Throughout the ages, fantasy was something that helped shape where fiction sits today, creating fascinating creatures and intriguing worlds. The ideas later twisted the minds of writers into something dark and unforgiving. However, while they may be works of fiction, what is stopping them from being real?
Stocking shelves at a supermarket wasn't exactly how I had planned to spend my afternoon. I was forced into covering a shift this woman had before she went crazy and killed herself in one of the aisles. I was glad I didn't work that day, for seeing the dead body might have scarred me for life. I tried shaking the thought from my mind and continue working.
I looked over at the clock on the far wall. It was approaching nine o'clock. Almost time for me to go home. I tossed another can of carrots on the shelf before grabbing the empty box they came from and making my way to the back of the store.
Shortly after going to the back, my boss called to me and told me to clock out. It was my cue to leave. I tossed the empty box aside and clocked out. I headed out the front doors of the store and took a look around.
I admired the darkness that had overtaken the town. The street lights were few and far between, making the void of the outside appear at though nothing existed outside the store parking lot. The wind carried a slight chill, just enough to shiver but not enough to throw on a jacket. I made my way across the parking lot and to the sidewalk to head home.
As I walked, I felt I was truly alone, free to exist with my own mind without the judgment of the world around me. Nothing quite made me feel the way walking at night does.
I was about halfway to my home when I approached an open field of grass from the park I was passing by. I heard the sound of footsteps crunching the dead grass, but looking over, I didn't see much else but a few small dark figures. I stopped and squinted hard into the darkness. Were those tall pointy hats? I shook my head, laughing while saying, "Gnomes don't exist."
I carried on my way walking home until I finally made it, no longer hearing the sounds.
The next day was what I could only say was more of the same. It was a boring, long shift at work before getting off after nightfall.
I walked home again, this time it felt a little warmer, no chilled air making my hairs stand on end. As I walked past the park again, I heard the familiar sound of feet scampering through the grass. This time, I grabbed my phone and turned on the flashlight before aiming it in their direction. I was taken by surprise when I saw several small people staring back at me, wearing tall, cone-shaped hats atop their heads. I took a step toward them and they took off in a blur.
At work, I tried telling everyone I worked with about the gnomes I saw, lurking around the park at night. They all laughed, only to laugh harder when I told them it wasn't a joke. They told me I should take a picture for proof. I told them I would do it and their faces went from cracked smiles to somber.
"If they are actual gnomes," my boss responded, "They don't like bright lights. That's why they hide underground by day." He eyed me up and down a few times as my face became overtaken by fear. He broke into a sudden laugher that swelled as more people around us joined in.
I left that night with a goal in mind and determination in my heart. I was going to get that picture.
I made my way to the park during, yet another trip home that night. Surely enough, the gnomes were there. I could hear them chattering in high pitched voices. I took my camera from my pocket. Now would be the perfect time for the picture. I aimed the camera toward them and the flash lit up the park for a brief moment. I looked at the picture and saw the faces of the gnomes, twisted in anger.
I got a little freaked out, so I turned on my flashlight and aimed it at them. They didn't move, only glaired at me. I took a step toward them and they all charged toward me, battle cries in their wake.
Stocking shelves at a supermarket wasn't exactly how I had planned to spend my afternoon. I was forced into covering a shift this woman had before she went crazy and killed herself in one of the aisles. I was glad I didn't work that day, for seeing the dead body might have scarred me for life. I tried shaking the thought from my mind and continue working.
I looked over at the clock on the far wall. It was approaching nine o'clock. Almost time for me to go home. I tossed another can of carrots on the shelf before grabbing the empty box they came from and making my way to the back of the store.
Shortly after going to the back, my boss called to me and told me to clock out. It was my cue to leave. I tossed the empty box aside and clocked out. I headed out the front doors of the store and took a look around.
I admired the darkness that had overtaken the town. The street lights were few and far between, making the void of the outside appear at though nothing existed outside the store parking lot. The wind carried a slight chill, just enough to shiver but not enough to throw on a jacket. I made my way across the parking lot and to the sidewalk to head home.
As I walked, I felt I was truly alone, free to exist with my own mind without the judgment of the world around me. Nothing quite made me feel the way walking at night does.
I was about halfway to my home when I approached an open field of grass from the park I was passing by. I heard the sound of footsteps crunching the dead grass, but looking over, I didn't see much else but a few small dark figures. I stopped and squinted hard into the darkness. Were those tall pointy hats? I shook my head, laughing while saying, "Gnomes don't exist."
I carried on my way walking home until I finally made it, no longer hearing the sounds.
The next day was what I could only say was more of the same. It was a boring, long shift at work before getting off after nightfall.
I walked home again, this time it felt a little warmer, no chilled air making my hairs stand on end. As I walked past the park again, I heard the familiar sound of feet scampering through the grass. This time, I grabbed my phone and turned on the flashlight before aiming it in their direction. I was taken by surprise when I saw several small people staring back at me, wearing tall, cone-shaped hats atop their heads. I took a step toward them and they took off in a blur.
At work, I tried telling everyone I worked with about the gnomes I saw, lurking around the park at night. They all laughed, only to laugh harder when I told them it wasn't a joke. They told me I should take a picture for proof. I told them I would do it and their faces went from cracked smiles to somber.
"If they are actual gnomes," my boss responded, "They don't like bright lights. That's why they hide underground by day." He eyed me up and down a few times as my face became overtaken by fear. He broke into a sudden laugher that swelled as more people around us joined in.
I left that night with a goal in mind and determination in my heart. I was going to get that picture.
I made my way to the park during, yet another trip home that night. Surely enough, the gnomes were there. I could hear them chattering in high pitched voices. I took my camera from my pocket. Now would be the perfect time for the picture. I aimed the camera toward them and the flash lit up the park for a brief moment. I looked at the picture and saw the faces of the gnomes, twisted in anger.
I got a little freaked out, so I turned on my flashlight and aimed it at them. They didn't move, only glaired at me. I took a step toward them and they all charged toward me, battle cries in their wake.
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