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I'll be submitting this to a magazine in my graduate-school (BlueInk) and I figured I'd submit an excerpt of the short-story to this website as well. If it's well-recieved by the community, I'll consider putting the full, unedited version soon; I had to shorten the original in order to meet the requirements. Please enjoy and don't hesitate to give any constructive critique as well.
The Golden Clover
- In Loving Memory of Denis C. Ryan –
Michael eased out of the bar and gently pushed himself through the tight spaces within the crowd of burly lads and lassies. He finally made his way to the back, he left the pub through the back door to an open yard. He took in a deep inhalation, breathing in the cool, misty air into his lungs as he felt the salty breeze from the sea touch his skin and enter his nostrils. Michael looked out into the horizon; the sun was just finishing its slow descent on its way into a sunset. It was a warm sensation, casting the sky into warm red, orange, and yellow colors like the autumn midway. From the top sphere, the night was beginning to make its crawl to the earth, mixing its light blues with the sun to make a faint purple along the few clouds traveling along with the gentle wind. As the wind blew past the clouds, the tall blades of grass were also swaying to the side in an almost musical whistling rhythm. It was all very beautiful experience, a memory he would recall of his time in Ireland for years. A trip worth the small inheritance he had spent…
He took a few steps closer to the meadow, watching the green pasture tumble and the tall grass bellowing until the wind began to die down and all was silent. All except a tiny sound:
For a second, he dismissed the sound but as he listened more closely, he heard the sound seem to get sharper. He withdrew a foot and tried to distinguish the sound into something more recognizable. At first it seemed like a small tapping or clicking resembling a cricket, but the more and more he listened, it started to sound more like a hammer against something metal. Michael approached closer to the source, hoping to find whatever creature or object was making that distinctive ringing with blinding curiosity.
Michael crept closer and closer until he was a few feet inside the tall-grassy meadow, pushing back the long strands with his hands as he slid his foot across the ground, making certain not to step on anything. He discovered a circular-like clearing in the field, not particularly wide or large but it seemed to be perfectly spaced out in a circle. Quietly, he crept slower to the clearing and pushed back some of the strands to poke his head out and see for himself what was there.
What appeared to Michael was a miniature person in brown, burlap clothing and wearing a large brown straw-hat, sitting on a tiny chair across an anvil with a hammer. No smaller than a thimble. Michael stood there silently, waiting for the figure to change something he was more accustomed to like a pebble shaped like a person. A few minutes had past, this tiny figure was still pounding at the anvil, and it wasn’t anything else but that. He wasn’t sure how to approach the situation: he could either verify that this was real, assume he was drunk, or he could simply return to the pub.
Taking initiative on the situation, he thought he’d have a closer look and slip pass the reeds; beneath the straw-hat, wrapped in a green ribbon around the contour, that hid its face and most of its body. There were some slender legs poking out of the burlap-patched cloth it wore from the shoulders down to the knee bone, kept together by a black-leather, buckled belt around its small waist. Looped around the belt were some other tools such as knives, tongs, and a long needle with some gold thread near her hip, resembling more like a fencing sword instead. The gold thread was looped around a spool that seemed to be what the figure was seated upon. Finally, at the ends of her legs, her feet were completely caked with mud that it seemed the mud had always been there to begin with. Aside from that, he couldn’t see the face or what the creature was working on top of the anvil.
Michael crouched lower, assuming the creature was aware of his presence and found no need to conceal himself any further. He tried turning his head to look past the hat, to see the creature more or the object in its hands but it seemed elusive moving the hat along with the work, keeping it out from his sight:
“Um…...” mumbled Michael, uncertain how to react to the situation.
“It helps if you give an introduction,” spoke a meek, feminine voice from under the hat. Despite the Irish accent she had, Michael could still distinguish what she was saying.
“Oh? Oh…. OH! Umm, good evening, uh miss? My name is Michael,” he attempted.
“Good evening Mr. Michael,” she answered, “My name is Lavena.”
“Nice to meet you, Lavena…”
“Now, start a polite conversation,” she continued.
“Um, what are you making?” he asked with genuine curiosity.
“I’m making some boots.”
“Oh, yeah… my grandfather use to tell me stories when I was a kid,” started Michael with a fond recollection, “that they’d like to make shoes… but I thought that-”
“Yes, and we’re supposed to wear green clothing and have pots of gold like in those stories too,” she quirked quickly.
“…. Do you?”
“Don’t get smart with me, boy.”
“Oh, sorry…” Michael answered, “… so what types of boots are you making?”
She knew that the only reason he was talking was to get the gold from her, lower her guard and try to trick or force her to reveal the hiding place. She wouldn’t, however, go down easily and so tried to remain calm. But as she was working, her hand continued to shake and slip as the hammer missed its mark. She couldn’t stop from trembling; this was her first time being caught by a human.
“I’m… I’m making a pair of leather-heeled boots…” she mumbled, “I have to finish before dark or else my family will get worried about me. Can you look up and see if the stars have come up yet?”
“Sorry but can’t you tell on your own?”
“…. I’m busy, I can’t stop or else it will take longer…”
“Right, my grandfather told me to never look away when you find a leprechaun. If you blink, then it vanishes, so you need to blink with one eye open at all times…” he answered.
“Your grandfather must’ve be a superstitious man…” she grumbled.
“That’s what I loved about him,” snorted Michael.
She realized the truth, and regretted bringing it up like that. It was awkward for her, being in this position, but she had to say something:
“I’m sorry,” she began, “for your loss.”
“Thanks… it’s nice to get it off my chest. I don’t know whether or not he’d have believed me if I told him I found a leprechaun but… he’d probably laugh at least…”
“Hmmm, would you like a piece of gold to take with you? For a souvenir or as proof?” she asked, trying to expose him.
“Huh, oh, no thank you” he replied, “I was left a small amount of money from my grandfather, it’s actually why I’m here. I used it to take this trip and visit his homeland.”
“Really?” asked Lavena, she looked up past her straw hat. As Michael squinted his eyes to create more focus, he found she had long, blonde locks of hair flowing from out of the brim of her hat. Beneath that golden curtain lay a pale face, speckled with a few brown freckles across a small nose and shimmering light-green eyes. Her pale lips parted as she waited for his answer, breathing lightly as she took a small intervention from her toil:
“Where exactly did you grandfather hail from?”
“Somewhere in Nenagh within Tipperary, I think…” replied Michael begrudgingly.
“You think?” smirked Lavena.
“Yes, I think so” replied Michael, unable to keep himself from smiling back, “that’s why I came, I figured he’d want me to see Ireland before it was too late. Maybe learn about our family heritage… the Guinness and Irish-coffees didn’t hurt either”
“HA, you sound like a proud Irish-man to me,” laughed Lavena, her eyes sparkled for a moment in excitement. She didn’t think she’d enjoy the company, it made the burden easier.
“Can I ask you a favor? Well, it’s more like a question really.”
She knew it; she knew what was going to come next. Her gentle smile fell into a frown but she wasn’t any surprise by this, she was only a little disappointed. She turned back to the leather boot and wondered if it was worth continuing the work or not. When it came down to leprechauns, they were only good for their gold to humans. It didn’t seem like he was particularly bad at all but she shouldn’t have expected more from him.
Lavena’s arms slunk down to her sides, dropping her hammer to the ground, and hand crept to the brim of her hat. She gave a motion, a roll of her hand in the air, to proceed with his question, merely giving a short sigh that could not be heard by Michael.
“Do you know if there are any four-leaf clovers nearby?” blurted Michael.
For a moment, Lavena didn’t move from her spot. His response didn’t seem to register in her mind, she could’ve swore she heard him correctly through. She cocked her head, looking above at an angle, her eyes peeking through the straw.
“I’m sorry… you want to know what?” she asked.
“I… well, it’s just… I thought you might… I don’t know… know where I can find one?” stammered Michael, uncomfortable by Lavena’s dumbfounded tone in her voice and her gawking at him.
“That’s it? You don’t want anything else… no gold?”
“Um… no? You know how much gold is worth in a pawnshop?” he said, thinking of how else he could sell it.
“You just want a clover… not even a wish? You know if you catch me, you get a wish, right?”
“I wouldn’t know what to wish for, even if I COULD catch you” Michael spoke, unable to think of a fool-proof wish. “But yes, please … if you can.”
“…really?”
“… yeah, I’m… you know… I’ve got a… bad luck streak going… so I thought… it would help?”
At that point, Lavena started laughing so hard that microscopic tears were racing down her cheeks; she had nearly fallen off the spool with her hat toppling off alongside. She held her ribs as she began rocking back and fore. It was hard to decide whether he was just sweet or just gullible but in either case, she was happy to have met him at least.
“What?” muttered Michael, blushing at the sound of the seemingly unending laughter. He had regretted ever deciding on talking at all now.
“Nothing,” gasped Lavena, holding her chest as she laughed between words, “if you … continue heading that way… you’ll- you’ll find another o-o-opening in the… meadow!”
She pointed ahead of her as she burst once more, and Michael looked back to where the blades of grass seemed to part ways and found the other open circle through smaller judging by his glance. Then there was silence, no longer any laughter to be heard. He quickly turned his head back but he found nothing else. No hammer, no anvil, no leprechaun in sight. It was as his grandfather told him; as soon as you turn away, they can vanish completely without a trace. It almost felt eerie to him. There was no use in waiting there any longer, and so he got up and began walking to the direction she had pointed. He decided to assess the situation by what he would find; if he found a four-leafed clover, he would know it was all real.
Simple as that.
When he finally got to the clearing, he saw on a tuft of moved dirt, but as he looked onward he thought he noticed something glittering softly. He was caught off-guard, and so looked closer, thinking it was a nail or screw from some machinery. It seemed more and more like a twinkling star until he got on his knees, and began wiping away the layer of dirt covering. His jaw was gape as his eyes were dazzled by the tiny object. It had the shape of clover, branched out into four spaded leaves, but it didn’t appear to be plant-like in nature.
It seemed to have more mineral quality, so beautifully polished as Michael reached down and plucked the rough stem from the earth. As his fingers ran across the surface, it felt warm to the touch, heavy upon his palm, chimed like bell beneath his fingernail, and smooth and metallic as gold should be…
End
The Golden Clover
- In Loving Memory of Denis C. Ryan –
Michael eased out of the bar and gently pushed himself through the tight spaces within the crowd of burly lads and lassies. He finally made his way to the back, he left the pub through the back door to an open yard. He took in a deep inhalation, breathing in the cool, misty air into his lungs as he felt the salty breeze from the sea touch his skin and enter his nostrils. Michael looked out into the horizon; the sun was just finishing its slow descent on its way into a sunset. It was a warm sensation, casting the sky into warm red, orange, and yellow colors like the autumn midway. From the top sphere, the night was beginning to make its crawl to the earth, mixing its light blues with the sun to make a faint purple along the few clouds traveling along with the gentle wind. As the wind blew past the clouds, the tall blades of grass were also swaying to the side in an almost musical whistling rhythm. It was all very beautiful experience, a memory he would recall of his time in Ireland for years. A trip worth the small inheritance he had spent…
He took a few steps closer to the meadow, watching the green pasture tumble and the tall grass bellowing until the wind began to die down and all was silent. All except a tiny sound:
For a second, he dismissed the sound but as he listened more closely, he heard the sound seem to get sharper. He withdrew a foot and tried to distinguish the sound into something more recognizable. At first it seemed like a small tapping or clicking resembling a cricket, but the more and more he listened, it started to sound more like a hammer against something metal. Michael approached closer to the source, hoping to find whatever creature or object was making that distinctive ringing with blinding curiosity.
Michael crept closer and closer until he was a few feet inside the tall-grassy meadow, pushing back the long strands with his hands as he slid his foot across the ground, making certain not to step on anything. He discovered a circular-like clearing in the field, not particularly wide or large but it seemed to be perfectly spaced out in a circle. Quietly, he crept slower to the clearing and pushed back some of the strands to poke his head out and see for himself what was there.
What appeared to Michael was a miniature person in brown, burlap clothing and wearing a large brown straw-hat, sitting on a tiny chair across an anvil with a hammer. No smaller than a thimble. Michael stood there silently, waiting for the figure to change something he was more accustomed to like a pebble shaped like a person. A few minutes had past, this tiny figure was still pounding at the anvil, and it wasn’t anything else but that. He wasn’t sure how to approach the situation: he could either verify that this was real, assume he was drunk, or he could simply return to the pub.
Taking initiative on the situation, he thought he’d have a closer look and slip pass the reeds; beneath the straw-hat, wrapped in a green ribbon around the contour, that hid its face and most of its body. There were some slender legs poking out of the burlap-patched cloth it wore from the shoulders down to the knee bone, kept together by a black-leather, buckled belt around its small waist. Looped around the belt were some other tools such as knives, tongs, and a long needle with some gold thread near her hip, resembling more like a fencing sword instead. The gold thread was looped around a spool that seemed to be what the figure was seated upon. Finally, at the ends of her legs, her feet were completely caked with mud that it seemed the mud had always been there to begin with. Aside from that, he couldn’t see the face or what the creature was working on top of the anvil.
Michael crouched lower, assuming the creature was aware of his presence and found no need to conceal himself any further. He tried turning his head to look past the hat, to see the creature more or the object in its hands but it seemed elusive moving the hat along with the work, keeping it out from his sight:
“Um…...” mumbled Michael, uncertain how to react to the situation.
“It helps if you give an introduction,” spoke a meek, feminine voice from under the hat. Despite the Irish accent she had, Michael could still distinguish what she was saying.
“Oh? Oh…. OH! Umm, good evening, uh miss? My name is Michael,” he attempted.
“Good evening Mr. Michael,” she answered, “My name is Lavena.”
“Nice to meet you, Lavena…”
“Now, start a polite conversation,” she continued.
“Um, what are you making?” he asked with genuine curiosity.
“I’m making some boots.”
“Oh, yeah… my grandfather use to tell me stories when I was a kid,” started Michael with a fond recollection, “that they’d like to make shoes… but I thought that-”
“Yes, and we’re supposed to wear green clothing and have pots of gold like in those stories too,” she quirked quickly.
“…. Do you?”
“Don’t get smart with me, boy.”
“Oh, sorry…” Michael answered, “… so what types of boots are you making?”
She knew that the only reason he was talking was to get the gold from her, lower her guard and try to trick or force her to reveal the hiding place. She wouldn’t, however, go down easily and so tried to remain calm. But as she was working, her hand continued to shake and slip as the hammer missed its mark. She couldn’t stop from trembling; this was her first time being caught by a human.
“I’m… I’m making a pair of leather-heeled boots…” she mumbled, “I have to finish before dark or else my family will get worried about me. Can you look up and see if the stars have come up yet?”
“Sorry but can’t you tell on your own?”
“…. I’m busy, I can’t stop or else it will take longer…”
“Right, my grandfather told me to never look away when you find a leprechaun. If you blink, then it vanishes, so you need to blink with one eye open at all times…” he answered.
“Your grandfather must’ve be a superstitious man…” she grumbled.
“That’s what I loved about him,” snorted Michael.
She realized the truth, and regretted bringing it up like that. It was awkward for her, being in this position, but she had to say something:
“I’m sorry,” she began, “for your loss.”
“Thanks… it’s nice to get it off my chest. I don’t know whether or not he’d have believed me if I told him I found a leprechaun but… he’d probably laugh at least…”
“Hmmm, would you like a piece of gold to take with you? For a souvenir or as proof?” she asked, trying to expose him.
“Huh, oh, no thank you” he replied, “I was left a small amount of money from my grandfather, it’s actually why I’m here. I used it to take this trip and visit his homeland.”
“Really?” asked Lavena, she looked up past her straw hat. As Michael squinted his eyes to create more focus, he found she had long, blonde locks of hair flowing from out of the brim of her hat. Beneath that golden curtain lay a pale face, speckled with a few brown freckles across a small nose and shimmering light-green eyes. Her pale lips parted as she waited for his answer, breathing lightly as she took a small intervention from her toil:
“Where exactly did you grandfather hail from?”
“Somewhere in Nenagh within Tipperary, I think…” replied Michael begrudgingly.
“You think?” smirked Lavena.
“Yes, I think so” replied Michael, unable to keep himself from smiling back, “that’s why I came, I figured he’d want me to see Ireland before it was too late. Maybe learn about our family heritage… the Guinness and Irish-coffees didn’t hurt either”
“HA, you sound like a proud Irish-man to me,” laughed Lavena, her eyes sparkled for a moment in excitement. She didn’t think she’d enjoy the company, it made the burden easier.
“Can I ask you a favor? Well, it’s more like a question really.”
She knew it; she knew what was going to come next. Her gentle smile fell into a frown but she wasn’t any surprise by this, she was only a little disappointed. She turned back to the leather boot and wondered if it was worth continuing the work or not. When it came down to leprechauns, they were only good for their gold to humans. It didn’t seem like he was particularly bad at all but she shouldn’t have expected more from him.
Lavena’s arms slunk down to her sides, dropping her hammer to the ground, and hand crept to the brim of her hat. She gave a motion, a roll of her hand in the air, to proceed with his question, merely giving a short sigh that could not be heard by Michael.
“Do you know if there are any four-leaf clovers nearby?” blurted Michael.
For a moment, Lavena didn’t move from her spot. His response didn’t seem to register in her mind, she could’ve swore she heard him correctly through. She cocked her head, looking above at an angle, her eyes peeking through the straw.
“I’m sorry… you want to know what?” she asked.
“I… well, it’s just… I thought you might… I don’t know… know where I can find one?” stammered Michael, uncomfortable by Lavena’s dumbfounded tone in her voice and her gawking at him.
“That’s it? You don’t want anything else… no gold?”
“Um… no? You know how much gold is worth in a pawnshop?” he said, thinking of how else he could sell it.
“You just want a clover… not even a wish? You know if you catch me, you get a wish, right?”
“I wouldn’t know what to wish for, even if I COULD catch you” Michael spoke, unable to think of a fool-proof wish. “But yes, please … if you can.”
“…really?”
“… yeah, I’m… you know… I’ve got a… bad luck streak going… so I thought… it would help?”
At that point, Lavena started laughing so hard that microscopic tears were racing down her cheeks; she had nearly fallen off the spool with her hat toppling off alongside. She held her ribs as she began rocking back and fore. It was hard to decide whether he was just sweet or just gullible but in either case, she was happy to have met him at least.
“What?” muttered Michael, blushing at the sound of the seemingly unending laughter. He had regretted ever deciding on talking at all now.
“Nothing,” gasped Lavena, holding her chest as she laughed between words, “if you … continue heading that way… you’ll- you’ll find another o-o-opening in the… meadow!”
She pointed ahead of her as she burst once more, and Michael looked back to where the blades of grass seemed to part ways and found the other open circle through smaller judging by his glance. Then there was silence, no longer any laughter to be heard. He quickly turned his head back but he found nothing else. No hammer, no anvil, no leprechaun in sight. It was as his grandfather told him; as soon as you turn away, they can vanish completely without a trace. It almost felt eerie to him. There was no use in waiting there any longer, and so he got up and began walking to the direction she had pointed. He decided to assess the situation by what he would find; if he found a four-leafed clover, he would know it was all real.
Simple as that.
When he finally got to the clearing, he saw on a tuft of moved dirt, but as he looked onward he thought he noticed something glittering softly. He was caught off-guard, and so looked closer, thinking it was a nail or screw from some machinery. It seemed more and more like a twinkling star until he got on his knees, and began wiping away the layer of dirt covering. His jaw was gape as his eyes were dazzled by the tiny object. It had the shape of clover, branched out into four spaded leaves, but it didn’t appear to be plant-like in nature.
It seemed to have more mineral quality, so beautifully polished as Michael reached down and plucked the rough stem from the earth. As his fingers ran across the surface, it felt warm to the touch, heavy upon his palm, chimed like bell beneath his fingernail, and smooth and metallic as gold should be…
End
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