The Goblin King This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

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How does a human feel when he or she stares down the barrel of a gun? Does their soul crawl away and leave the shell of the body? Does their heart turn to stone and their minds to their happy place flee? Does your soul dance the Totentanz, to the sighing fiddle, and the ghastly cello in the distance?
How does the child run as night engulfs the woods in the night? How doth that pair of little feet run as the snow falls in the sky? How does the mother look as she stares out to sea, praying and hoping for her son’s return from the dark woods? Where does the Goblin King lie, waiting for the child to come to his lair? How doth the mother cry with her cold tears that pierce her skin like knives?
“Mother,” Her child calls, “I’m over here, come to me mother…come to me.”
Why does the mother not move? Why does the fear of the sea keep hold of her? Why do the crashing waves pound the shore and beckon her to come nearer?
“Mother, help me mother, please come to me!”
Why does the Goblin King cry for the mother, and laugh for the child? Why does the child run, his body aching and his heart dying? Why does the mother stare out to the sea, tears in her eyes?
“My mother, my mother, where are you, my mother, please come to me…help me!”
How doth the goblin King smile? Why do his yellow teeth shine in the dark? Why does his hand twitched as the child runs?
“Come to me, child,” He calls, “I’m here for you.”
“Mother, can you hear him calling to me? Help me mother help me!”
How does the snow fall, looking like ballerinas? Why do they cry for the running child, who runs to his mother? Why do they cry at the goblin, who smiles for them?
“Mother, help me, please!”
Why does the mother stare out to sea, with her tear filled eyes? How doth the sea toss and turn, throwing itself upon the rocky shore? Why does the child cry with warm tears? How do those little legs run, carrying the small body forward?
“Mother, help me, the Goblin King is here! Mother…please!”
“Come to me child, come to me…we can play games all day long…come to me…”
“Mother, mother, can you not hear…please help me mother!”
“I’m your mother…come to my child…”
How doth the mother turn so slowly to look out the open door? How doth she stare out into eternity and beyond? How doth the door stay open to the dark woods outside?
“Oh, my mother, please help me…”
“I’m your mother, come to me…”
“Mother! Mother! Please help me mother!”
How does the mother hear her child’s cry in the dark? How does she run into the night storm? How doth she cry every cold tear that comes from her eyes?
“Child, come to me… we’ll play all day long…Come to me…we shall play all day long…”
“Mother help me…please mother help me! The Goblin King is near me, help me mother!”
How doth the snow fall in heavy waves? How does the mother run with her long legs in the air?
“Mother, help me!”
“I’m coming! I’m coming child!”
“I’m here…come to me!”
How does the mother cry when she sees her child? How doth the mother feel as she embraces him? How does the mother cry as she holds him in her arms? How does the mother carry the child back in her arms? How does the Goblin King smile…at the dead child?





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