Goblin Fruit

by S. E. Burr

  Dad nodded. “It looks like we’ll be managing things around here by ourselves for a little while.

  “I can help out,” said Mom. “I’d be happy to.”

  Audrey looked up from her plate. “I can too…if you want.”

  Looking at her, Dad sighed. “Are you having cravings?” he asked.

  It was the elephant in the room. As Natalie waited for her daughter to answer, there was real fear in her eyes.

  Audrey hesitated before finally nodding. “Yes, sir. Like you wouldn’t believe.”

  Mrs. Ortiz closed her eyes, and I could tell she was fighting for control. The revelations of the day—that someone, my mother, had been cured of catatonia, and that the goblin fruit manufacturer had finally been discovered—gave her some hope, but I could tell that she was terrified for her daughter.

  Dad watched Audrey for a moment and then turned to me. “And what about you?”

  “No,” I said, and that was the truth. “I never want anything to do with it again. It was horrible.”

  “Your lack of cravings may be a result of the genetic trait Nick talked about,” Dad said. “The drug works differently for everyone.”

  He looked at Audrey. “You’re very lucky, amazingly lucky, that they found the source of the drug. You hold out a few days and there won’t be any goblin fruit to be had at any price. You’ll be uncomfortable, but you’ll be safe.”

  Natalie nodded, looking calmer. “Oh, she’ll hold out,” she said. “I’ll make sure of it.”

  Dad smiled and took a bite of his food. We all returned to our food, eating in silence.

  Finally, he turned back to Audrey. “We’ll be happy to have your help. Goodness knows things are going to get crazy around here when we inform the press that someone’s come out of catatonia.”

  I choked and coughed, taking a sip of water. “You’re going to tell them?”

  “The world needs to know that someone’s been cured, that a cure is possible. Studies need to be done.”

  “But if there’s no more goblin fruit…”

  He shrugged. “The government seized enough of the drug to supply any number of studies.”

  “But who’s going to sacrifice…” I began.

  He shook his head. “Clarity what you did horrifies me. It makes me feel sick.”

  I looked down, rearranging my eggs with my fork. I felt sick, too. I didn’t know what I could have done differently. I could have done nothing and let my mother die, I supposed. If I’d done that, Anna might be fine, but then again, she might still be supplying Nick with the gloves he needed to make the drug. I hated Dad being upset with me.

  He went on, “But it was a really kind thing you were trying to do. It’s amazing that your mother’s book somehow helped you realize how to counteract the drug.”

  Mom made a small sound, and we looked at her. A tear was running down her face. “Rosetti’s poem—I loved it. I saw goblins since I was a teenager. They never hurt me, but they’re scary. I thought if you ever saw them too, the book might help you be less afraid. I never thought that you would have to save me.”

  I patted my mom’s back. “Thank you for the book,” I said. “It was a miracle.”

  Dad nodded. “The miracle was that you knew what to do, not what happened after you did it. Antivenoms for snakes and spider bites are derived from venom. I think you two coming out of it had more to do with the reintroduction of the drug than with sacrifice or anything metaphysical.”

  “But what about Kevin?” I asked. “The drug made him crazy and then he went catatonic again.”

  “That was a much bigger dose,” Dad said. “It may be that a very small amount administered through the palms is what’s needed.”

  “But what about Andrew and Anna?” Audrey asked.

  “Everyone’s different,” said Dad. “The treatments for everyone will be a little different. “According to Nick, Clarity and Sara have an unusual genetic trait. That trait may have had a role in their recovery.”

  “Oh,” said Audrey, looking away.

  “Audrey,” Dad said. “More research needs to be done, but there’s a lot more hope now than ever before that a cure will be found for everyone.”

  I nodded, smiling. Seeing a movement in the corner of the room, I turned. The rat goblin was back, a horrible, sharp-toothed grin on its face, sticky orange juice staining its lips. I looked at my mom, and I knew that she could see it too because she was staring at the exact same spot. Wordlessly, I grabbed her hand under the table. She looked at me in surprise, and then we both looked back at the place where the goblin had been standing. It was gone.

  #

  Audrey, Todd, and I got together on a Saturday to do the mural. That wasn’t what the original terms of our punishment were, but Mrs. Nelson was understanding. We hadn’t been to school much with everything that had happened with Nick, and my mom, and Anna, and Todd’s grandpa. Todd’s uncle was a patient at the center now, and part of my dad’s new experimental trial. He was still catatonic, of course. With the exception of my mom, all the patients were still catatonic, but Dad was very hopeful. I’d been surprised to learn that Todd had a catatonic uncle and that Anna was in on hiding him, but I wasn’t shocked. Nothing shocked me anymore.

  I drew the last scene of the poem, as I imagined it, Laura sitting under a tree with her children, the little ones all holding hands. It would be controversial, but I thought we’d get away with it. The taboo against hand holding hadn’t disappeared overnight. Some people might think it was obscene, but things were different now. My mother’s recovery had given people a new optimism. Everyone thought that a cure was just around the corner.

  It took us all day and much of the evening to paint the mural. We used bright colors and filled it with sunshine and flowers. It was so beautiful, so full of hope. It felt like a new beginning.

  Like this book? Goblin Girl, the second book in the “Gobbled” series is available now.

  Want free stories and updates? www.seburr.com/freebies.html

  Goblin Market

  By Christina Rossetti

  MORNING and evening

  Maids heard the goblins cry:

  "Come buy our orchard fruits,

  Come buy, come buy:

  Apples and quinces,

  Lemons and oranges,

  Plump unpecked cherries-

  Melons and raspberries,

  Bloom-down-cheeked peaches,

  Swart-headed mulberries,

  Wild free-born cranberries,

  Crab-apples, dewberries,

  Pine-apples, blackberries,

  Apricots, strawberries—

  All ripe together

  In summer weather—

  Morns that pass by,

  Fair eves that fly;

  Come buy, come buy;

  Our grapes fresh from the vine,

  Pomegranates full and fine,

  Dates and sharp bullaces,

  Rare pears and greengages,

  Damsons and bilberries,

  Taste them and try:

  Currants and gooseberries,

  Bright-fire-like barberries,

  Figs to fill your mouth,

  Citrons from the South,

  Sweet to tongue and sound to eye,

  Come buy, come buy."

  Evening by evening

  Among the brookside rushes,

  Laura bowed her head to hear,

  Lizzie veiled her blushes:

  Crouching close together

  In the cooling weather,

  With clasping arms and cautioning lips,

  With tingling cheeks and finger-tips.

  "Lie close," Laura said,

  Pricking up her golden head:

  We must not look at goblin men,

  We must not buy their fruits:

  Who knows upon what soil they fed

  Their hungry thirsty roots?"

  "Come buy," call the goblins

  Hobbling down the glen.

  "O! cried Lizzie, Laura, Laura,


  You should not peep at goblin men."

  Lizzie covered up her eyes

  Covered close lest they should look;

  Laura reared her glossy head,

  And whispered like the restless brook:

  "Look, Lizzie, look, Lizzie,

  Down the glen tramp little men.

  One hauls a basket,

  One bears a plate,

  One lugs a golden dish

  Of many pounds' weight.

  How fair the vine must grow

  Whose grapes are so luscious;

  How warm the wind must blow

  Through those fruit bushes."

  "No," said Lizzie, "no, no, no;

  Their offers should not charm us,

  Their evil gifts would harm us."

  She thrust a dimpled finger

  In each ear, shut eyes and ran:

  Curious Laura chose to linger

  Wondering at each merchant man.

  One had a cat's face,

  One whisked a tail,

  One tramped at a rat's pace,

  One crawled like a snail,

  One like a wombat prowled obtuse and furry,

  One like a ratel tumbled hurry-scurry.

  Lizzie heard a voice like voice of doves

  Cooing all together:

  They sounded kind and full of loves

  In the pleasant weather.

  Laura stretched her gleaming neck

  Like a rush-imbedded swan,

  Like a lily from the beck,

  Like a moonlit poplar branch,

  Like a vessel at the launch

  When its last restraint is gone.

  Backwards up the mossy glen

  Turned and trooped the goblin men,

  With their shrill repeated cry,

  "Come buy, come buy."

  When they reached where Laura was

  They stood stock still upon the moss,

  Leering at each other,

  Brother with queer brother;

  Signalling each other,

  Brother with sly brother.

  One set his basket down,

  One reared his plate;

  One began to weave a crown

  Of tendrils, leaves, and rough nuts brown

  (Men sell not such in any town);

  One heaved the golden weight

  Of dish and fruit to offer her:

  "Come buy, come buy," was still their cry.

  Laura stared but did not stir,

  Longed but had no money:

  The whisk-tailed merchant bade her taste

  In tones as smooth as honey,

  The cat-faced purr'd,

  The rat-paced spoke a word

  Of welcome, and the snail-paced even was heard;

  One parrot-voiced and jolly

  Cried "Pretty Goblin" still for "Pretty Polly";

  One whistled like a bird.

  But sweet-tooth Laura spoke in haste:

  "Good folk, I have no coin;

  To take were to purloin:

  I have no copper in my purse,

  I have no silver either,

  And all my gold is on the furze

  That shakes in windy weather

  Above the rusty heather."

  "You have much gold upon your head,"

  They answered altogether:

  "Buy from us with a golden curl."

  She clipped a precious golden lock,

  She dropped a tear more rare than pearl,

  Then sucked their fruit globes fair or red:

  Sweeter than honey from the rock,

  Stronger than man-rejoicing wine,

  Clearer than water flowed that juice;

  She never tasted such before,

  How should it cloy with length of use?

  She sucked and sucked and sucked the more

  Fruits which that unknown orchard bore,

  She sucked until her lips were sore;

  Then flung the emptied rinds away,

  But gathered up one kernel stone,

  And knew not was it night or day

  As she turned home alone.

  Lizzie met her at the gate

  Full of wise upbraidings:

  "Dear, you should not stay so late,

  Twilight is not good for maidens;

  Should not loiter in the glen

  In the haunts of goblin men.

  Do you not remember Jeanie,

  How she met them in the moonlight,

  Took their gifts both choice and many,

  Ate their fruits and wore their flowers

  Plucked from bowers

  Where summer ripens at all hours?

  But ever in the moonlight

  She pined and pined away;

  Sought them by night and day,

  Found them no more, but dwindled and grew gray;

  Then fell with the first snow,

  While to this day no grass will grow

  Where she lies low:

  I planted daisies there a year ago

  That never blow.

  You should not loiter so."

  "Nay hush," said Laura.

  "Nay hush, my sister:

  I ate and ate my fill,

  Yet my mouth waters still;

  To-morrow night I will

  Buy more," and kissed her.

  "Have done with sorrow;

  I'll bring you plums to-morrow

  Fresh on their mother twigs,

  Cherries worth getting;

  You cannot think what figs

  My teeth have met in,

  What melons, icy-cold

  Piled on a dish of gold

  Too huge for me to hold,

  What peaches with a velvet nap,

  Pellucid grapes without one seed:

  Odorous indeed must be the mead

  Whereon they grow, and pure the wave they drink,

  With lilies at the brink,

  And sugar-sweet their sap."

  Golden head by golden head,

  Like two pigeons in one nest

  Folded in each other's wings,

  They lay down, in their curtained bed:

  Like two blossoms on one stem,

  Like two flakes of new-fallen snow,

  Like two wands of ivory

  Tipped with gold for awful kings.

  Moon and stars beamed in at them,

  Wind sang to them lullaby,

  Lumbering owls forbore to fly,

  Not a bat flapped to and fro

  Round their rest:

  Cheek to cheek and breast to breast

  Locked together in one nest.

  Early in the morning

  When the first cock crowed his warning,

  Neat like bees, as sweet and busy,

  Laura rose with Lizzie:

  Fetched in honey, milked the cows,

  Aired and set to rights the house,

  Kneaded cakes of whitest wheat,

  Cakes for dainty mouths to eat,

  Next churned butter, whipped up cream,

  Fed their poultry, sat and sewed;

  Talked as modest maidens should

  Lizzie with an open heart,

  Laura in an absent dream,

  One content, one sick in part;

  One warbling for the mere bright day's delight,

  One longing for the night.

  At length slow evening came—

  They went with pitchers to the reedy brook;

  Lizzie most placid in her look,

  Laura most like a leaping flame.

  They drew the gurgling water from its deep

  Lizzie plucked purple and rich golden flags,

  Then turning homeward said: "The sunset flushes

  Those furthest loftiest crags;

  Come, Laura, not another maiden lags,

  No wilful squirrel wags,

  The beasts and birds are fast asleep."

  But Laura loitered still among the rushes

  And said the bank was steep.

  An
d said the hour was early still,

  The dew not fallen, the wind not chill:

  Listening ever, but not catching

  The customary cry,

  "Come buy, come buy,"

  With its iterated jingle

  Of sugar-baited words:

  Not for all her watching

  Once discerning even one goblin

  Racing, whisking, tumbling, hobbling;

  Let alone the herds

  That used to tramp along the glen,

  In groups or single,

  Of brisk fruit-merchant men.

  Till Lizzie urged, "O Laura, come,

  I hear the fruit-call, but I dare not look:

  You should not loiter longer at this brook:

  Come with me home.

  The stars rise, the moon bends her arc,

  Each glow-worm winks her spark,

  Let us get home before the night grows dark;

  For clouds may gather even

  Though this is summer weather,

  Put out the lights and drench us through;

  Then if we lost our way what should we do?"

  Laura turned cold as stone

  To find her sister heard that cry alone,

  That goblin cry,

  "Come buy our fruits, come buy."

  Must she then buy no more such dainty fruit?

  Must she no more such succous pasture find,

  Gone deaf and blind?

  Her tree of life drooped from the root:

  She said not one word in her heart's sore ache;

  But peering thro' the dimness, naught discerning,

  Trudged home, her pitcher dripping all the way;

  So crept to bed, and lay

  Silent 'til Lizzie slept;

  Then sat up in a passionate yearning,

  And gnashed her teeth for balked desire, and wept

  As if her heart would break.

  Day after day, night after night,

  Laura kept watch in vain,

  In sullen silence of exceeding pain.

  She never caught again the goblin cry:

  "Come buy, come buy,"

  She never spied the goblin men

  Hawking their fruits along the glen:

  But when the noon waxed bright

  Her hair grew thin and gray;

  She dwindled, as the fair full moon doth turn

  To swift decay, and burn

  Her fire away.

  One day remembering her kernel-stone

  She set it by a wall that faced the south;

  Dewed it with tears, hoped for a root,

  Watched for a waxing shoot,

  But there came none;

  It never saw the sun,

  It never felt the trickling moisture run:

  While with sunk eyes and faded mouth

  She dreamed of melons, as a traveller sees