“PUT ME DOWN, YE BLEEDIN’ GREAT EEJIT”
Moira started in shock as the high pitched voice erupted in anger from the bunch of bluebells she gripped.
“Bleedin’ big folk, wander around here like they own the place”
Moira stared in disbelief. Beneath the dainty blue drops, clutching the thick stem in one hand, hung a tiny man! He was wagging his finger at her as he continued his giving out.
“Ye snatch up me cup plants like they bloody belong to ye”
He little face was growing red, his puffed up cheeks flushed with irritation.
“Ye selfish gombeen, t’is ma family land this here, ye big folk waltz through, trampling, stealing, not a bleedin' care in the world”
He fixed his dark beady eyes on her, narrowing them a little as he spat at her,
“Imeacht gan teacht ort”
Moira giggled, she couldn’t help it. She had no idea what it meant but he sounded like a squeaky version of her granddad, resorting to old Gaelic insults. She bent over, putting the flowers on the ground to let him climb down.
“Are you a real leprechaun…?” She asked, too excited to be put off by his temperament.
The leprechaun smacked his tiny hand to his little forehead.
“Nah ye thick dope, I’m a bleeding giant! Fionn mac Cumhaill me!”
Moira knelt down, peering closely at the little man. A shock of dark reddish brown hair sprouted in disarray from his rounded head, reflected in the red tinge of his nose and cheeks. He wore a little suit of finely stitched green fabric, buttoned up with shiny black seeds.
“What’re ye staring at ye overgrown stook?!” The little man shouted up at her, “Yer noodle full of air?”
“I’ve never met a real leprechaun before!” Moira exclaimed excitedly, “Don’t worry, I don’t want to steal your pot of gold!” She paused, before quickly adding, “I just want you to grant me a wish”
She had heard stories about little folk all her life. She was almost ashamed to admit, she had thought her granny was making it up. The little man had started rolling on the floor, gripping his rotund tummy as he clutched his sides in laughter.
“Ye mad as a box of frogs ye are!” His words were gasped between laughing breaths, “Just grant ye a wish! Ye think if I could grant wishes, I’d be givin’ em away?”
His roaring laugh was infectious, Moira found her smile breaking into giggles as she watched the little man, rocking between the picked flowers.
“Big folk are as thick as champ, the things ye believe about us little folk!” He declared, as he sat up, wiping the jovial tears from his cheeks.
“So you don’t grant wishes?” Moira asked, feeling foolish.
“Amadán, if I could grant wishes, stray children wouldn’t be making off with me cup plants!” He retorted with a hint of irritation.
She felt bad about picking such a big bunch of the blossoming bluebells.
“I'm sorry Mr Leprechaun, I didn’t know they were your flowers! I'll put them back!” She offered, keen to make amends with him.
Well this didn’t go down as well as she had hoped. The little man, clad in his waistcoat and suit, fell about laughing again, slapping his thigh as he doubled over cracking up.
“Put them back? Put them back?!” His red cheeks crinkled in wholehearted laughter. His initial anger had dissipated, he couldn’t stay cross with someone so naïve. “You can’t put them back!”
Moira looked a little mortified. “I can’t..?”
The little man put his hand to his chest, the good humour hidden in an instant as he became serious. He held her gaze, chanted an old saying in a chiding sing-song voice.
"A bláth once broken in two
Won't grow again that is true
Beocht will wilt
Peitils be spilt
Appreciate it before they do”
Moira blushed a deep guilty pink, looking at the huge pile of scattered bluebells she had picked; she had been gathering them all morning.
“I am so sorry Mr Leprechaun” She exclaimed, remorseful tears forming in her wide eyes, “I will take them home and appreciate every single one! I won’t ever pick flowers again - I didn’t know they wouldn’t grow back!”
The leprechaun felt a bit bashful, he was a bitter fellow. Like most little folk, he resented the big uns who carelessly trampled his forests and fields, but the sheer look of sorrow on the face of this little girl softened his old, grumpy heart for the first time in years.
“The name’s Colm,” He offered, “don’t you be bucketing down on me now, they will still be back next year”
Moira quickly wiped away teetering tears, her eyes still were wide in dismay, her forehead still ruched up in regret. She only sniffled in response.
“What were you going to wish for?” Colm asked, he was used to eating the head off any wayward child who wandered his fields, and getting nothing more than an earful back. He hadn’t meant to upset her this much.
Sniffing as she spoke, Moira murmured, “I thought you didn’t grant wishes…?”
Colm climbed between the bluebell stems to stand in front of her, at a grand 6 inches, he was quite a tall leprechaun. He placed a hand on her huge knee.
“Come on now, what’s the craic?”
Moira was still fighting back tears.
“I wanted a friend!” She confessed, the teardrops breaking loose, flowing down her cheeks in dangerous torrents.
A single fat drop of despair splatted on Colm’s head, plastering his wild hair to one side of his head, before he quickly side stepped, avoiding the downpour.
Moira was visiting her grandparents for the Easter holidays, the picturesque farm held the air of tranquillity that only came from isolation. They were miles from the nearest village, there were no other children for her to play with, even the dogs worked during the day.
Colm smiled a wide toothy grin, slapping the gigantic knee before him as he exclaimed,
“Now leanbh, what would you be wasting a wish on that for?”
Moira slowly stopped crying, a little confused, “There's no one else here”
Colm moved to lean his elbow against her knee, resting his head on his hand, a wide grin had filled his miniature face.
“Isn't there now - what about me?” He asked with a wink.
Moira looked at the leprechaun, who stood beaming up at her. She was stunned for a moment as she took in what he meant, until gradually, a smile began to grow across her face.
“Would you really be friends with a big eejit?”
The miniature man started to laugh again, “Well if ye'd be friends with a little one!”
With a leprechaun theme, I couldn't help but write a story in the style I used to read as a kid, I was tempted by the horror of a vicious leprechaun, but this easily won out. I have included a few Irish slang words and phrases in here, I don't speak any myself, although my mum is Irish so I grew up with a lot of the myths and legends. I had so much fun, I ended up adding an impromptu limerick!
This is my entry to @mctiller 's Twenty Four Hour Short Story Contest - the theme this round is to write a short story based on the idea a little girl picking up flowers, accidentally picked up a leprechaun. There is still time to enter so head over to the post to check out the rules. You can find all entries under #twentyfourhourshortstory
Eejit - Idiot, used seriously and in jest
Gombeen - someone shady who looks to profit at the expense of others
Imeacht gan teacht ort - Go away and don't come back, translated with many variations of "go away"
Fionn mac Cumhaill was the giant who threw the rocks that created the Giant's Causeway, as well as being a man of myth and legend.
Stook - Fool
Champ - A thick mash potato dish
Amadán - Fool (sometimes used by those trying to educate)
Bláth - Flower
Beocht - Life/Vitality (I struggled to find a word for this one, it may not be the best fit)
Peitils - Petals
Leanbh - Child, can be used as a term of endearment
Photo Credit by Pixabay User Didgeiow who has 5 other images in the public domain, they all appear to be from the same beautiful woodland, there are a couple of other lovely bluebell shots in there as well.
Thank you for stopping by ~ Calluna