First brush (Flashback)

Cyril looked into the fire place expressionless.  He gazed upon the stone blackened from years of warm toasty fires- embers glowing in brilliant hues of orange and yellow against the silent black backdrop of soot.  The cold had crept in under the door and slithered its way into the living room, however was held back by the Spartan like flames- their shield wall keeping the cold at bay.  The flames danced brightly with a pop and a crack every now and then as the flames consumed the dries oak logs.  Cyril looked down briefly as he heard that familiar “silent anger”.  He studied the floor, taking in its texture.  With one impish finger her traced it along the floor taking in the texture and temperature of what was underneath him.  Cyril knew this was going to be a long night and with a sigh, he looked back into the fireplace.  A faint whiff of white smoke, spiraled out from the side of the fireplace, filling the room.  

“That looks like the tail of a Dragon!”, he thought to himself.  

He smiled and in a childlike awe, he pictured the dragon.  He did his best to picture a proper dragon, unlike most children.  Cyril imagined a dragon with” its scales like tempered shields, its teeth are like swords and claws spears!  The whip of his tail are thunderbolts!  It’s wings, a hurricane!  And it’s breath DEATH!”.  Yes, Cyril had a hunger for books and he was an old soul for a child, but still a child nonetheless.  He enjoyed the works of C.S Lewis and J.R.R Tolkien.

He sat there staring at the fireplace still, drowning out the “silent anger” as he remembered the conflict between the Hobbit, Bilbo Baggins and the fearsome fire drake, Smaug!  The warmth of the fire made his eyes grow heavy, his imagination blossoming in front of the fireplace.  Cyril’s eyes sank deeply as the warmth and imaginative thoughts caused him to nod off.  As his chin touched his chest and his drop dropped, as if struck by lightening his head and body jolted awake.  His preteen frame twisting like a young pine tree blow by the wind, he looked to the kitchen and thought,

“If only they would come sit here and feel the warmth of this fire.”

Cyril frowned as his imaginative mind began to close its windows and pack it in for the night.  Cyril replied loudly yet politely,

“Mom, Dad, I think the fire is going out.  Do we need another log?”

There was an ulterior motive in his respectful request.

Cyril heard something, someone, deep within the bowels of the basement.  He had  an active imagination and the complex books he read, did not help ease- that sound, something about that sound.  Cyril froze and took a third step; he held his breath.  Perhaps if he held his breath that something would not notice him.  It was a stupid idea, but he had no other ideas at the moment.  He had not went deep enough into the basement to retract his steps.

Yet something made him feel like……  It was waiting for him to run, like it was expecting him to.  That very presence seemed to wait for him to show fear and now….  The darkness seemed to swallow the lights.  But the darkness could not conceal what light shown through the shadows and shade.  The safe light, that warm comforting glow within the abysmal dark.  

“Be a big boy, Cyril…  Be a big boy….  Remember think happy thoughts”, he thought to himself.

He quoted Bilbo on his journey with Thorin and Company, “Eggs and bacon, a good full pipe, my garden in twilight, cakes…….”

He muttered an he took another few steps, descending down deeper.  The words might have comforted Bilbo in the Hobbit, but Cyril was still uneasy.  But….

What other child would have even bothered after hearing such a noise from the lonesome dark.  Cyril slowly exhaled and took another breath as he descended.

Cyril’s jaw dropped, he felt his eyes grow wide, the site of something he had never seen except in one of the books he had read- simply made him freeze.  His young mind struggled to comprehend what was being said.  The figure was simply too strange, it looked almost like a Hobbit or it could have been a Goblin!  Cyril, however, was a strange young child; he had prepared his mind for such oddities.  He even partly believed they existed; this perhaps was proof the books he read had some validity.  Fiction or not, it did not matter. Fear, was there however wonder was more of the word he would have used to describe his feeling.  This was something special, for good or bad.  He did not know but he with a child’s curiosity was fixated upon the figure.  

“Wh…  Why not, wh….  Who a…  Who are you?”

Strange child, strange answer, Cyril backed up slightly but not very far from the small figure.  Fear was there but it took a backseat next to his curiosity, surly if this creature had meant him harm he would have not spoken.  Cyril was smart and cautious; the light switch he believed was not far from his reach anyway.

Cyril tilted his head and replied, “Are you afraid of the light?  Mom and Dad are upstairs, but I won’t tell them.  Unless….”

Why had he not screamed he wondered?  He simply held his ground, but the creature could see he was not comfortable and a bit scared.  Cyril, however, had read a lot of books and he was confident in his knowledge- after all books were always right.  

“Well…  I mean…” Cyril paused and then looked inquisitively at the odd creature and replied “What… Are you?  A Goblin or Hobbit or something?”

Cyril backed up a bit more in an attempt to get closer to the light.  The creature did not want the light to shine, perhaps it would keep him safe….  He was petrified, it was obvious but he had something most children his age did not.  A bit of confidence and inquisitiveness..

"My…  My name?"


Cyril spoke clearly and it was not so much apprehension more or less curiosity that made him pause.  He studied the features of the creature, the pale skin like that of a skinned salmon, minus the fine scales, no traces of black lines.  The ears, the nose, the drawn chin and tight skin around the jaws.  He was certain he was a Goblin of sorts; he was not of this world and Cyril knew that.  Cyril did not close his eyes but he wanted to, so he could think and picture what exactly this creature was…  Certainly he knew what it was, he had read many books about monsters, fairies, heroism and magic.

After a long pause he realized he had forgotten to answer and he thought he should.  You never wanted to make a Goblin or magic creature mad afterall.

“Cyril, but most call me Morty or Wart…..  I hate those names…  Like you hate being called an…  “It”?  I am sorry, Mr. Daemos Brick?  I don’t recall any of my friends having a name like that, umm sir.”

Cyril found that name unusual but then again, his first name was Mortimer….  They must have shared something, a strange or unique name.  Cyril took a bold step forward and then felt the chill of the basement.  He was not sure if it was the creature’s presence or that of the damp basement.  He drew his arms around himself and looked back to the stairwell.  

“Well, Mr. Daemos I came to get firewood for the fireplace upstairs.  I know my Dad and Mom do not like the man who came to steal the gas for our home.  My Dad calls it a furnace, I know what it is though. I know he is someone my dad does not like.  I know there are bills, my mom and dad think I do not know.  But I do Mr. Brick, that is why we have had to burn wood.”

Cyril narrowed his eyes and replied,

“I’d let you come upstairs but I am not the man of the house.  I can’t let you enter, I am sorry.  I can bring you a blanket though.  Would you like a blanket?”

Cyril attempted to give the strange thing some comfort but did not invite him up in to the home.  You never invited spirits or fae into you home.  But you also did not make them mad either.  Cyril was clever yet he was not rude, but it was obvious he was not like most 11-year-old children.  He was afraid yes, but he was calm…  Afterall the stairs were further than he could run.  Cyril maintained the best composure a child could in such an awkward situation.

Cyril tightened the grip of his right hand as the creature spoke.  The word “deal” was something he had read a lot about.  In books, there was always something to be returned.  A “deal” was not a deal, without something attached.  He had read the works of C.S Lewis, especially “The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe” and most recently the “Screwtape Letters”.  Cyril responded simply with the best response he could, which was not what some would have responded with.  Cyril took good notes of his skin, clothing, even attempted to see if he had a smell…. Ugly was the creature, strange his request. He was hungry and yet cold.  He offered to fix the problem yet demanded food now before warmth.  

Cyril closed his eyes tight as he thought and bit his lower lip hard.  The cold sinking into his bones, through his young subtle flesh. Cyril with a sincere gaze opened his eyes and stepped closer.  He was shaking but he controlled his breath, it was what a hero would do when frightened after all.

He spoke, “But if you are cold, why are you here and Mr. Brick….  If you can fix the furnace, many others have a furnace that works.  I know it is cold.  I did not know you were hungry…  I thought you were cold.  I do not know what you eat..”

Cyril really showed sincere thought about the situation; however, he was not fully committed.  Cyril was not gullible but kind towards the creature..  Cyril looked directly at Mr. Brick.

“I will not say anything Mr. Brick, but are you hungry or cold?  If you can fix the furnace, why can you not get food?  If you are hungry….”

Cyril reached into his pocket and pulled out a few small peppermints like one would get from a restaurant.  He held out a small hand to Mr. Brick and replied.

“I do not mean to be rude, Mr. Brick.  I keep these when I do not feel like eating, mom and dad do not know.  They taste good.  I have these, Mr. Brick.  You can have them.  Is that a deal?”

Cyril wanted to look back at the stairs but then he was reminded you do not piss off a Goblin and maybe he should not ask so many questions. He also felt running was not in the order of how things would unfold this night.  He looked to the creature as a scared yet inquisitive child would.

Cyril moved as the Goblin filled his jaws with the peppermints to the wall where the light was.  He knew it was a risk but so was something vanishing into the dark that had not answered his questions fully. Cyril was no fool, an old soul or educated blossoming “nerd”.  His young voice grew louder and stronger, strange for one so young.  A powerful voice from a scared young child,

“More food, Mr. Brick?  You never answered my question!!”  

Cyril felt a deeper fear settle in his chest, but he had questions.  Cyril took a deep breath and felt for the light.  He glanced up the stairs and would have ran for them but this was something from one of the books he read.  He had been made fun of by most with his silly imagination and love of history, lore, fiction and non-fiction.  He was not the brawniest boy but he was developing well.  This was real, tangible… Like the cold from the damp dark basement…  He felt it, saw it, smelt it……

Cyril looked back to the shadows and raised his voice a bit louder, almost taunting.  However his voice was still not loud enough to really cause alarm.

“How do I know what you like?  Mr. Brick?”

His voice grew louder and Cyril was certain he was close to the light if anything he could speak louder and someone would hear.  

“Where did you go?  Mr. Brick?!”

Cyril began to fiddle for the light and his heart rose further up into his throat.

Cyril did not understand what was going on now in all honesty.  The strange creature was muttering and mumbling and that loud banging…  It sent a chill up the spine of Cyril but not as much as the mention of having to “talk” to someone outside or the fact that the silhouette of Mr. Brick looked particularly menacing- creeping out the basement window.  Cyril narrowed his eyes once more as if he was dissecting the entire situation.  This child was an oddity and perhaps could make others feel un-nerved as well.  He was smart, cautious, inquisitive and fairly brave.  

The child did not run, the child even questioned something he had no idea of what it was.  All Cyril knew is that, it looked like a Goblin, smelled like a Goblin and was hungry like well…  He guessed Goblins were always hungry…  They were in books after all.  Cyril watched Mr. Brick vanish and meandered over to the fireplace, stepping ever so softly towards the window.  He paused just a moment, and cast a glace up to the open window, the cold chill of the night, bundling up his body like a cloak.  He looked up to the sky and listened just for a moment.  His eyes then looked to the latch of the window.  Cyril had a chance to keep out the Goblin.  

Cyril would if he had to and felt in danger.  

Cyril devoted quite a bit of attention to the sounds from outside as he slipped his hands into his pockets and though.

"Perhaps the other Goblins were coming…  Perhaps they were hungry too?"

He did not have enough food to feed all of them!  Cyril emptied his pockets full of peppermints, grasping them tightly in his hand he placed them neatly in a pile by the furnace.  Cyril really did feel he should not go get Mr. Brick some food, but he had to make sure Daemos was going to be a good Goblin.  While he listened, he began to assess his situation.  How and what ways he could fool a Goblin, was there a metal Goblins were allergic to?  Knowledge from fairytales and books were all the weapons Cyril had at the moment, to protect himself.  He now truly felt like Bilbo Baggins during his “riddles in the dark” with Gollum.

Cyril’s eyes went big and he saw the metal rip open like a can opener through a can of tuna.  Cyril had a thought for a moment,

“What if that was…  My head?”

Cyril felt immediate intimidation and quickly remembered how hungry the Goblin was.  Without a moment thought or hesitation he briskly in a children’s shuffle hustled over to the stairs and started up the stairs.  Cyril had not heard from his parents and they had not been to check on him, this was good.  This meant that they were busy or they had forgotten about him.  Mr. Brick needed food and though Cyril did not fully feel comfortable with Mr. Brick, he did as he promised he would do.  

Afterall a deal was a deal.  This was actually one time he hoped his parents were still arguing, he did not want to break a deal with a Goblin.  Cyril listened for that silent rage, the hushed voices of his mother and father.  It was a quick dash to the kitchen, where hopefully there was food. Cyril peeked into the hall and pushed open the door slowly.  

Mr. Brick had done his family a favor and what would some food hurt?  He was not bound to the Goblin; actually, Cyril did not recall making a deal.  There was no handshake and the Goblin has decided to fix the furnace on his own.  Cyril pondered that thought but still, he was not going to be rude to a creature that could crush his skull like a grape!  Or grind his bones to make his…-gulp-. Bread……….  

Cyril began to think of ways he would respond to any scenario.  He was logical and calculative; he did not act brashly and in the back of his mind he conjured up ideas.  He did not run and do as commanded or reason like most children.  If plan B did not work, well he had the rest of the alphabet to work with.