Short Stories

A Small, Sad Dwarf Part 5

Catch up on the story: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, and Part 4

The small, sad dwarf found a new friend. But who is Dasher and where did he come from?

Dasher moved fast. He was unlike anyone the dwarf had met before. Frequently, he would bound on all fours. This helped him climb trees to scout out the road ahead. More than once, the dwarf noticed Dasher disappearing among the branches and leaves. The dwarf called to him.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh, nothing!” Dasher would say. Then there came a crunch. The flapping of wings. Dasher jumped down from the trees, wiping his mouth.

“This way, come on. Hurry!”

They had left the town far behind and entered a forest. It was nothing like the forest the dwarf had passed through earlier. Here, the trees were gnarled and cruel-looking. Only a little bit of light came through the canopy. The dwarf heard eerie sounds wafting from the sides of the road. Dasher laughed off his worries, saying it was normal.

“I didn’t think much was still left alive,” the dwarf said. “After the end.”

“Oh, not much is,” Dasher said. “In fact, what you’re hearing might not even be alive.”

Dasher refused to explain what he meant. It troubled the dwarf and he kept away from the sides of the road.

“Are you sure the man and his daughter went this way?” the dwarf asked.
Dasher spun around. “Are you doubting me, my friend? Do you have any better idea of where they went? As I see it, I’m the only soul left who has seen your quarry. Might as well trust me, eh?”

The forest grew thicker. It worried the dwarf that the road became hard to follow. Soon, it seemed to vanish altogether. He followed Dasher across flat, dry ground, with no clear path at all. The trees grew thick and close together.

Dasher didn’t seem worried. Yet he stopped climbing up the trees.

“It must be getting late,” the dwarf said. He realized they had been walking for hours. “Very little light is coming through the trees.”

“No, the trees are just getting thicker,” Dasher said. “There’s light, just up ahead. We have to get over this, though.”

Whatever path they had been following was completely blocked. A sheer rock wall was in their way. Dasher was pointing up. The dwarf craned his neck to see to the top of the cliff, but couldn’t make out anything other than the tree branches. And the darkness.

“I don’t know if I can climb that,” the dwarf said.

“It’s easy! See?” With a leap, Dasher sprung to the cliff wall. As easily as whistling, he scaled it, disappearing into the dark. He came back down.

“I’m afraid I’m not as nimble as you, Dasher,” the dwarf said.

“Nonsense,” Dasher said. “All you have to do is grab onto those cracks in the stone, see?”

“I think so,” the dwarf said. “I won’t be as fast as you.”

“Take your time,” Dasher said. “Maybe you’ll have a better time if you empty your pockets.”

“My pockets?”

“Sure. You can hand them over to me, if you like,” Dasher said.

The dwarf put a protective hand over his coat. “No, that won’t be necessary.”

He ran to the wall. Bumps and knobs stuck out all over the wall. They were small, but he was able to find them. Slowly, he moved up the cliff. He was sweating with effort. Dasher scrambled up past him, urging him on.

The darkness closed in around the dwarf. It felt like a million eyes were watching him. The air was close and warm. But also cold. He thought he heard voices all around him. He did not like what they were saying.

Pressing his eyes shut, he kept climbing. Something snagged his coat. The dwarf needed to pull it free, but he didn’t want to let go of the wall. Gritting his teeth, he let go with his left hand. He grabbed the corner of his coat and pulled. It felt like something was holding onto it. But it came free. The dwarf grabbed the rock again and climbed faster.

When he reached the top, he was cover in dirt. The dwarf collapsed across the flat, rocky ground. Light poured over him like a waterfall. He saw Dasher at the edge of the hill.

“You did it! I knew you could, friend,” Dasher said. He pointed further away.

“The road stretches that way. Care to take a look?”

Slowly, the dwarf got up and walked over to the edge of the hill. The land beyond was rough, full of caves and stony projections. Further away, though, it seemed nice. There even seemed to be a long road, stretching on for miles. The small dwarf could almost see houses. But they were too small.

“As I see it, we can go one of two ways,” Dasher said. “The Great Road goes North and South, past the Rock Valley.”

“Which way did the man and his daughter go?” the dwarf asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Dasher said. “Wherever there’s life.”

“Not much of that left,” the dwarf said.

“But they wouldn’t waste their time going to another abandoned town, would they?” Dasher said.

“I think I see a town, that way,” the dwarf said.

“Ah, but are there people there? Is it dead, like the last one?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“If only we had a way to see it better,” Dasher said. “We shouldn’t waste all our time going there, just to be disappointed.”

“I know!” From his pocket, the dwarf produced the binoculars he found at the man’s house.

“My goodness, looking glasses,” Dasher said. “You are full of surprises.”

The dwarf looked at the land ahead through the binoculars. The tops of the houses were big and crisp. He thought he saw a thin line of smoke coming out of a chimney. But he saw no people.

“There might be people there,” the dwarf said. “Somebody’s cooking. I see smoke.”

“No, that’s not smoke,” Dasher said. “It’s just dust, kicked up by the wind.”

“No, I think it’s smoke.”

“Let me see.” Dasher held out his hand for the binoculars. The dwarf held them back.

“No, these are mine.”

“Why won’t you let me use them?” Dasher demanded.

“They were left for me,” the dwarf said. “I can’t give them up.”

“All I want to do is use them for just a moment,” Dasher said. “Why are you being so selfish?”

“I’m not selfish, I’m just careful.”

“Give me the glasses, you little thief!” Dasher snarled at the dwarf. His face twisted into a gruesome scowl.

“No!”

Dasher moved closer to him.

“What else do you have hiding in your pockets? Did you find it? Did you find the gem?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the dwarf said.

“Don’t lie to me.” The dwarf turned to run, but there was nowhere to go.

Dasher howled as he pounced.

To be continued…

The King of Thieves? Part 2

Catch up with Part 1

Thadeus had left the palace. He was feeling pretty good about it. That poor sap, Menus, would be filling in for him while he’s out on an adventure. Heck, he might never go back. Let the kid enjoy being king for a while. He can’t do that bad a job, after all.

The moon was glittering high in the midnight sky. Thadeus gazed at it a long time. He had forgotten how beautiful the moon was. Why did it look different from the one he saw out his palace windows?

It’s because he was looking at the moon a free man.

He took a deep breath. The air was clear and cold. It chilled his lungs. Thadeus tightened the rough tunic around his chest as he marched down a narrow street.

There were people about. His kind of people. People that had no place to be, so they were just out in the middle of the night. People who wouldn’t be missed at jobs in the morning. People who wouldn’t mind sharing in a bit of mischief. Or a lot.

The Very Bad Detective, Part 3

Catch up with Part 1 and Part 2.

Maxwell Brogue stood in the interrogation room. Chained to the table was one Timothy Shanks, a.k.a.: Crooked Timmy. Detective Grimes ceased her pacing when she saw Maxwell. A slight smile grew on her face. The tall Detective Hatts was in a corner, leaning against the wall.

“Oh boy, are you in trouble now, Tim,” Hatts said, straightening up. He walked over to the man in handcuffs. Leaning in, he pointed to Maxwell. “See that man there? He’s the one who busted this case wide open. He found your hammer in the floorboards.”

Crooked Timmy looked up at Maxwell with bloodshot, beady eyes. His expression was hard and violent.

“You wouldn’t be in here right now if it weren’t for him,” Hatts said.

Tim’s face got harder.

“Who are you?” he asked Maxwell.

“This is the city’s finest private detective,” Grimes said. “Max Brogue.”

“Heh, you need a private dick?” Crooked Timmy said. “That’s pretty pathetic, detectives.”

“Keep laughing, Tim,” Hatts said. “A few minutes with Brogue here, you’ll be singing like a bird.”

“Show ‘em what you got, Max,” Grimes said.

A Small, Sad Dwarf Part 4

Catch up on the story: Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3

The small sad dwarf left the old house and the burnout valley. What waits for him beyond?

The small, sad dwarf climbed up the burnt old ridge. He was right, there was grass on the other side.

In fact, the land sloped down into a bright green valley. He hadn’t seen anything so green, in such a long time. The land rolled away in rolling hills of grass. The sky was clear, with only a few traces of the marching army.

The stars faded as the sky blushed and became blue. A golden ball of bright light climbed up a far away line of mountains. The dwarf could see a long way, for the first time in a while.

Excited, he hurried down the slope into the awaiting grassland. The air smelled fresh and clean. He thought he heard the chirping of… birds? Yes, they were called birds. He looked around but couldn’t see any.

Climbing up from the ground were big, gnarly things. Small pieces of gree clung to their crooked arms. For a second, the dwarf thought they were people, frozen forever. But on closer examination, he realized there was nothing to fear. These things were supposed to be stuck in the ground.

The dwarf walked under them, enjoying the shade they provided from the rising ball of light. When the wind blew between their arms, there was a soft rustle. He liked that sound, though as a dwarf, he hadn’t grown up hearing it.

He walked for a while beneath the gnarled, greeny things. They were thick beside him. The ground, he realized, was flat and even. Very easy to walk on. It was almost as if someone places stones in a long, straight line, to make it easier to walk.

Wasn’t there a name for that? He had to think about it.

He suddenly forgot about all that when he reached a break in the gnarled things. The land spread out under the blue sky. Rising up in front of him was a great many houses.

The dwarf has reached the edge of a town.

The King of Thieves? Part 1

Thadeus, the King of Thieves, sat on his gold, ornate throne. It was a gaudy thing, his throne. But it was made of just a portion of his accumulated wealth. Gems, filigree, weapons, and even a bit of leather went into the chair. After three decades of thievery, one has a lot to show for his labors.

It was late at night and Thadeus couldn’t sleep. He stared out a window, watching the moon slowly sink behind the city skyline. The entertainers had come and gone. The women of his harem were asleep… somewhere in the palace. For his many trinkets and toys, the King of Thieves was bored.

Sitting back in his throne, he remembered the good ol’ days. The days when he was a young lad with no coin to speak of. The days when a sharp knife and a distracted mark was all he needed. He never killed his victims, just made sure their purses dropped from their belts with relative ease.

And silence. That’s the key. To be a good thief, you had to be silent.

Which was not the case for the man who was climbing into Thadeus’ throne room. He stumbled through the open window, in full view of the throne. He clanged against a pile of jewels, knocking over a bronze tray. Honestly, this boy needed to get his act together.

The Very Bad Detective, Part 2

Catch up with Part 1.

The officers were lined up along the hallway. Their heads were erect. Some of them had smiles on their faces. But most had an appropriately stern, but satisfied, look. The front door of the police station swung open. A bit of the lashing rain fell inside. Marching into the building were Detective Hatts and Grimes.

Between them was a large man, bound in handcuffs. His face was pinched and angry. The expression could have curdled milk. The police officers glared at the brute as he walked passed. Hatts and Grimes pushed the man along, serious as headstones. But they did allow the occasional wink and smile at their colleagues. At one point, Hatts indulged in a high-five.

The police watched as the detectives marched the man to a holding cell. They waited until the cell door clanked shut, before bursting into cheers. One of the grisliest murders the city had ever seen. And their own detectives brought in the culprit.

Maxwell Brogue missed the moment. He was in the bathroom.