The Guardian

The Guardian

It was a magical afternoon. I was minding my own business, tripping lightly down the mountain side when all of a sudden I heard a strange rustling in the leaves. I turned to see what it might be, but I didn’t see anything. “A squirrel perhaps”? I got the camera ready in case I caught a glimpse of it; whatever it was, but there was only a light breeze dancing around the forrest.

I decided to continue my trek down the mountain and was turning to do so when an acorn hit the back of my head.

“Oh”! I said.

I looked back in the direction of my attacker, but he, she or it was nowhere to be seen. I stood still and could hear a light chirping sound coming from behind an old stump. There was a hole in the base, so I bent down far enough to see through to the other side. I didn’t see any movement at first, but the light chirping was now quite discernibly … giggling!

“Well that does it”, I thought. Not only is someone, or something, playing games with me but they’re having a fine time with it too.

“Show yourself”, I said as sternly as I could muster, and I crept closer to the hole.

I saw a little man tucked below some autumn leaves just beyond the hole. He was not four inches tall and was dressed in heavy boots and dungarees. He wore a dark green coat that looked to be made of old pine needles woven together with bits of vine. He had a humongous red and veiny nose, and he wore the crown of an acorn like a hat. There were several acorns bulging from his pockets and another one poised for launch in his hand … if only he could stop giggling long enough to throw it.

I hesitated then, wondering how much damage an acorn might do to my camera, but finally decided to chance it. I rested both elbows on the ground to steady my shot and was ready to click the shutter when the fellow scampered under some leaves.

“Oh no you don’t”, I said. I was looking around for my monopod to prod the leaves when I heard a deep voice beside my head.

“That’s not a good idea”, said the voice.

It was then that I noticed the spirit of the stump staring at me. He seemed like a jovial chap with a long beard and flowing grey hair, but the look in his eyes showed me he wasn’t one for discussion.

“But”, I pleaded. “It’s not right. He started it. He hit me with an acorn”.

The wise old face rolled his eyes up at my infantile pleading and simply stared at me.

“Oh all right”, I said.

I gathered my things as reluctantly as possible and did my best to demonstrate my disappointment in the old coot’s sense of justice. I took my time brushing the leaves from my clothes and rubbing my elbows to show him just how sore I was. Of course, he paid me no mind. He simply looked complacent, as old stumps tend to do, and kept that dry little smirk on his face. I did consider poking my monopod into the hole and stirring up the leaves a little, but I finally decided to let it go.

When I had gathered my gear, and was conveniently out of acorn range, I heard that deep voice below after me.

“Have a nice day”!

I swear I heard giggling in the back ground.

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Tags:

acorn, fantasy, humor, little, man, old, photography, playful, spirit, story, stump, tale and wise