Haley Thistle
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Giert the Goblin: Part One (special preview)
🕑 Added 2023-07-19 21:00:00 +0000 UTCYou live in a small apartment building, so little, in fact, there are only four apartments. You live upstairs where the only access is a staircase from the outside. Your neighbor on the top floor is a mechanic whose shop is just next door to the building. So often times, you see him come in from work, wringing his dirty hands and his coveralls covered in grease, oil, and perspiration.
You work across town at the mega mall where you work as a perfume girl. Yes, one of those perfume girls. The annoying one who spritz you with perfume as soon as you’re least expecting it. You can understand your neighbor’s plight of coming home smelling like rust and elbow grease. You just so happen to come home reeking of so much Chanel and Dior you can actually feel it dripping from your pores.
The first thing you usually do when you get home is strip out of your perfume soaked clothes and get into a shower. Sometimes it helps, but you can’t tell. You’ve gotten so used to the thick fog of perfume and cologne that it isn’t until friends visit that you realize how much of it follows you home.
You wonder how your neighbor deals with his smells. The scent of raw metal, oil, gas, and hard work always surround him whenever you bump into him in the halls. Although there have been a few times where he is dressed a bit nicer than normal, and the only thing you smell is laundry detergent.
He’s a Goblin too, so you find it hard to talk to him. In fact, you’re sure that the only things you’ve said to him are greetings. Hello, good morning, good evening, have a nice day. All those boring little pleasantries. You’ve always thought Goblins were cranky and mean by nature, but you know that’s a hurtful stereotype and you’ve been trying to push all of that from your head since before you even moved in.
One day, you’re coming home from a rather hard day of work. You dealt with some nasty customers and then had to have a meeting with your boss. It was as humiliating as it was unnecessary. A customer complained about something that wasn’t even your fault and you were taken to the manager. Oh sure, he said he understood, but the way he talked made you feel like a child. Then the way he told you to show more skin made you want to vomit.
As you were unlocking your door, the most terrifying thing happened. The key snapped off in the lock. You stare at the jagged nub attached to your keychain, jaw dropped and eyes wide. In vain, you attempt to reconnect the two-piece, even if just to turn the lock. You slam the metal against one another, hoping for some sort of melding to occur.
When nothing happens, and you’re left in the hallway to contemplate your bad luck, you break down. You slam your forehead to the door as the tears start to flow freely. Your body shudders and trembles as you cry. Holding your hands to your face, you sniffle and snot into the palms of your gloves.
The front door opens, and your neighbor walks in, looking a little worse for the wear himself. He’s whistling, but the tune immediately stops as he sees your blubbering form hitting your forehead against the door.
You start to walk by, going to his own door but as he lifts his key, he sighs. His shoulders slouch, and he turns around.
“You alright?” He asks with a gruff voice.
You whimper and snivel and hold up the nub leftover from your key.
“Oh,” he comes towards you, walking under you as he looks at the key in the lock. “That’s some luck you got there.”
You try to say something, but it all comes out as squeaky whining that’s unintelligible to anybody.
He huffs and shakes his head. “I can fix it for you. Just give me an hour. I’m starving and need a shower.” He unlocks his door then turns to you. “Stop crying, calm the fuck down,” he grumps. “Come in.”
You sniffle and rub at your eyes. “Thank you,” you whimper.
