25/12/2016 by Alan Crawford
Robyn the Queen and the Gnomes
Robyn was lovely, not only did she always seem to be thinking lovely thoughts, she actually gave off lovely vibes and wondrously lovely aromas to all those lucky enough to be near her. Lovely was an overused description in the capital, an insult, but out here in the woodland, it remained a great compliment and sought after virtue.
Robyn grew flowers in her garden, a range of colours and types and many a man wanted to own such flowers. They were destined for the capital’s main population. This meant no woodland man could get his grubby little hands on them. The tried, they teased, offered money, marriage, rude conversation but nothing would distract Robyn from her task. She was told to be the third generation in her family of flower growers and she was the best so far. The capitol was abuzz with unbridled excitement as they enjoyed the vibrancy of her efforts.
The Fairy Queen didn’t like Robyn. She had read a number of “real people stories” about mirrors, answering who’s the fairest? apple biting and Prince kissing nonsense. She had her own way of getting her own way. It didn’t rely on any magical “nonsense”, her magic was true, clear, vicious and without compare. She could think of a thing and it became a thing almost as quick as it was thought.
Robyn had somehow escaped the thinking supplied by the Fairy Queen. No one knew how. The Queen was baffled. She was furious and very keen to find out how this apparently good vibe girl was able to withstand her brand of justice, even though the Queen understood who Robyn really was. Robyn was perfectly clear on how it was she remained unharmed. She wouldn’t tell anyone just yet as she had a plan.
Her plan concerned the daily growth of magically pleasant groundbreaking flowers. The capital was blissfully unaware but they were tainted with a spell of Robyn’s own making. An active spell that in any other circumstances would be rather disgusting, glistened like dew on the petals and provided a secret high no illicit drug could provide. Robyn was chuffed with the cheek of the plan, the success and she giggled at the conclusion it was heading to.
The Queen sat (yes she often sat on her throne) and pondered the strength of her spells. The best of the evilness she could muster and the accurate aim she could achieve. All useless if she couldn’t strike down that lovely Robyn. Even her name annoyed the Queen. The precious, cute, sweet and other suitably annoying descriptions for what was really a screwed up old witch whore in disguise. No-one knew of Robyn’s true nature, well none but the Queen and Robyn herself. Robyn often wondered about when she would be found out by others. She had a plan and hoped she’d remain in disguise until it was over.
The capital folk would not appreciate the outcome, but generations of Gnomes hiding in plain sight sure would. They’d forged yet another secret. Well hidden from the so-called normal “real people”. All of this play and counter play was being held on the edge of the wilderness and deep within the capitol. The name for the centre of populated space in this country was called Rossville. It was a complete den of evil, downtrodden slaves, well worn out paths to nowhere and absolutely no prize when one reached the end of a path. Death, in fact, was the outcome.
Those lucky enough to receive Robyn’s flowers enjoyed a slightly different kind of death. It was death by ecstasy, a slippery slope of brain juices overloading the sense of the poor souls enjoying the colourful delivery method. Each new flower added to the flow of brain juices and resulting death. Smiling, happy ignorant buggers, blissed out of their sweet minds, oblivious to their fate.
Robyn sat (yes she also sat a lot) at her window-side high back chair. She watched the sprinkling midday rain tumble out of the sky. It was barely discernible but a strained ear could hear it tap on the outdoor furniture which was proudly placed in Robyn’s backyard. The birds were singing and screaming while they enjoyed the rain as well. Robyn loved eating these birds but catching them was troublesome.
The little devils could avoid her lovely charms and her gorgeous traps, but every once in a while she’d be given one by a local woodland man. He was a handsome man with bumps in the right places and an attitude that suited Robyn. If she hadn’t been an old witch whore in disguise she may have taken their strictly beneficial relationship further. Bumps indeed.
The Queen decided that enough was enough. She gathered her odd little handmaidens and together they prepared the strongest potion ever concocted. The Gnomes had forced her hand. The crafty, ugly and short as a stump little things demanded that the Queen remove Robyn from the landscape. Her removal would then allow their magic to flourish once more and bring their kingdom back to the forefront of modern living in the Capitol.
The current occupants would all be dead, long dead and gone and the Gnomes could adapt the place to their own stunted needs. First on the agenda would be a new government, lower hanging fruit and a market for the strange drugs they exuded from their sweat glands. They stank and stained their way about their reclaimed capital city. Robyn was also trying to remove the capital residents but for her own purpose.
Robyn was prepared. She’d actually been in the Queen’s garden when the concoction was being brewed. She had changed herself into a small flighty bird and witnessed the ingredients being read out as they fell into the bubbling pot. Knowing what was in the brew helped her to create her own special remedy for the impact it would have on her lovely disguised frame and the sludge beneath. The disguise was wearing thin but she was nearly finished. The parts that were falling off lay beneath her lovely dress as the sludge splashed about.
The last batch of flowers was on it’s way to the last customers. Soon they’d all be blissed out, dead and not too much later, buried. The Gnomes also wanted them all dead of course but Robyn needed her magic to work and not the Queens.
Both of these powerful females wanted the dead for their own special needs, the Queen to renew her form, as it turned out like a real human story character, while Robyn had a different need. Robyn fed on the fingernails of the dead residents. This gruesome menu item would help Robyn transform back into her true self. A beautiful young, buxom Witch. No need to sell herself to remain young, she’d eat nails to regain her strength and form.
This outlandishly twisted chain of events played out in many strange ways.
The Gnomes lost. They died from not getting enough fresh fruit and overdosed on their own sweat as there weren’t enough cash ladened customers wandering into nonexistent markets.
The Queen renewed herself and moved to another location desperate for interference, of course, it was the type of interference that she specialized in.
Robyn was beautiful again, alone and looking for someone to interact with. All of the residents had died, their nails eaten while their energy had been absorbed by the Queen. Nothing left, no Gnomes, no nails, not anyone or anything anymore.
Even so, Robyn was even lovelier than before. She’d get on, that’s for sure.