The Gnome (standard:horror, 2225 words)
Author: Hulsey	Added: Jun 16 2002	Views/Reads: 4199/2635	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A young boy purchases a gnome but is it really responsible for the strange occurrences?

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

There were several ornamental figures surrounding the pond, but one had 
her undivided attention. 

“Ben! Have you been messing around with the pond?” 

“No, Mummy.” 

“Don't tell fibs, Ben. I specifically placed that ugly gnome facing away
from the house. That I let you talk me into buying the monstrosity was 
a mistake, but I'm not facing that ugly mug every time I look out of my 
window.” 

The flamingo replaced the gnome, who was now facing the wooden fence. 

“There, that's better. Don't stay in the sun too long, Ben; you know it
gives you freckles.” 

The young boy brought the Brazilian keeper up close to his eyes and
shook his head. “You did move, didn't you?” His eyes turned to the 
pond, to see that the gnome had once more changed positions with the 
flamingo. 

“How did you do that?” 

Ben clambered to his feet and dropped his toy, when the gnome smiled and
winked at him. He turned and ran to the house, screaming for his 
mother. 

The garden was illuminated by the security light, when the two youths
peered through the shed window. Their intrusion was planned, and their 
ignorance of the light was due to their over-abundant alcohol 
consumption. They tampered with the padlock before abandoning their 
efforts, cursing beneath their breath at the thought of leaving empty 
handed. They fared no better when they tried desperately to unscrew the 
hinges, only to find that they had been secured with permanent screws. 

“Shit!” Moaned one of the youths. 

They tried in vain to gain entry to the house, but again security locks
foiled them. They approached the pond and the large, shaven-headed 
trespasser picked up the ornamental flamingo and threw it against the 
fence, laughing hysterically as it smashed into a thousand pieces. His 
pimple-faced, shorter companion did the same with a kingfisher, before 
kicking out at the wishing well and plummeting it into the depths of 
the pond. 

“Look at this ugly bastard,” said pimples, as he reached for the gnome. 

The security light flashed on and off rapidly, which interrupted their
uncalled for vandalism. A low groan filled the garden and the thugs 
looked to each other. 

“What the hell's that?” asked the taller one. 

The intensity of the groans increased, when numerous shadows covered the
lawn, moving around in circles, as the two intruders retreated slowly 
backwards. The flashing light that was flickering rapidly, played 
tricks with their eyes, as the shadows moved across the lawn towards 
them. They scrambled over the five-foot fence and sprinted away from 
the garden, afraid to look over their shoulder. 

The gnome was standing by the pond, his fishing rod dangling in the
disturbed water, the tears streaming down his eyes. 

The next morning, Harry spent an hour fixing the barbed wire to the top
of the fence, before standing back and admiring his handiwork. “That'll 
keep the bastards out,” he said, feeling a comforting arm encircle his 
waist and the soft lips kiss his neck. 

“Whatever will I do without you, Harry?” 

“I want you and the young sprog to feel safe when I'm away on the rigs,
Jan. They'll think twice before trying to get in here.” 

Ben tried to eliminate the voice of his mother's lover, as he played on
the lawn with his cars. He knew what to expect at any given time. 

Harry frowned. “What have you done to this lawn, Jan? I'll apply some
weed-killer later this evening.” 

“You know I'm not one for gardening,” 

she said sadly, picking up the pieces of her smashed ornaments. “Ben,
have you moved that bloody gnome again?” 

“No, Mummy, it moves by itself.” 

“What a kid,” uttered Harry, shaking his head. 

Harry and Jan lay on their sun loungers, whilst Ben pushed his sailing
boat across the pond. An occasional disagreeable glance was cast in the 
direction of the two adults, when they held hands and kissed. Harry 
applied more sun cream to the back of Ben's mother, and the young boy 
felt a touch of jealousy at the outsider, who he had grown to detest, 
with just cause. 

Ben turned back to his boat, and rubbed his eyes in amazement, as he saw
one of the goldfish tugging on the line of the gnome. Before he could 
say anything, the gnome reeled in the large goldfish and swallowed it, 
before letting out a loud burp. 

“Mum! Mum! The gnome has eaten one of your goldfish.” 

“Yes, Ben; now play quietly. Be a good boy.” 

The welcoming sound of the ice cream van interrupted the tranquil
garden, and Jan reached for her purse and exited the back gate. Harry 
sat up and scowled at the small boy, his bare chest glistening with 
perspiration. “No more bloody lies, you little bastard, do you hear 
me?” 

Ben's breathing was laboured, as the ominous man approached him slowly,
a roll-up dangling from his lips. 

“Did you hear what I said, you little shit?” 

Ben nodded frantically. 

“Here you are, Ben. This should cool you down,” said his mother,
returning with a large ice cone. 

Harry stooped down and rubbed Ben's head, as he cowered. “We were just
having a man to man conversation, weren't we, Benny boy?” 

Harry and Jan returned to their loungers, and Ben turned to the gnome.
“What is your name?” 

He unsurprisingly received no response. He shrugged his shoulders and
walked towards the house. As he passed the sun-worshipping adults, his 
ice cream soared through the air and landed on the cleavage of his 
mother, who let out an ear-splitting scream. 

“Ben! That's not funny!” 

Ben's eyes turned towards Harry, who grimaced. “It wasn't me, honest.” 

Jan wiped away the ice cream. “No, so who was it then; the Brazilian
keeper or Wayne bloody Rooney?” 

“It was the gnome.” 

“Ben, I'm sick of hearing about that bloody gnome. Go to your room and
stay there until you learn to stop lying.” 

He ran indoors crying, but not before glancing over his shoulder at the
mischievous gnome, who winked at him. 

Jan loved her son dearly, and the next day all was forgotten. As per
usual, he played in the garden with his toy figures, his bare, red 
shoulders sore with the unrelenting sun. It was such a beautiful day 
and the birds were in full song. The vibrant butterflies, as well as 
the pollen-seeking bees visited the garden, mingling with the 
carnations, roses, geraniums and other colourful blooms. 

Jan kissed her son on the cheek. “I'm off to the fitness club. I'll be
no more than two hours. You two will be okay, won't you? There's a 
salad for your lunch and a jug of lemonade in the fridge.” 

Ben dropped his toy figure when he heard the words he dreaded. “You go
and enjoy yourself, luv. Benny and I will be just fine, won't we?” 
smirked Harry. 

Ben entered the shed and took out his football, before kicking it around
the garden. In his fantasy world, he attempted to blank out the man on 
the lounger, who was watching him attentively. 

“Rooney to Gerard, back to Owen, who knocks it to Lampard. Lampard takes
a shot and he scores! Yesssss!” 

Ben froze when he watched the ball bounce towards the sweet peas, as if
in slow motion. The ball hit the netting and it dislodged from the 
fence, the display of flowers flopping to the ground lifelessly. He had 
given Harry the opportunity that he had been waiting for. 

“You little shit! What've you done to my bloody sweet peas?” 

As the irate man passed, Ben closed his eyes, knowing what was to come.
He felt the sharp blow to his ear and fell to the turf, the tears 
flowing. His ear stung so badly, and the touch of his hand made him 
grimace. 

He raised his head and heard out of his good ear, Harry cursing, as he
tried to erect the netting, threading the droopy blooms through the 
mesh. Ten minutes later, the task was completed, but Harry was drenched 
in sweat, his lank, long brown hair pasted to his forehead. 

Ben, who was terrified, stared towards the tattoos on his assailant's
arms; the gruesome designs never failing to frighten him. Harry was now 
standing over the cowering boy and aimed a powerful kick to his 
stomach. Ben rolled about on the lawn, holding his stomach and 
screaming loudly. 

“Shut up! Shut up; do you here me, bastard?” 

Harry stooped over the sobbing boy and reached out for his hair, pulling
it back and forth violently. “And we know what you can expect if you 
tell your mother, don't you?” 

A whooshing sound interrupted their conflict, and Ben watched, as Harry
clutched at his throat. The fishing line cut into his red neck, and he 
was forced onto his back by the tugging of the rod. Ben's eyes followed 
the line and watched in disbelief, when the gnome planted his rod into 
the turf and walked towards the stricken bully. His walk was more of a 
waddle, his arms swinging from side to side. The gnome entered the 
shed, as Harry's frightened eyes swivelled towards him, unsure what to 
make of the spectacle. He was unable to move, for every effort to break 
free resulted in the line cutting deeper into his flesh. 

The gnome returned with a watering can, and Harry's bulging eyes
confirmed that he was aware of what the container held. The gnome was 
now standing over Harry, and he proceeded to sprinkle the contents of 
the watering can over his mouth. Harry's lips stubbornly stayed closed, 
until the smiling gnome pinched his nose. Harry gargled and kicked his 
feet wildly, when the weed-killer was flushed into his stomach. 

Ben stepped back, rubbing his eyes at what he was witnessing. The last
of the weed-killer trickled from the watering can and Harry was still. 
The gnome released the fishing line from his neck and returned to the 
pond, taking up his previous position. 

Ben looked down at the dead man; his neck devoid of wounds, as if they
had been wiped clean, and his tongue was protruding from his mouth. The 
youngster looked towards the gnome and was rewarded with a wink. Ben 
rubbed his ear and giggled, his pain no longer of consequence. 

Suicide was the official verdict, but why this man had suddenly decided
to end his life by drinking weed-killer was a mystery. Jan soon got 
over him and married a wonderful man, who was also fond of Ben. Who the 
gnome was remained a mystery to Ben, and even as an old man, he ensured 
that the gnome had his favourite spot by the pond. After all, he was 
his guardian angel, wasn't he? 


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