Hansel and Grendel, Chapter Eleven

Story McStoryface

Gnome Country for Old Monsters, Part One

The heart of Gnome Country was an actual heart. The proverbial center of the area was marked by stones in a lavishly voluptuous heart. A platform in the middle formed a dais for a throne, a small end table with two tiny champagne flutes, and a free-standing ice bucket with the neck of a bottle showing.

Grendel was still letting the tiny gnome hold his finger, giggling and acting ridiculous all the way there. Hansel questioned Gnash and found out Grendel’s crush was the Queen of the Gnomes, that she did this every time she met some tall, hairy stranger, and that Gnash was not going to tell him any more than that. The gnome looked nervous about how many beans he’d spilled already. He slipped away into the sea of pointed hats.

GnaGna let go of Grendel’s finger and mounted the dais…

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Hansel and Grendel, Chapter Ten

Story McStoryface

The Woods Were Alive With … Something

Hansel woke the next morning to the sound of thousands of cheerily annoying birds. They tweeted and twittered and toodley-ooed from all around them. It was bright and sunny, well past dawn, and Hansel was surprised he’d slept so long. Maybe the last few days were catching up with him. He checked his pocket for his beans and found them safe and unleaky. He sat up.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Grendel boomed. The monster had rekindled the fire and was cooking something in a pan. Hansel thought it might be eggs.

“Morning. Are the birds always like this?” Hansel hadn’t ever camped out in the woods before, and it was turning out to be louder and more personally smelly than he’d realized. He could smell his own armpits without whiffing them on purpose. The sun and the birds and the smell of the campfire…

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Hansel and Grendel, Chapter Eight

Story McStoryface

Don’t Bring a Tiny Gun to a Monster Fight

Grendel, having been grievously insulted by the cat, drew himself up to his full height, puffing out his chest. “This is not a good idea, cat,” he growled.

Hansel agreed. “Yeah, thanks, but I kind of need him to take me to Linda’s, and my sister wasn’t great.”

The cat wasn’t listening. His little pistol was pointed at Grendel’s midsection, and he was hissing. His hat began to slide off sideways over his flattened ears. His striped tail lashed back and forth with prejudice.

“Your hat’s falling off,” Hansel said helpfully. The cat was ungrateful for his help, to his detriment. As the hat slipped, his crazy kitty eyes rolled toward the wobbling feather, throwing off his aim.

PEW! The report of the tiny revolver was so comically small, Hansel was surprised a little flag didn’t pop out of the barrel.

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Hansel and Grendel, Chapter Seven

Story McStoryface

Feathered Hats Don’t Work for Cats

The monster Grendel was good to his word. He had a large rucksack full of food and roughing it supplies, and grabbed the dog blanket when Hansel returned shivering from his pee break. Hansel found himself wishing he could grow a pelt.

They discussed where Linda lived, a small city on the coast. There were many miles of forest and mountain range between them. Grendel sketched out a rough map, showing how they’d have to detour around a few areas that were impassable or dangerous. Hansel didn’t argue.

“Well, let’s get going,” Grendel said, hoisting the rucksack on one brawny shoulder.

The pair walked out the cave entrance looking at the map and took a left on Grendel’s direction. They ran directly into the side of the mountain. “Slight left, I guess,” mumbled Grendel.

The morning was brisk, but trying to keep up with…

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