The Garden Gnome

GARDEN GNOME ADVENTURES

by

JAY ATKINSON

Copyright © 2024

1-8203827631

Jay Atkinson

ISBN: 979-8633588118

Cover Illustrations by Xuan Li

All Rights Reserved. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is strictly prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.

All reasonable attempts have been made to verify the accuracy of the information provided in this publication. Nevertheless, the author assumes no responsibility for any errors and/or omissions.

Table of Contents

Introduction

The Garden Gnome August 31, 1872

March 31, 2017

September 1872

September 1872

Christmas 1872

Spring 1873

December 1878

March, 1886

April 30, 1888

May 1, 1888

August 30, 1888,

Sept 8, 1888

September 30, 1888

September 30, 1888

November 9, 1888

July 1920

January 1933

September 1940

1945 – 2017

June 1, 2017

Introduction

I came in to write a story. I glanced around the room. You know, just to see that everything was in its proper place and nothing was fucked with. To me, everything looked fine except for the head in the center of the floor. They don't eat the heads because it had too much bone and too much trouble. It wasn't as juicy as the leg piece or the fleshy chest muscles. Head was a big NO for them; little meat and hardly worth it. Unless you're thinking tacos - you can slowly boil it with some bay leaves and ginkgo. Strip the lips and the meat off the skull. A lot of work there, too, but enough for tacos or maybe tamales.  

I know, you think they would see the head and decide to bury it or put it away somewhere. But no, they leave it lying there for me to dispose of. Meanwhile, they are probably off to nap with their happy little bellies. I'm stuck having to do something with it.   

As I disposed of the head, it occurred to me that there were probably the guts lying around somewhere. Guts are full of shit, so they don't eat those, either. The guts are probably in a dark place somewhere. Sure enough, in the back corner, behind some boxes, the guts. Not so much blood as they just lap that up as they go. 

I didn't turn on the light. There was no reason, as I could see the gore well enough to clean up, and who really wants a good look at guts? Now, here's the gross part; as I reached over to scoop up a double handful of gooey grossness, ants swarmed over my hands. The guts were covered in ants! I had hundreds of gut-eating ants crawling all over my hands. Their little stingy feet ran up my wrist. By the time I got the guts to the bathroom and started flushing, the gut-eating ants were all over my arms and chest and getting on my face. Trying to crawl under my skin. Little bastards.

Wait, there's a tooth. Is it lucky to find a tooth? I know it's lucky to find four-leaf clovers and pennies. Teeth are rarer than pennies. Is it lucky to find a tooth? Do I get to make a wish? No one ever tells me things. Might as well flush it.

Just sitting here picking off ants from my body. I don't worry about them biting me because then, they die. Pinching off another one, I guess they die when I see them, too. Shit, one's on the keyboard. It's time for the poison. I sprayed my shirt, the keyboard, and the corner, hoping to kill these fuckers. Active ingredients of the spray are Pipiperonyl butoxide, Isopropanol, Permethrin, and Pyrethrins. Oh, well, good to know. I just sprayed my shirt again. 

But anyway, I've been thinking about a garden gnome. Not the store-bought ones, but the 1872 version where English lords would have servants or old men stand in the garden and look creepy. Fucking weird, I know, but I want them not to move, like those statues you see on Bourbon Street, where you think it's a bronze statue, and then you realize it's a guy, just standing really, really, still, but covered in bronze makeup or paint. Probably use a Brillo pad to scrape that paint off.

The Garden Gnome

August 31, 1872

Stand up, you fucking shit! If you so much as move. God help me, I'll knock your ugly head off.

The boy stood slowly and moved to the corner, trembling. Don't cry. Just don't cry, was his only thought.

March 31, 2017

There is a certain scream that few ladies possess. A blood-curdling, ear-piercing scream that carries over the shadows and into the darkness. A scream that you can hear in the veins in your neck and feel as your hair comes to life on your arms. A scream that crawls down your back and chills your spine.

Shame there was no one close enough to hear it.  

For a fortunate few, everything comes together. Elizabeth Gordon's bestselling book Six Layers of Pink was made into a movie that scored over 90 on rotten tomatoes. A sequel was in the works. When she heard that the Cowdry Estate was for sale, it gave her a safer place to put her money than the bank. She paid $36,500.000 EU for a half mile of English Countryside, a twelve-bedroom mansion complete with a ballroom, and several servant quarters/guest houses.

The mansion was surrounded by flowers and ornamental trees. The gardens stretched for hundreds of yards around the house before giving way to fields. She fell in love with it immediately. The garden behind the house was full of blue sage, roses, carnations, daffodils, irises, and more. It had large hedges at the far end that gave way to fields. There was a large vegetable garden with ripe tomatoes, carrots, lettuce, cilantro, sweet potatoes, etc.

Elizabeth walked through the garden. It was a beautiful evening, almost sunset. She strolled through the garden, identifying what plants she knew and those she didn't. A chill ran through her. Suddenly, she felt she was being watched. She stopped. Quiet except for the faint sounds of the city and traffic. 'Who is it,' she thought, but then shrugged it off; it's just my weird nerves.'

She glanced at the roses on her right and then looked over the entire garden. It was surrounded by eight-foot walls. She had the garden to herself. Alone. She walked further down the white stone path. The feeling slipped away; she glanced back toward the house. All was as it should be.

Her phone rang. She could see it was Robert Templeton, her attorney.

Hi, Bob. I'm here. James let me in. I'm in the garden, She said, looking around the garden and the flowers whose colors seemed magnified in the setting sun.

We’re leaving now. Samuel is coming with me. He mentioned that a gnome has a life estate on the deed. Robert said.

A Gnome? What do you mean gnome life estate deed? Elizabeth looked confused.

I thought he was joking, Robert said, English humor, but he seems serious about it.

We can discuss it when you are here. Then everything's done? Elizabeth and Robert had been working on this deal for over two months.

You sign the forms, and you are the proud owner of the Cowdry estate.

Perfect, Elizabeth smiled. I'll see you soon.

She hung up and walked to the hedges at the far end of the garden. There was a small hill there with a quaint little shed. It was beautiful. A white butterfly fluttered by, and at that moment, it felt like a fairy garden – enchanting and magical. It was perfect; with the setting sun, the manor looked grand, raised slightly above the garden. She took a deep breath and took a few more photos.

She realized that she should get back to the house. But, when she approached the house, that feeling came again. Like someone was watching, as she came closer to the rose bed, she noticed the shadow, a large gray lump in the roses. It wasn't there before, she was sure.

What is that? A statue? My eyes are getting bad, she thought.

The gnome moved slightly, adjusting his stance, and she realized that this was a man… standing… staring… suddenly coming into focus. The scream was deafening.

He was so much a part of the garden that he blended in entirely. The shadowy gnome had almost dissolved in the shadows. His long grey hair and beard, perhaps, had never seen a scissor. He stood about five and a half feet tall, with his wide-brimmed hat casting a shadow on his wrinkled eyes. With all the hair covering the face, you couldn't tell if he was smiling or gnarling his teeth. He wore a long coat that reached to the ground. The coat was made of patches of animal fur sewn together like a woolly quilt. He held onto a shovel, like a staff, with a gnarled handle, which appeared to be handmade from a branch. The hand holding the shovel had long, dirty nails that looked like knife blades. In his other hand, the man held a knife.

Her scream had startled him, so yes, the knife was in his hand.

He stood motionless, staring at her. She screamed, Oh my God, Oh my God. She stumbled up the walk a few steps and then broke into a full sprint, running as fast as she could, knowing he was right behind her. 

She ran back to the house, slammed the door shut and locked it. She had fully expected him to come crashing into the door behind her, but he hadn't moved. She called Robert, who should have been here already, but he didn't pick up. 

She left a message with shaky hands and a trembling voice, Hurry the hell up. There is a man in the garden. She called for James, the butler, but he didn't answer. He could be anywhere in the house.

She went up the stairs to the balcony and looked at where she had seen the man. He was still in the exact spot in the middle of the roses. He wasn't watching the mansion. Just standing there, staring off into the garden, looking North. 

She started videoing him with her phone. Waiting for him to do something. Just waiting. But he just stood there. Minutes passed. She heard the faint sounds of a car pulling up in front.

Robert arrived with Samuel Cowdry the Fourth. Elizabeth came racing down the stairs as they entered. 

He's still there in the garden. He hasn't moved. He's really creepy. I mean, like, 'Night of the Living Dead' creepy. 

She led them to the back of the house to the sitting room. The wall had large windows with glass doors leading onto the patio and the garden. Elizabeth hurried to the door and checked the lock. He was still there. He was exactly as she had first seen him. 

Come here, look, He's right there. She pointed to the man. 

At first, Robert didn't see anyone. But there, where the lights from the house faded to darkness, there was a dark shadow in the roses. A large lump of black. It could be a man. 

Yes, The gnome. He is the reason I came over. Samuel said. You hadn't met the gnome. He comes with the garden.

What do you mean, he comes with the garden? asked Elizabeth, horrified.

Samuel looked at Robert, who was setting down his brief. 

I should tell him what's going on with the sale and all, Samuel said without glancing at Elizabeth and started for the door. Elizabeth didn't move. 

Samuel pushed by her, unlocked and opened the door, and paused. Well, look lively, Robert, Elizabeth, I'll introduce you.

Robert followed Samuel into the garden. Elizabeth watched them.

Incredible, She thought. They just walk away, She shook her head and followed the two men into the garden. Samuel led the way and stopped in front of the old man. 

Robert thought of Gandalf from The Lord of the Rings. He wore a black hat, and grey hair poured from his head and face, nearly touching his knees. His cloak was rabbit fur; the patches had been sewn together and were worn in spots. He held a shovel for a staff.

Hello, Gnome, good to see you, Samuel announced as he walked up. His suit, tailored to perfection, was a direct contrast with what the gnome was wearing.

The gnome stood like a statue, immobile. He acknowledged Samuel only by looking into his eyes. The gnome's eyes were sharp. Samuel could feel them drill to the back of his head.

Samuel took a step back. Well, you should know, that is…, Samuel took another step back and then gathered himself. I've sold the place to Ms. Elizabeth here. I will be out as of today. 

The gnome blinked but did not respond with any other movement.  

Strange. And creepy, too, Elizabeth thought to herself.

Now it's been arraigned that you can continue on. Don't worry. You just keep on doing..., your duties and everything should be fine. My father made me promise to look out for you. Elizabeth will look after you from now on. Samuel said. 

The gnome did not respond. Elizabeth thought she was looking at a wax figure. Is he even breathing? She thought.

The gnome gave the slightest nod and turned his head slightly to stare at Elizabeth. It was like watching a statue move. His eyes were sharp like the hawk they had on the movie set. Jesus Christ, he has predator's eyes, she thought.  

No, no, no, no, no. I will not have this. Elizabeth backed away, shaking her head, and hurried back to the house.    

Robert just stared at the gnome. Is he for real? he muttered. He took a last look and hurried to catch Elizabeth.

Samuel said, Uh, don't worry about her. She'll come around. Well, then. For a moment, Samuel thought about shaking the man's hand. He looked at the gnarled hand. The black nails looked like steel blades. And that ugly stare. He thought better of it. Those eyes seemed to go deep inside Samuel, not in a good way.

The gnome was staring at him. Even the