The tiny hunchback was brittle leaves and chicken bones. The moment the kobold crawled from under the bed and reached up to give him a pinch on the backside, he whipped over quick as he could and grabbed the miserable thing around the throat with both hands. No sooner had Papa begun to snore than Alton heard the clunk-thump of uneven steps under the bed, the sound an ice hammer cracking up his spine. The house settled to sleep with creaks and pops and groans, what Aunt Bethany called “night talk” before she left without saying good-bye. The next night Alton asked for an aspirin for his headache, then curled on his side with the quilt tucked under his chin and his toes safe and warm in wool socks. That night Alton realized mamas did not know what it meant to have a kobold living under one’s bed. “You go to sleep this instant, and in the morning you will pick up your room or else.” “There will be none of that, young man,” Mama said as she tucked the brushed cotton quilt under his chin. He pinched me here, and here, and even here.” “There is a kobold living under my bed, Mama,” he said when his mother came to see what the fuss was all about.
It hobbled around in its stone clogs in the dark of night, knocking over books,tumbling shoes off the rack. The wicked thing smelled of licorice and MaeMa’s kisses when she went too long without brushing her dentures. That is until one came to live under his bed and he learned what horrid little creatures they truly were. Once upon a time, there was a boy named Alton who longed to be a kobold and keep treasure in his stone shoes. Preorder Godfall and Other Stories today!įor Fear of Little Men by Sandra M.
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