Jeff Crook - The Rose and the Skull

Mightily puzzled, Giles glanced up, and to his horror saw dozens and dozens of his chickens lining the lower branches of the trees. Every single one seemed frozen solid to its perch. Giles couldn't imagine why they'd taken to the trees, when he had seen them safely in their coop only yesterday evening. He wondered how many, if any, were still in the coop. He crossed the yard and ducked through the low doorway, dropping his egg-and-feed basket outside as he entered.

It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Dim light filtered through cracks in the wooden walls, poorly illuminating the confines of the low-roofed building, but even in that near-darkness, he saw that the roosts were empty. Near the door, shelves with dozens of round nests of hay lined the walls, but these too were empty. A few feathers littered the floor, but otherwise the place seemed deserted.

Even more baffled than before, Giles turned to leave, but at that moment, a ripping snore sounded from a dark corner of the coop.

"Who's there?" he shouted.

A startled snort answered him, then a burst of hurried whispers. "Speak up! Who's there?" he demanded.

"Nobody," someone answered.

Another voice added, "Nope, nobody here."

"Somebody's there!" he shouted. "Come out into the light so I can see you."

Slowly, three squat figures emerged from the shadows. One wore a ragged flat cap, which seemed made of ratskins poorly sewn together. White flecks littered his scraggly beard, probably pieces of eggshell, Giles noticed with growing rage. The shortest of the three stumbled over some kind of sack dangling from her shoulder; a chicken foot protruded from the loose flap of the bag. The third and tallest of the three had a mass of chicken feathers stuck to his chin, like some kind of ridiculous white beard.

"Gully dwarves!" Giles screeched. Millisant stuck her nose out from under Glabella's skirt and yawned. "And a big dog!" Giles exclaimed. "You… you… you…" His face deepened to scarlet, and the veins of his neck stood out like cords.

"Nobody here," the tall one said sleepily.

"Who's going to pay for my flock? All my chickens, lost!" he cried as he tore at his hair.

"We only eat two," Uhoh said, "and two eggs."

"Not more than two," Glabella added as she patted her round belly. Lumpo belched, smiling through his feathery beard.

Giles looked round for some kind of weapon, anything, a bucket, a hoe handle, just something to beat the three gully dwarves to death. Finding no suitable bludgeon, he decided to strangle them instead, and he even took a couple of steps toward them before realizing that here were three gully dwarves nicely trapped inside his chicken coop. Like a bolt out of the blue, a plan to recover his losses struck him, stunning him with its brilliance.

He stopped, and seeing his hands extended threateningly toward the gully dwarves, as though he were already wringing their miserable necks, he quickly tucked them into his pockets. He attempted a pleasant, nonthreatening smile, but it looked more like the grin of the cat who ate the bird. Uhoh had already taken a step back, and seeing that smile, he took another.

"It's all right," Giles said. "What's a couple of chickens?"

"Dinner," Lumpo commented.

Giles Gorstead ground his teeth, but he continued as he backed towards the door, "It'll be raining before long. Why don't you three stay here for the day, where it's nice and warm and dry. You can have all the chickens you want."

Uhoh frowned, but Glabella smiled and said, "You nice man. We stay."

"That's right," Giles said. "I'm a nice man." He ducked through he door, then poked his head back inside. "Don't go anywhere. I'm just going to get your breakfast. Breakfast in bed." He vanished.

"See there. I told you this good inn," Glabella said to Uhoh.

Outside, Giles hurried across the yard to the barn. As the day began to warm, and the snow changed to sleet, more chickens in the trees started to thaw and drop to the ground, like some horrible harvest of fruit grown ripe. Giles almost screamed in rage as he saw them littering the snow, but he continued on his way. In the barn, he grabbed a hammer, some nails, and a couple of boards from the scrap lumber pile. Wanting to be milked, his cows mooed sadly at him from their stalls, but for the moment he ignored them. He shuffled back across the yard to the chicken coop, the load held tightly in his arms, until he reached the door. He dropped the things in the slushy snow and poked his head back inside. Again, the darkness was blinding. He couldn't see the gully dwarves, but he said, "Only a moment longer."

Quickly, he shut the door and slid a wooden bar into place. Then, just to be sure, he nailed two boards, one at the top of the door and one at the bottom, to prevent his captives from slipping through the cracks.

As he worked, he shouted, "This is to make sure no foxes or wolves get in while I'm away. Have to run to market to get bacon. Back in a jiffy!" He tossed aside the hammer and dashed away. Once on the road, he ran through the falling sleet toward town.

Before long, the road became icy and slick. Giles was still wearing his pajamas, with only his heavy boots and woolen cloak to protect him against the cold. More than once, he slipped and fell before finally reaching the Oxen Yoke, the town's only inn. Despite the early hour, wood smoke rose from its single chimney, and a wan yellow light glowed in the window, proclaiming the tap and common room open for business. Giles crashed through the door, wind and sleet blowing in with him. The barkeep glared at him with raised eyebrows.

"Have you seen a certain stranger, robed all in black?" Giles panted without even saying hello.

He wasn't concerned with formalities at the moment, and in truth he didn't care much for the barkeep anyway. He suspected the man watered the beer. With a shaky finger, the barkeep pointed at a dark corner beside the fireplace.

Pushing aside the long sausages which dangled like Yuletide ornaments from the low rafters, Giles made his way across the common room, until he stood before the table indicated by the barkeep. At his approach, a shadow detached itself from the deeper shadows of the corner and leaned forward into the light glowing from the hearth.

"I've got them," Giles said, still gasping for air.

The robed figure stiffened. "Where?"

"At my place," he said.

The stranger leaped to his feet. "Ssssshow me," he whispered excitedly.

"First, the reward you promised," Giles demanded. He didn't trust strangers, least of all those who took such care to hide their features.

An angry hiss answered him. The stranger seemed to hesitate. "When I have them, you will be paid, but I must ssssee them firssst," he said at last.

"And if they don't have your property?" Giles asked.

"What?"

"The thing they stole from you?"

"Oh, that. Do not worry. They cannot have ssssold it yet. But if they have, you will sssstill get your reward," the stranger said.

"Very well then." Hesitating a moment, Giles said, "Follow me."

Together, they exited the inn and made their way through the increasingly wet weather to the farm. Along the way, Giles was disconcerted by the fact that no matter how slowly he walked, the stranger seemed always to struggle behind him. It was as though the fellow wished never to have his back to Giles. Only the promise of a handsome reward kept him from confronting the mysterious man. With the complete loss of his flock of chickens, he needed every silver piece and steel coin he could scrape together just to survive the winter.

They reached the cottage just as the sleet gave over to rain. As they crossed the yard to the coop, the stranger seemed very much amused by the sight of dozens of frozen chickens carpeting the ground. He hissed and giggled inside his cowl. When he saw the door to the coop nailed shut, he laughed even harder. "Sssso that issss why you ssssought me out," he said. "If you'll pardon my expresssssion, you wissshh to 'recoup' your lossssessss."