Regan Wolfrom - Catholic Guilt and the Joy of Hating Men

“This is our quiet and humble home,” the orange gnome said.

“Take off your clothes and lie down,” the brown gnome said.

“This doesn’t sound like love to me,” Marguerite said.

“It’s passion unbridled,” the orange gnome said. “It burns like an eternal flame for you, my angel.”

“Do you want this or not?” the brown gnome asked.

She knew she did.

She took off her shirt and her pants, and laid down with only her underwear on. The ground beneath her was much warmer and softer than she expected, like a bed of grass and flower petals. It smelled even better than the gardens above.

“How does this work?” she asked. “You guys are like less than two feet tall.”

“Love finds a way,” the orange gnome said.

“It’s not about size,” the brown gnome said. “It’s all in how you use it.”

Marguerite didn’t ask any more questions, and soon she felt the hands on her body, removing her underwear and touching her skin. It felt different, like one of those massage machines at the shopping mall, or what she’d expect it felt like if you wandered naked through a waterless car wash. It wasn’t what she’d imagined, but it did feel good.

Both gnomes touched her and both gnomes kissed her. She couldn’t be sure who was who, though she managed a strong guess from the feel of each beard. They tickled her in a way she’d never expected, and she was surprised at just how arousing it was.

There were more than a few minutes of touching and kissing, and biting and the faintest pulling of her hair. And then she was pretty sure both gnomes had their way with her, the first soft and gentle, the second rough and hard. Each one was special in its own way, but she knew which lover she preferred.

She felt two tiny kisses against her lips, one after the other.

And then the gnomes were gone.

Marguerite felt around blindly for her underwear; failing that she eventually found the rest of her clothes. She got dressed and started pushing along the wall towards where she thought she’d come in, finding her way through the blackness with many bumps and scrapes against the cold and hard cavern.

Finally she came to what she thought was the hidden rock door, but she couldn’t find a way to open it. She shoved her whole body against it, weathering the scratching of the stone against her skin.

She called out for help but she didn’t think anyone could hear her.

She stood there for a few minutes, too overwhelmed to weep, and then she made her way back to the grass and flower bed, to see if the tunnel carried on beyond it. She felt all along the rock, looking for a passage, but the only way in was where she’d come from; she was trapped underground, abandoned by her small and bearded lovers.

It didn’t feel real anymore. She didn’t see how they could have left her behind.

Exhausted, she curled up on the grass and flower bed and went to sleep.

Marguerite woke up to the rays of the sun, and for a moment it felt like she’d never left the glade of blue and white flowers and little brown-capped mushrooms. But she remembered what had happened, and she noticed right then that her bra and panties were still missing.

She looked over to where the orange and brown gnomes had been. No one was there.

She stood up and found her way to the Initiation Well, wondering if the gnomes were down there, but she felt silly and didn’t want to climb all the way back down. She turned and walked back towards the Chapel, wondering if she could trust what she remembered.

On her way past one of the sculpted fountains, she saw her brother Bradley and his latest date, a dark-haired girl with a long and pretty nose. Each of them had a little plastic gnome bundled in their arms.

“Hey,” Bradley said as he held up his orange-hatted gnome, “look what we found just outside the Chapel. Some jerk-off just left them in the grass.”

Marguerite froze, unable to come up with something to say.

“Are you okay?” the girl asked in passable English. “Is this your sister, Bradley?”

“Uh, Marguerite,” Bradley said, “you with us?”

“What are you going to do with those?” Marguerite asked.

Bradley shrugged. “We might throw them down the well… that’d freak out whoever’s standing at the bottom.”

Marguerite heard the chirp of a phone.

Bradley pulled his phone from the pocket and glanced at the screen. “Dammit,” he said, “I think I’ve got to run.” He turned to his date. “I can drop you back in town if you’d like.”

The girl gave a little pout. “But we just got here,” she said. “You promised you’d show me the well.”

“I can show you the well,” Marguerite said with a smile. “Bradley talks about it so much that I’m more than qualified to give you the tour.”

The girl looked her over for a moment before nodding. She gave Bradley a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you later?”

Bradley smiled at the girl before shooting Marguerite a quick angry look. “I’ll see you guys,” he said before turning to leave.

“Wait,” Marguerite said. “What about that garden gnome?”

Bradley tossed the orange gnome over to her, and she caught it without trouble. He stomped away, and Marguerite led the pretty long-nosed girl back to the glade of flowers and mushrooms. She wanted to make sure she repeated each step exactly.

They both nibbled on a mushroom as Marguerite started telling the story of the Templars, making it all up as she went. The girl seemed really nice, and Marguerite had a feeling that she would appreciate what was coming.

But there was still one thing left to do.

“Hold on,” Marguerite said.

“What is it?”

“Can I see your gnome?”

She held out the brown-hatted gnome with the stern and serious face. Marguerite handed the orange one over in exchange; she had no need for it.

“I like this one better,” the pretty Portuguese girl said. “He has a nice smile.”

“We all have our favorites,” Marguerite said as she held the brown gnome close to her chest. “Now let me show you the Initiation Well. It’s really like nothing else in the world.”

Marguerite started to feel her little gnome’s heart begin to beat; she knew it was real.

Marguerite woke up in the sunlight again, with the pretty Portuguese girl still sleeping beside her.

She gently squeezed the girl’s shoulder.

“I don’t even know your name,” Marguerite said.

“My name is Adelia,” she said. She started to cry.

“What’s wrong?”

“That was wrong. I don’t know what happened.”

“It was magic. That’s a good thing.”

“No,” Adelia said, “that’s not good. It’s wrong.”

“Fine,” Marguerite said. “Whatever.” She stood up. “If you hated it so much you don’t ever have to do it again.”

“Where are the… gnomos ?”

“Probably where you and Bradley found them before.”

“The chapel,” Adelia said. “We must get them.”

She got up and started walking briskly toward the chapel.

Marguerite felt she had no choice but to follow.

They found the gnomes lying in a bed of purple and yellow flowers growing alongside the white walls of the chapel.

Adelia picked up the brown-hatted gnome and passed it to Marguerite.

“What are we going to do with them?” Marguerite asked.

“We’re going to be rid of them,” Adelia said. She picked up the other gnome.

“Let’s find a garbage can or something.”

“No… don’t be foolish. We have to destroy them.”