The
pristine white snow shrank underneath Rigmarole R.'s black heavy leather boots
as she walked out into her frigid backyard. The date was January 21, 2020 and
the position of Prime Minister of England had just been appointed to Mr.
Sherlock Holmes, a man of the people and a man of change. In his first day in
office, he made a decree that all citizens of England were to have a skin
pigment change in order to make a visible sign of who was or wasn't a citizen
of England. Your skin color described two things about you, your occupation,
and if you had served in the British military. Rigmarole's color was royal blue
with a slight hint of gorgeous flickers of gold. The blue showed her
occupation, botany, the study of plants, and the flecks of gold embedded in her
skin represented her military time as a colonel in the army. The first thing
that she thought of after the surgery was that she looked like a mishap at
Willy Wonka's factory. But she had grown to tolerate her abnormal visage.
She examined her surroundings, a habit she had
picked up from her many years at war, but never truly had used since, and then
bent down to check on her newest abnormal
plant find. The frozen beauty was called the Kerouac plant, and was
rumored to have magical qualities. The largest being that if it was taken
proper care of and produced its first fruit, it would bequeath a golden nugget
underneath its roots. However, the plant could only thrive in the coldest
winter climate. Rigmarole looked at the plant. It had a beautifully tragic looking gray flower, covered in dew
and freshly fallen snow. But betwixt the petals of the dim flower, a small,
fire-engine red fruit was hidden. A playful, giddy smile lit up Rigmarole's
face and she went in search of a shovel. She carefully dug up the plant, being
sure to keep the roots secure and intact, just in case of any issues and placed
the Kerouac into a pot suitable for this fine specimen. She then looked into
the hole and saw a glimmering lump of gold smiling back at her. She reached
into the chasm and snatched up her prize, hoisting it into the air, eyes locked
onto this spectacular treasure. Then she heard a disgusting noise, like a man
clearing his throat with disturbing force. Her eyes darted over in the
direction of the hideous noise.
“Hello, my dear.” The creature that
made the noise declared.
It was a small man with orange curly
hair and a wispy beard of the same bright shade. He was wearing an all green
ensemble that consisted of a top hat, a suit, and buckled, pointy-toed shoes.
“Who are you?” Rigmarole asked with a
confused and disturbed look on her face.
“My name is Young Neil. I am here to
collect your stolen gold that you hold in your hand. You see, I am a
leprechaun. Now could you give me my gold please? I don't have all day.” He
replied in an Irish dialect.
“Your gold?!” Rigmarole shouted, “I
have taken care of this plant for three years. What makes you think that you
deserve it? I'm the one who worked for it! And what makes you think I'll give
it to you? You can't do anything to me, you're what? Three feet tall?”
He chuckled at her question. “Can't do
anything hmm?” he retorted. Then he began to grow taller. He soon towered over
Rigmarole's house and his small chuckle turned into booming, sinister laughter.
“My dear Rigmarole,” he whispered under his breath, “I can grow to any size and
have done awful things to many people for less important reasons than your
precious golden nugget. I would not cross me if I were you dear.” A speck of
his saliva had launched from his lips during his speech and landed on
Rigmarole's forehead, and in that one instant her entire face had changed from
her abnormal shade to its
original shade of alabaster white. Her facial expressions had changed from
dazed and confused to furiously angry and disgusted in a matter of seconds and
Young Neil just continued his laughing while he shrank back to his original
size.
“My dear I have a proposition for you.
I know of a riddle, and if you answer the riddle, you may keep the gold,
however, if you choose not to answer, or answer incorrectly, I will keep the
gold for myself.” He said, with a sly secret in his eyes.
“Do your worst.” She replied.
“Very well, What is greater than God,
more evil than the devil, the poor have it, the rich need it, and when you eat
it, you die?” He asked.
She racked her mind for the answer,
but could find nothing. Wait a second, she thought, nothing is greater than
God, nothing is more evil than the devil, the poor have nothing, the rich need
nothing, and when you eat nothing, you die!
“The answer is nothing!” She
exclaimed, proud of herself.
“Well done my dear,” he uttered
through his teeth, “however, I cannot let you keep the gold. I suppose I lied.
Aw shucks.” He said flatly and without feeling.
Rigmarole's head felt as if it were about to burst, and her
eyes stared daggers at this demon standing before her. How dare this thing show
up at her home, lie to her, and try to steal her hard earned treasure! Well she
was about to show this hideous monster who was boss. She thought of the war,
and her training, and what her golden sheen that had been so rudely taken from
her represented. She stood with her head held high and her chest out and
approached Young Neil. She then bashed her clenched fist against his head, with
so much force that it knocked him down to the snowy ground. She looked at his
small body lying in the snow with her balled fists poised on either side of her
face, prepared for a brutal fight. The disgruntled leprechaun looked up at her
and tried to stand up and face her. She rushed over to his cold and crumpled
body and took his head between her hands she looked him deep in his eyes and
snapped his neck.
Rigmarole woke up the next day with
her golden treasure right where she had left it the night before. She wanted to
shut out the memory of the events of the previous day entirely, but she also
needed to find out a way to dispose of the remains of Young Neil. She made her
way outside to find the shovel in order to bury the leprechaun's body, but when
she stepped outside, there was no body to be found. The only abnormal things
that could be seen in the snow-laden ground were the two golden letters
engraved in the earth “YN” and the Kerouac plant with pulsating bright gold
beams of light around it. Then Rigmarole heard the disgusting sound yet again,
and three terrifying words. “Hello my dear.”
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