A formula for trouble (Weekend freewrite)

marie-jay (61)in #weekendfreewrite • 6 years ago

It was my first time in an airplane and I was nervous. Still, it was totally unexpected when the midget sitting next to me lit a pipe, filling the air with a sweet smell of vanilla, which reminded me of my grandfather who used to smoke a pipe every evening after dinner. But, on a plane? No way that was allowed. Since the moment I’d set foot on the plane I’d done my best to ignore this fellow, burying my head in the laptop, so as to make sure I wasn’t staring at him or finding anything wrong about his height. Curiosity got the best of me and I turned to him, albeit with a smile on my face to let him know I was in no way objecting to his smoking. However, I was damn sure the hostess coming down the aisle will surely object. The guy seemed totally unconcerned, ignoring the approaching lady and focusing his attention on me. His dark eyes went over my face, my AC/Dc T-shirt and even checking out the manuscript on the screen of my laptop.
To my amazement, the air hostess just craned her neck to check our seat-belts and rewarded us with her standard fake smile. The little fellow did not even try to hide the pipe and anyway the there was that very distinct smell of pipe tobacco, but the woman just moved on.
‘She can’t see me’, the man said with a wink.
Oh, God, I had a whole book to review during the four-hour flight and here I was, stuck next to a crazy midget.
‘Goblin, the word you’re looking for is goblin, and, no, I’m pretty sure I’m not crazy. Neither are you, as I know that’s what you’re going to ask yourself next’.
I opened my mouth, but no words came to me at this point.
‘I am Barnaby Waterstone and I’m here to have a word with you before you deliver the draft to your editor and the situation gets out of hand.’
By this time, I was so confused I’m sure I looked like a complete idiot.
‘The more people discover the incantation, the greater the possibility of some morons finding their way to the land beyond. Tell me the truth, did you get it from the Revivalists? What else did they tell you?’
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about. What incantation?’
‘If that’s how you’re going to play it, we’d better talk elsewhere’. As he snapped his fingers, I suddenly felt dizzy and fell of my chair. So much for the seat-belt.
When I came to my senses I was in a room, with rough stone walls - like in an old castle. Right in front of me, tied to a chair, was Tracey Noble - her black dress torn to reveal blood oozing from a wound to her left calf.

When he saw the rip in her dress, he had a hard time controlling his anger.
‘What the hell did you to her, you were not supposed to touch her, you idiots’.
‘We didn’t do nothin’, Mr. Barnaby, the girl wouldn’t come with us and she did that to herself, jumping a fence to get away’, another goblin with a red pointy hat explained.
I couldn’t take my eyes off Tracey. I instantly recognized her determined eyes, her a-bit-too-long nose and the star-shaped birthmark on her neck, although I had never seen her before. Not in person, that is, only in my imagination, for Tracey Noble was the brave witch, star of my ‘Spellbound’ series. Well, I only had the draft for the first volume, but, as I was going to explain to that editor in New York, I had enough material in my head for a trilogy at least.
Barnaby cleared his throat to get our attention and said:
‘We have no intention of keeping either of you too long and if you are reasonable, I hope we can reach an understanding without delay.
The goblin, still smoking on his pipe, explained that all they required were a few ‘minor’ alterations to my book. If I could be so kind as not to publish the map of the enchanted forest I had drawn myself and change the incantation, put something gibberish instead.
‘It is gibberish’, I protested, ‘just a string of Latin-sounding random words, which aren’t even real’.
‘Please, don’t insult me. I don’t know how you got the formula, but we certainly cannot have it out there, for every damned kid to use it to pop in our lands. You humans have no business messing around with magic, no matter what those air-headed Revivalists say. It’s too powerful a weapon in the wrong hands and you lot don’t seem trustworthy at all. No offence.’
I could see indignation rising in Tracey’s face, but, before she got a chance to say anything, I addressed the goblins in my most conciliatory tone.
‘I had no idea what I wrote was your secret formula for… whatever. I can change it, no problem’.
When Tracey spoke for the first time, even I was impressed with the firmness in her voice.
‘You cannot do that. The incantation is not yours to change. It’s mine and I’ll use it as I see fit’.
The goblins were aghast at the brazenness of such words and it took me quite a while to convince them that, as the author, I will see to it that their secrets are safe. In the end, we worked out the wording of the new incantation, to make sure it’s not a giveaway.

There were clouds in the sky as we left the goblins’ castle. Follow the yellow road and it will take you to an iron gate, ‘big thing, you cannot miss it’, which is the passage for downtown New York. ‘So you won’t be late to your meeting. Good luck.’
The same gate would take Tracey to the edge of her enchanted forest, they assured us.
‘How could you do such a thing? I have a good mind to abandon your story altogether’, the girl fumed.
‘You cannot do that. You’re only a figment of my imagination and you’ll do whatever I say. Write.’
The girl looked at me defiant then focused her eyes on a couple of stones, which turned into two very fat and impudent frogs giving me dirty looks.
‘I taught you to do that, remember? In the very first chapter, when you were playing by the river.’
‘So what? I can turn you, too, into a frog if I want.’
‘You most certainly won’t. You’re a good witch’.
I wasn’t angry with her anymore, but rather impressed. She had such a strong personality, the book would clearly be a best-seller. And then a movie.
‘Exactly, I’m a good witch and I know these goblins are not to be trusted. Very shady creatures. Who knows, maybe the incantation does something else - maybe it gives fortunes or makes people young again?’
‘But I promised to change it and I intend to keep my promise’.
‘You’re such a woos, that’s you’re problem. And, for your information, I’m not a figment of your imagination. You’re just the tool I chose to write my story. Without me, you’re nothing, you’re back to being Johnny the copywriter. That’s all’.
Fortunately, we’d reached the iron gate were our roads parted. I was already starting to feel dizzy again, wondering if I wasn’t perhaps still on the plane, hallucinating or something.
‘You’re not hallucinating’, the girl smirked.
‘Tracey, listen to me, I’ll write for you the most amazing trilogy ever, just promise me you’ll stick with the new formula. No use making enemies’.
‘We’ll see about that’.