face while singing the ABC’s. The morning passed by. Neither mom nor dad came down to join him watch the funny clown. Finally Cody had had enough and turned of the tv and put his bowl in the already over flowing sink. Grabbing his balloon he began to make his way back upstairs to get dressed. But something caught his eye in the laundry room under the stairs. Curious he went to the door and pushed it open. Inside was a woman who looked like his mom. She lay on the floor her neck twisted like a doll that had a revolving head. Glassy eyes stared up at the ceiling. A trickled of blood ran down her chin. Cody stood there staring. Suddenly a heavy hand fell on his shoulder and another hand closed the laundry room door. “Cody lets go get dressed ok?” it was his dad. Picking up Cody they headed upstairs. “Dad, who was that lady?” Cody asked, “She looks like mommy.” But dad just shook his head and pulled out clothes for his son. “Don’t worry about it kiddo.” was the reply. Dressed and ready for the day Cody and his father went out. They bought ice cream and went to Chuckee Cheese for lunch. Then they went to a movie  about cartoon ants and bought rosy pink cotton candy. As they headed back to the car dad asked, “Is there anywhere else you wanna go kiddo?” Cody shrugged. Then he remembered the clown. “I want to see the clown! The one at the park!” His dad laughed a deep harsh laugh and off they went to the park.


The clown was there in his usual spot. Cody ran up to him smiling. As if he could read the little boy’s mind the clown began to make a blue doggy out of a balloon. Cody’s dad just stood there, tapping his foot and looking at his watch. The clown looked at the dad smiling, then for a second the smile dropped. But only for a second. Cody laughed out loud when the blue doggy was made and handed to his sticky hands. “Thank you!” he cried and skipped away, his dad following. The clown waved a white gloved hand at the small boy and his father.


Back at home Cody took his bath and climbed into bed. “Daddy, where’s mommy?” he asked. The dad just shrugged. “But daddy I want mommy to kiss me and the doggy’s goodnight. Where is she?” Again no response. Cody was begining to get impatient. So he began to have a tantrum. “Where is she daddy! Where is mommy! I want mommy!” Frustrated his dad slapped Cody across the face. “Shut up! Mommy is not coming home! Go to bed now.” Shaking with rage his dad turned and slammed the door. Cody stood there tears welling up in his eyes, his cheek burning. Climbing into bed he sobbed himself to sleep again.


Cody wasn’t stupid. He knew where his mommy was. He had liked to pretend he didnt know. But he had had fun with daddy today, so he had to pretend. That didn’t mean he didn’t know though. As he lay in his bed sobbing a face appeared in his window, only for a second. Cody stopped his tears. The face had looked a lot like the clown from the park. Frozen Cody stared at his window. Again it appeared beaming. Slowly it raised a finger to its lips and mouthed a shush. Jumping out of bed Cody ran over and put his face on the glass. Nothing was there. Outside in the hallway a crash sounded. Cody ran to his door. He tried to pull it open but he couldn’t, it was stuck fast. Again a  crash sounded in the hallway. A cry from his father came from his parents room. “Dad!” Cody cried out. “Im in here! Im stuck!” he pounded on the door. Again he heard his father cry out. Scared Cody grabbed his balloon dogs and held them close. There were several loud bangs and a sound like metal on metal. His father cried in fear, while a cheerful laugh echoed through the house. Cody shook with fear and sobs. The noises stopped. His father wasn’t shouting anymore and there were no more laughs. The house was silent. Fear and exhaustion finally won over Cody and he drifted off to sleep.

The next morning Cody was awakened by a hand on his shoulder. A police man was looking down at him with a sad face. “I found the boy.” he said to another officer in the other room. Scooping Cody up the police man carried him downstairs and outside. The sun was hot and blinding. There was a lot of people in his front yard. Neighbors, police, EMT’s, firemen all were standing around busily talking and whispering. “That bastard. It was only a matter of time before he killed her.” One neighbor said.

“Well then who killed him? The boy?” another whispered.

“Please ladies and gentlemen, just step away. Give the family some privacy.” A policeman shouted.

“What family? They’re all dead.” muttered a disgruntled old man.

Cody was taken to an ammbulance and placed in the back while a nice lady began to examine him. She asked some questions and handed him him a drink and placed a blanket over his shoulders. Cody looked out over the sea of people. Some pointed at him, others were busy going in and out of his house. But they were all busy talking. Except one, in the back, barely visible. It was the clown. He was standing and watching Cody. Smiling the clown waved. A small smile crept over Cody’s face. He waved back. Then just like that, the clown was gone. Cody just sat there looking after the clown, wondering where he had disappeared to. Cody had never seen a clown before, but he liked them. He definitely liked clowns.


Jedi in Training

Lately I’ve been doing some thinking on blogging and what it is I’m most interested in sharing and writing about. After reading a few of the other fantastic blogs I follow I’ve come up with a few unoriginal ideas for myself. For the next month I’m going to attempt to write a series of short stories purely fictional for my blog. Next month will be a new series, unless the fiction is wildly popular. This is part of my diabolical plan to get more followers. The blogging world is really beginning to challenge me as a writer. What the hell do people want to read about? I’m trying to earn the title of Blogging Jedi. So prepare yourselves to jump into the world of make believe this month. It’ll be worth it:)