Part 14 (1/2)

Fine.

Well, what do you need me for? Go ahead and imagine the rest of the chapter yourself.

Okay, I'm done pouting.

So Jack and Jill walked through this magnificent market, marveling at the gemstones and the gold, the dancing tapestries, the succulent food, the mechanical beasts.

But mostly, they marveled at the goblins.

The goblins, you see, were all grown men, and yet none was taller than either Jack or Jill. They had deep black eyes with no whites at all. And lank black hair. But their skin was the strangest thing about them. It was a pale green-not so green that you would confuse it with key lime pie; nor so pale that you'd think they were just seasick. About halfway in between key lime pie and seasick. That was the color of the goblins' skin.

Now if you've ever read books with goblins, or seen movies with goblins, or even played video games with goblins, you will want to tell me that I am wrong, and that goblins, in fact, do not look at all as I have described them. You will want to tell me that goblins have hunched backs, red eyes, pointy ears and chins, sharp teeth, and skin that is very very very green.

You must know that this image you have of goblins is a terrible lie. It was first circulated by a powerful and ubiquitous crayon company who shall here remain nameless, when they discovered that, try as they might, they could not make a shade of green that matched the tone of a goblin's skin. They made it too light, and the goblins looked seasick; they made it too dark, and they looked like slices of key lime pie. ”Goblin green?” they said. ”Impossible!” So they started telling kids that, really, that bright green that already came in the box was just the right color, and, as an added bonus, the bright red was the perfect color for the eyes. And you know what? All the kids believed them. I bet you did, too.

Well, now you know better. Pale green skin. And, as I said, deep black eyes, with no whites at all, and lank black hair that they treat in all different kinds of ways-side part, ponytail, comb-over to hide balding, and so on. Their faces were all different, but every one looked like a man of about fifty or fifty-five-some fat, some thin, but all tired, overworked.

And hungry. For something.

Jack and Jill moved deeper and deeper into the Goblin Market. It seemed to go on forever. The children walked as if in a daze, their eyes pa.s.sing limply over wonders too wonderful even to describe. As they walked, the eyes of the goblins followed them. From behind signs, from under awnings, from within brightly colored pavilions, the goblins watched the two human children, their dark eyes following them, step by innocent step.

Suddenly, Jack heard a clanging sound. It rose from a ramp that seemed to lead down into the earth. At the very same moment, Jill heard a chanting, pulsing cry: Come buy our orchard fruits, Come buy! Come buy!

The calls came from a section of the market filled with fruits stalls. Tables were stacked high with pyramids of big black grapes, domes of blood oranges, tangles of ruby cherries. Behind or beside each table, goblins called out their song: Apples and quinces! Melons and raspberries!

All ripe together In summer weather!

Jill's mouth began to water. ”Jack!” she cried. ”We have to go to the fruit market!”

But Jack was already wandering in the direction of the ramp that led down into the earth.

Jill didn't notice. She started toward the fruit sellers. They called out, their goblin voices straining: Grapes fresh from the vine, Pomegranates full and fine!

Jill entered the fruit stalls. The goblin men watched her from beneath heavy brows. Their tables were loaded with sweet smelling fruit. Jill pa.s.sed her hand over glossy apples and delicately fingered puckered raspberries. The goblin men smiled at her from their dark, hungry eyes. Their calls became louder, more insistent: Figs to fill your mouth, Citrons from the South, Sweet to tongue and sound to eye!

Come buy!

Come buy!

The goblin men watched Jill's hand trail across their fruits. They whispered to one another, pointed, smiled.

Suddenly, a goblin called out: ”h.e.l.lo, my pretty!”

Then another said, ”Good day, my lovely!”

”h.e.l.lo there, beauty.”

”Darling girl, have a peach! Eat my peaches!”

”Or my pears, sweet one!”

”Red cherries for a beautiful girl!”

Young Jill looked up at the strange, leering men. Her heart beat an uncertain pattern in her chest.

”My lovely!”

”Pretty one!”

”Come eat my fruits!”

”Eat mine!”

”Eat mine!”

And then one goblin slid out from behind his stall, an apple in his hand. Jill stopped. He came toward her, closer and closer, until his body was brus.h.i.+ng against hers, and his face was inches from her own. She could smell him. She felt strange.

”A lovely apple for a lovely girl?” he asked. And he raised its red flesh to her nose. Jill closed her eyes and drew the scent in. It was rich and tempting.

”Sweet, isn't it?” he asked.

Her eyes still shut, Jill nodded.

The goblin said, ”Take a bite.”

Jill opened her eyes. She saw the old goblin face, his skin so close to hers, his dark eyes drinking her in. And in those eyes, she saw her own reflection. She suddenly thought of other reflections she had seen-in her mother's mirror, in the sea.

Something felt wrong.

”No,” she said, and she pushed the apple away.

But more goblins had come out from behind their stalls. They were moving closer and closer, watching the fruit seller and Jill. They began crowding in on her, with their heat and their smell. Soon they were pressing in upon her, jostling her, pus.h.i.+ng her, holding her.

”Pretty girl! Eat my fruit!”

”No, mine!”

”Mine, my beauty! Mine!”