In late February 2020, I worked on a move towards the Philadelphia region. We lived out in the mountains, in the middle of nowhere, three hours away from the new apartment. To complete the move, I had to make many trips back and forth with a loaded car. We didn’t know how big of a moving truck to rent, and it seemed easier since we were downgrading a house into an apartment and a storage unit, but a move is a move—one of the nine circles of Hell.
One weekend, I packed the Subaru to the gills, loaded her until I could barely move my arms. Those rides through the mountains were not ones I’d like to revisit. I’m six foot two inches tall and it felt like being smashed into an airliner with no way to move my legs. All I could do was press the petals and twist to relieve my circulation.
Before getting into the car, I made an offer to my invisible friends living and visiting the house.
“If anyone with good intentions wants to come with me, you’re more than welcome.” I described I was moving into an apartment in a very populated area. It would be a smaller place, and not necessarily one my friends would enjoy.
This was a depressing, emotion filled time for me. I had many friends I knew would stay behind. It was also unhappy because I was attracting even more attention from the Fae world that last year, attention I thought might disappear with a move to the city. A myriad of beings, goblins, elves, some I can’t even describe, would visit. Some would stick around. Some would stay temporarily.
On that February weekend, when the cold is hitting the Pennsylvania region, I set out towards the turnpike. About thirty minutes into the drive, I reached the toll booths.
Rolling down my window by pushing on the door’s button, I grabbed the ticket the machine spit out announcing my painful tax for using the roadway. As I left the booth, I pulled up on the window’s control… and it jammed.
I drive down the highway, messing with the window, trying to raise it closed. It would skip, grind, slide a little, but failed to smoothly close. I continued to test it along the turnpike, thinking, “What the hell is going on?”
I hadn’t been paying attention to my intuitive nature, and that’s what stirred up the trouble. Nearing the exit of the turnpike, I rolled the window back down, payed the booth teller, and continued arguing with my window as I turned on to the state highway.
Then I heard it.
An uproarious, pleased with itself, laugh.
In the corner of my vision, a short, heavyset goblin, maybe six to eight inches high, stood to the side of the headrest, leaning against a stack of boxes and bags. He laughed and laughed.
I shook my head in relief, realizing it wasn’t my car that was the problem. Someone hitched a ride. After a bit, I asked, “Can you fix my window, now?”
He stopped laughing and said, “It should work now.”
I pulled the switch, and the window closed in a single smooth action. After the window closed, I asked, “What are you doing?”
The goblin smiled, “You invited me along, and I was bored. So I thought I’d have some fun.” He sat by my shoulder for some time before disappearing into the back of the car.
I don’t know if he ever made it to the apartment or if he just wanted to go for a car ride. When I arrived at the apartment, I didn’t see him around. After my first or second night here, I realized a brownie lived here, too. And the brownie doesn’t appear to be fond of goblins, chasing several off who have tried to come home. I think of my little passenger from time to time, wondering if he found others to prank, especially those who pay little attention to him and his kind.
So, remember, the next time you experience a technical issue or can’t find your keys, it may be a goblin playing a trick on you.
Image courtesy of Pixabay
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