CHAPTER ONE
THE CAPTURE
Since you’ve opened the cover of this
book, I’d like to get a few things straight. If you’ve already heard of
Alexander Sighs and the leprechauns, there’s more to the story than you think.
My father told me the tale, just as his grandfather told him. But I’ve recently
found an old, old, old diary belonging to the granddaughter of one of
the original characters involved in the quest. After reading it through, I’ve
gained a whole new appreciation for Alexander and his adventures.
Our story begins a long, long time ago in
the last bedroom of the last house on the last street in the kingdom. Two
brothers shared this room, the younger being our hero. The whole quest began on the night when
a commotion outside the room awoke him.
*
Thirteen-year-old Alexander Sighs’
eyes popped open as voices from outside of his window broke the eerie silence
of the night. Pulling the thin blue and green-checkered cover over his head, he
wondered why his brother sleeping in the bunk above didn’t hear the voices.
Alexander placed his hands over his ears and scrunched further into the comfort
of his blankets.
As the voices grew louder, he crawled out
of bed, his curiosity getting the better of him. Creeping toward the window,
Alexander tripped over his brother’s toy catapult and fell into the empty
trophy case. A crash reverberated around the room. His brother shifted in his
sleep and yelled “SCORE!” without waking. Alexander stood motionless until he was
sure his family slept through his acrobatics.
Alexander rubbed his aching head and
limped the rest of the way to the window. He made sure no more of his head than
necessary poked above the sill as he peeked outside. The midnight sky along the
horizon crept above nearby houses, painting a gray and somber scene that
stretched into the distance. A thin moon and almost invisible stars hid behind
the ominous gray coating. It reminded Alexander of the night sky just before
the hideous monster attacks in every horror book he’d ever read.
There it was again—the dim, soft chatter
that woke him in the first place. He couldn’t quite pinpoint where it was
coming from. Suddenly, Alexander was distracted by a dim reddish glow in the
abandoned copper mine on the opposite mountain.
I’ve never seen that before. Wonder what
it is?
*
The voices became silent as Alexander
lingered at the window.
A leprechaun duo, wearing invisibility
cloaks, hid behind a cluster of failed rose bushes and hoped the boy wouldn’t
look down. The bushes, by the way, were planted by Alexander’s mother two years
ago to provide bouquets for his younger sister—if she ever won a beauty pageant. Tending the bushes took time away from
mentoring and rehearsals, so his mom left the roses to fend for themselves.
*
“That was close, O’Toole,” one figure croaked. “The boy might have seen us.” The
leprechaun crouched behind the rose bush and tried his best to peek around it.
A slightly larger leprechaun stood
motionless, his back against the faded, weather-stained siding. “Malley, you
worry too much. Our cloaks prevent detection. Well, at least according to the
trolls who sold them to us.”
Malley stepped away from the bush, but his
gaze did not leave the window. “One cannot be too cautious,” he whispered,
“even when dressed in invisibility cloaks. Help me up, O’Toole. I’ll stand on
your shoulders to see if he’s still at the window.”
“That would be beneficial, Malley,”
O’Toole scratched his beard while surveying the scene, “if it wasn't such an
idiotic idea. Besides, if anyone were to be on a shoulder, it would be
me.”
“You’re mistaken. I would certainly be on
your shoulders since you outweigh me,” Malley insisted.
“Outweigh you and out think you”
smirked O’Toole, tapping his noggin.
Malley thought for a moment. “What do you
mean?”
“We cannot chance the boy seeing us—not
yet. We are to observe and take no other action.” O’Toole swatted at a curious
grasshopper that apparently could see through the cloaks. In fact, the presence
of the two leprechauns seemed to draw more attention than not from nearby
insects, as two more grasshoppers investigated.
“I think we might have bought defective
robes,” Malley observed.
O’Toole's eyes narrowed. He stood
with his feet apart and rested his fisted hands on his hips. “We cannot alter
our plans. And this is the last time I trust anything sold by a troll.”
“True, our plans are paramount. Could I
get a refresher on exactly what our plans happen to be?” Malley picked up a
rock and glanced at the window.
“Our orders
are to find the wee sleeping baby we placed on a doorstep thirteen years ago.
But it’s dark, and all these houses look the same.” O’Toole stared at his
accomplice and shook his head. “And put that rock down!”
“Are we sure we have the right house? I
would hate to get arrested for stalking the wrong child again,” asked Malley,
tossing the rock up and catching it.
O’Toole heaved a mighty sigh. “No, I’m not
positive this is the right place.” He glanced at a small piece of paper. “But
we must find the boy and coax him to follow us. Later. Not now.”
“Well, just how are we to get him to
follow us if he can’t see us?” Malley wondered.
“Maybe the trolls did us a favor, after
all,” said O’Toole said, tugging at his defective invisibility cloak. “He’ll
see us, all right, but only when we’re ready.”
Malley studied the windowpane. He tossed
the rock into the air again and nearly dropped it. “How will we know we’ve
found the right middle child?”
“Questions, questions, questions!” O’Toole was tempted to smack his young
accomplice on the top of his head but didn’t want Malley to cause a scene.
Instead, he lurched for the rock, knocking his friend to the ground.
“Hey! What was that for!” protested
Malley, dusting himself off. “And you still haven’t answered my question.”
“If he can survive the journey,
we’ll know he’s the right middle child,” explained O’Toole. “If he perishes,
then we chose wrong and will blame the whole ordeal on the darkness and the
look-alike houses.”
Malley scratched his head, pondering
the logic. “Well, we better be careful then. The kingdom frowns on perished
children. Very messy, and it brings unwanted attention.”
Neither Malley nor O’Toole noticed
Alexander sneaking behind them holding a large burlap bag.
*
Horror flashed across Malley’s face as he
stared over O’Toole’s shoulder. The bag came swooping down. Somehow, the middle
child they were observing turned the tables and observed them. Malley tried to
warn O’Toole before the bag opened. It was too late. The bag dropped over him
like a shadow and—thump. He landed on top of poor O’Toole, knocking him out as
he tumbled into the sack.
“You’re mistaken if you believe a captured
leprechaun is compelled to take you to a pot of gold,” Malley yelled to his
captor. “Besides, we are merely circus acrobats looking for the ideal setting
to practice our act.”
I
know what you’re thinking. How can a young boy the size of Alexander capture a
couple of leprechauns? How could he also pick up the bag once he captured them?
The answer is simple as a matter of fact there is even a college offered in the
subject at the University of Dublin Junior College.
I could wait for you to take the class, but seeing you are
probably in a much younger class, I’ll tell you.
Magic. Yup, you heard me right. Magical creatures, which
might look to be heavy, are in fact much lighter once you capture them.
A dragon is very huge and scary, but once captured it can be
handled by the smallest of children. Everybody knows a couple of leprechauns
are much smaller than a dragon, thus easy to carry in a small burlap bag.
“You’re mistaken if you believe a captured
leprechaun is compelled to take you to a pot of gold,” Malley yelled to his
captor. “Besides, we are merely circus acrobats looking for the ideal setting
to practice our act.”
No one answered.
“We can find another place to practice.
It’s just, well, your house was so inviting. My friend here is a sucker for
dead rose bushes. He chose the house. The fault is entirely his, not mine. I’m
sure if he were conscious, he would clarify the whole sticky mess.”
His captor continued to carry the burlap
bag.
“I don’t suppose you could give me the
time? We have a train to catch.”
Alexander stared at the burlap bag. “It’s
way past my bedtime. There are no trains around for miles. Now hush while I try
to decide what to do with you.”
“We are also wearing Invisibility Cloaks,
so technically you’re not supposed to see us. If you’re unable to see us, you
can’t capture us. So, be a good little lad and set us free. You’re dreaming.”
“You must mean ‘visibility cloaks’ because
I saw you,” said Alexander. “Now hush up!”
“Tell you what. If you help me wake my
friend, we can decide together where you can hide us. O’Toole has a mind for
such details. I'm more of a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants type of leprechaun. He plans everything out
to the last detail. It wouldn’t surprise me one bit if our capture were all a
part of his plans. He is very precise.”
Alexander passed by a few old sawhorses and stopped
at the family shed. His father used to store garden tools inside, but they
disappeared years ago, about the same time his brother got a new wood sword.
Now only old beauty pageant ramps and a few paintings of Alexander from before
his sister was born he became a middle child were enclosed in the shed which
happened to be locked.
A voice filtered up through the bag. “Are
you still there?”
Alexander ignored it.
“I have two words for you. LET US GO!” The
muffled voice commanded.
Alex shook the bag. “That’s three words,
and no. I’m going to lock you in if I can find the key.”
“I told you, O’Toole’s the bright one. And
the key to the shed is under the fake rock.”
Alex searched everywhere for the fake rock
and elusive key. He even kicked real stones aside, hoping to find it.
“There is no fake rock,” he declared,
returning to the leprechaun-filled bag.
“No fake rock? Imagine that. There’s
always a fake rock in plays. Did you look under the real rocks?”
Alexander plopped himself on the hard
lawn, propping his arms on his knees and cupping his weary head in his hands. What
am I going to do? I’m tired of dealing with this annoying, fast-talking leprechaun and his unconscious friend. He sighed before answering the voice in
the bag.
“Yes, I’ve looked everywhere. It’s getting
late. I’m tired. I wish my imaginary friend still talked. She would know what
to do.”
“I wish I could help you, but I’m not
smart. O’Toole is the smart one. He can help you.”
“I can just leave you here until the
morning.” Alex grabbed the wood horse and helped himself up.
“No, wait! I have a plan. Wow, imagine
that—Malley with a plan. My wife would be so proud of me.”
“What’s your plan?” Alexander asked with
apprehension.
“Plan?” Malley asked from within the
burlap bag. “Oh yeah, my plan. If you let us go, I promise we will return to
the bag if you are not one hundred percent satisfied with my idea.”
Alexander held the bag at eye level.
“Hmmm… you’ll return to the bag?” He peered at it with suspicion. “And I’m to
trust you because …”
“On my honor as a former Cub Scout, you
can trust me,” Malley swore. Leprechauns have never been scouts of any kind,
but Alexander’s father never
found the time to enroll him in Cub Scouts, so he didn’t know that fact.
“Okay, but remember, I’m watching you.
Don’t make any funny moves.” Alexander released his grip on the bag.
“I promise on my word as a scout, I will
be on my best behavior.” Malley crossed his fingers behind his back. “Please,
help me revive my friend.”
Alexander scrunched his nose in disgust as
he glanced at the little person lying on the ground. It was as if his parents
were forcing him to eat spinach.
“Revive your friend yourself. I have no
idea how to revive a munchkin.”
Malley stood up and pushed his shoulders
back. “We aren’t munchkins. We’re leprechauns. There’s a big difference.”
Alex got down on his knees and shrugged as
Malley spoke.
“You don’t even know the difference,”
Malley sneered with disgust. “Once upon a time, we ruled the forests. People
never confused us for munchkins. Leprechauns are real, and munchkins aren’t. No
wonder rainbows are disappearing. Humanity has lost its belief in us.”
Alex's mouth rounded into a circle,
surprised at the comment. “What did you say about lost rainbows?”
“Lost rainbows? Kid, you’re having hearing
problems. I never said a word about them or munchkins, or nobody believing in
us,” Malley lied. “Maybe if we blow in his nose, my friend will revive,” he said quickly. “See, it doesn’t even
sound like rainbows.”
“Come on. I heard you. Tell me about the
rainbows, or I’ll stuff you back into the bag.” Alexander put on his angry
face.
Malley tilted his head and raised his
eyebrow. “Oh, I get it—just because I’m a leprechaun, I should know all about
rainbows. Kid, that’s profiling.”
Alex placed his hands on his hips and
curled his lips. “What?”
“Never mind. Do you know CPR or something
useful?” Malley lifted his friend’s eyelid, looking deep into the unfocused eye
and pushing his finger into his passed-out friend’s ear. “Maybe you could
perform mouth-to-mouth on him before it’s too late."
“I’m not going anywhere near him. You do
it. He’s your friend.” Alex raised his hands in protest, taking one-step back.
“Plus, if you were a Cub Scout, you’d know CPR.”
Malley peered down at his unconscious
friend and mentor. “He looks so peaceful, and it would be a shame to stir him.
Maybe he will wake up on his own, probably in a few hundred years or so.” The
short, stout leprechaun fidgeted with something in his pocket.
“What are you doing?” Alex asked while
moving closer to his captive.
“Me? Doing? I'm just doing a little trick
we leprechauns call covering our tracks.” He pulled his hands from his pocket,
put them to his mouth, and blew yellow dust in Alexander's direction. He and
Malley vanished.
“Bye, sucker,” were the last words Alex
had heard before the mist cleared away.
And so, the leprechaun tricked him. Lied,
actually, Alex thought, because he promised to return to the bag if I
didn’t like the plan. Well, I hate the plan.
So by all rights, the leprechauns should
be in the bag. And Alex felt they should have the common decency to tell him
why they were stalking him. At the least, he wanted to hear about the
disappearing rainbows.
