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Goon's Hallow

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There is a place in the forest where the path finally dwindles into a dismal place called
Goon’s Hallow. The trees are bent and blackened from the ashen wind that sweeps through
them. The ground is cold and cracked and gives no sign on life. With each tentative footstep
spirals of brown dust leap into the gray sky. The only evidence of life in the colorless world are
the mournful cries of the Goon.
He hides in the black cloak of night. Living on the edge of the world he once knew. His
shame and his pride have trapped him in a prison of his own making. If he could only tell his
story. Let the world know why. She never gave him a chance. The Good Fairy stole his face and
his life along with it.
“Look at me, look what she did to me! Hideoush!” The Goon paces in front of the small
puddle left from the morning’s rain. “I didn’t desherve thish! I wash a good bunny!” Every sound
The Goon made was obstructed by his gnarled teeth. A soft whistle could be heard throughout
the hallow from his nonsensical mutterings. “It wash thoshe Field Mice! Damn the Good Fairy!
Damn her!” Although he hated the Good Fairy with everything in him, it was the rain he hated
the most. This simple, unavoidable act of nature caused him the most misery. Every puddle was like a mirror of his disfigured face. Teeth sticking out in all directions, his once long, straight,
beautiful ears now hang loose and twisted at the sides of his face. Red beady eyes look out from underneath a heavy brow. Dark green, blotchy skin hangs loosely from his hunched frame. A ghastly sight.
“Little Bunny Foo Foo, hopping through the forest...” The song reached The Goon’s ears. “. ..Scooping up The Field Mice, and bopping them on the head...”
“No, NO NO NO NO! Shtop shinging that shong!” The Goon limped out from behind a
tree.
“…And along came the Good Fairy, and she said....”
“NO!” The Goon started hitting himself in the head. “No, Shtop it. Pleash, pleash.” Tears
fell from his small eyes. His tears forming another puddle to see himself in. He fell to the cold ground writhing in pain, the song penetrating his unstable mind.
“…Little Bunny Foo Foo, I don’t want to see you...”
The singing faded away. The Goon remained where he was. Quietly sobbing himself to
sleep. And so it went. His world, just out reach. They pass him by, they laugh, and they live. While he lives in exile.
“...Scooping up the field mice, and bopping them on the head...”
***********************************
Strolling through the forest. Showing off the wonder that he is. The sunshine is shining down on his plush snow-white fur. He was somebody. The Field Mice scurried around his perfect feet, singing his praises. He did it all on his own, everything. He really was better than everyone else.
Suddenly, the scene shifts. Once again he is in the desolate landscape of Goon’s Hallow. Drowning in a reflection of his own gruesome face, he drifted into blackness.
“…Three chances…”
The Goon woke up in a sweat. There was a new presence in his hallow; he could feel it. “ They’ve come to laugh at me!” The Goon hobbled to his once lucky feet. “I can’t have thish. Not thish. I’ll shtop it. I’ll shtop it oncshe and for all!” He raised his fists to the sky as it started to rain.
He ran madly through the twisted trees, shaking all over. Wildly grabbing at branches, he screamed at them. “Sho, you thought you’d come at laugh at the Goon, huh? You thought you could get away with thish?” He snapped them in half. Manic laughter rang through all of the forest.
“Goon? Are you okay?” The small voice came from behind him. The Goon turned. He was frothing at the mouth. In one quick movement, The Goon grabbed the small Field Mouse in his hand. His gnarled teeth sank into the soft fur of his enemy.
He left the lifeless body on the cracked earth. The skies poured down harder than ever before. The thunder finally drowning out the insane laughter of The Goon. Passing a puddle, The Goon looked at himself. The blood of the innocent Field Mouse dripped off his chin. With a smile, he turned away into the night. He knew what he was capable of. “Good Fairy.” That’s all he said.

With the death of their youngest, The Field Mice ran to The Good Fairy.
“He’s done it again!”
“Even as a goon! You said this would stop!”
“He must be penalized!”
“Death! We call for death!”
Their cries filled the air. The Good Fairy looked down on them. The sorrow in her eyes gave them little hope.
“I will do what is necessary.” Her voice lilted down. Even in her age she still held the beauty of youth in her voice. “I will go to him and give him three chances…”
“No! You’ve already done that. It’s time for immediate action!” The father of the murdered Field Mouse stepped to the front of the mob. “All she does is ‘give chances’ we should have disposed of this nuisance when we first had the chance.”
“And are you the one that should lead them? Are you capable of taking a life?” The Good Fairy looked down at The Field Mice with scornful eyes. “I will go see him,” and then she added with hesitation, “And give him three chances, or death.”
The Field Mice agreed to it. They went to their homes, and held their loved ones close. The Goon, it seemed, was no longer in hiding.
The moment the Good Fairy entered the hallow, the Goon knew it. With her presence the earth healed itself. The trees untwisted and bloomed, and the sun pushed away the gray clouds.
“Goon. Show yourself.” Her voice echoed through the hallow and down into every crack, cave, and cavern.
“Yessh Good Fairy?” He crawled out of shadows, shielding his eyes from the sun.
“Why did you do it?” She looked at his bloodstained teeth and stifled a whimper.
“Do what?” The Goon smiled innocently. The Good Fairy’s stomach turned.
“Why, Goon, did you kill that Field Mouse?” The Goon looked at her, the smile still on his ugly face. He started to laugh. “Goon… Foo Foo?” At the sound of his former name, the goon turned toward the fairy, “Foo Foo, you have to stop.”
“Shtop? I have to shtop? What about them? They come onto my land, and shing that awful shong! And you’re telling me to shtop?” The Goon was yelling now. His rage was making him shake. Madly, he grabbed onto The Good Fairy, “You! You did thish! It’sh all your fault! You killed the Field Mouse, not I, Good Fairy. You…” He looked at his reflection in a puddle, “You, did thish. YOU DID THISH!” The Good Fairy tried to get out of his grip, but he was too strong. She looked into his eyes and saw an evil there that she has never seen before.
“Goon! Goon, stop! Please, stop!” She cried out. It was no use. The Goon wouldn’t let go. He just kept yelling at her, at everyone. It started raining again. Everywhere he looked, The Goon saw himself. His grip tightened on the fairy. The rain blurred his vision. He swung out madly at his reflections, cursing them. Then his fist hit something solid. Whatever he was holding in his hand fell to the ground. He looked at The Good Fairy as she cowered beneath him. He could smell the blood as it seeped out of her nose. It smelled good. It smelled like retribution.
He sank down to her level and whispered, “I’ll give you three chanshes.” The Good Fairy looked up at him.
“Wha…?”
“One.”
“No!”
“Two.”
“Please.”
The Goon attacked her, ripping at her beautiful face with his disfigured claws. The blood flowed into the puddles that The Goon despised so much. Red, it’s a new color in his bleak world. One he finds he likes.
“Little Bunny Foo Foo, hopping through the forest…”
The Goon looked up. He heard it. The song whispered around him. It flowed through the hallow.
“…Scooping up the Field Mice…”
It resonated in his head. He couldn’t escape it.
“No! Thish was shupposed to shtop! No. Pleash, no.” The song ebbed forth from every corner of his hallow. It seeped in and around his ankles. It swallowed him whole. He choked on It. Gasping for air, the Goon dropped to his crooked knees. With his last breath he cursed the rain.

The flood came and went, as quickly as the turning of a page. He was washed away into the depths of his prison. The thirsty earth was satisfied.





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bookworm03 said...
Jan. 7, 2011 at 12:48 pm
honestly, i've never read anything so amazing. i mean sure, i have, love stories, etc, but not in this genre of writing. this is completely, absolutely, wonderfully, amazing. you are an amazing writer. i'll admit, it's alot different than anything i've read, which is probably why it's very good. i'm so jealous of you! keep writing! :)
 
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