One of Life’s Little Mysteries

By:  Vanessa Sgroi

Quarters jingled softly in his pockets as Johnny Gage walked around his apartment gathering up various pieces of clothing to wash.  In accompaniment to the jingling, the paramedic whistled a jaunty tune.  A few hours of sleep after coming off shift had revived him, and he was ready to tackle many of the chores he’d put off all week; laundry being one of them.  It didn’t take very long for his large basket to be filled to overflowing.  His black work socks and white athletic socks mingled, hanging limply over the sides of the laundry basket waiting to be sorted.

Placing his burden by the door, Gage walked to the kitchen to grab a can of pop from the refrigerator.  Drink in hand; he snagged the new Executioner thriller novel he’d just bought off the counter.  Contrary to what many people thought, Johnny actually enjoyed reading books; particularly Mack Bolan thrillers.  Feeling equipped to cope with quality time in the laundry room, the dark-haired man smiled.  Johnny was almost out of the kitchen when the phone rang.  With a grunt, he whirled around and grabbed the receiver off the hook.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Roy.”

“What’s up, partner?”

“Are you still up to helping me this afternoon?”

“Yeah.  Yeah, I’ll be over a little later.  I’m gonna do my laundry now.  Then I’ll head on over.”

“Great.  Hey, afterward we’re going to throw some steaks on the grill.  Can I count you in?”

“You know it, Pally.  Sounds good to me.”

“All right.  I’ll see you later.”

“Yep.  Bye.”

Johnny’s whistling resumed as he grabbed the basket and trooped down to the basement laundry room.

He was pleased to see that the room was unoccupied.  He’d learned from experience that it was a little too late in the day for the old-timer crowd and far too early for any of the hot chicks in the building.  It didn’t take Gage long to sort his clothes into three good-sized loads.  He filled three of the washing machines, added detergent, and set them to running before sitting down in one of the half dozen hard plastic orange chairs lined up against the wall.  Opening his drink and then his paperback, he sighed contentedly, waiting for the machines to do their work.

Twenty-five minutes later the last of the washing machines stopped whirling, signaling the loads were done.  Johnny jumped up and quickly transferred the wet clothes to dryers, fed them quarters, and eagerly returned to his book.  When the buzzers sounded some time later, Gage reluctantly put his book down on an adjacent chair and got up to empty the machines.  This was the part he hated most about washing clothes.  Washing and drying them wasn’t bad but, man, did he hate to fold.

The dark-haired paramedic made short work of the first two loads and was almost done with the third when he noticed something strange.  He stared at the socks he’d just paired up and was puzzled to see he was missing two of them.  One sock was gone from the six pair of black work socks; and one gone from the eight pair of white athletic socks.  That can’t be.  I know they were there when I put them in washer.  Johnny peeked in the dryer once again, confirming that it was indeed empty.  Throwing his hands to his hips in frustration, he marched over to the three washing machines he’d used and inspected them for the missing socks.  Nothing.

Returning to the dryer, Johnny decided he must simply be overlooking them.  Kneeling on the floor, the paramedic stuck his hand inside the machine to feel around.  Not ready to give up, he stuck his head inside for a closer look.

Suddenly, Gage felt a strange pulling-sucking sensation.  He tried to jerk back but couldn’t.  The next thing he knew he was falling.  Not just falling, but falling and spinning end over end; a black void enveloping him.  Too stunned to even cry out, the dark-haired man closed his eyes and waited apprehensively for the dizzying ride to be over.

Johnny landed with a thud in a thick, oozing pool of mud.  Gasping at its coldness, he pushed himself up on his hands and knees and gradually stood straight.  With a sigh of disgust, the slender man wiped the mud from his face and wiped ineffectually at his clothes.  The sun was out but it was quite chilly, and he shivered.  Oh, man.  I can’t believe this.  Where the heck am I?

A careful survey of his surroundings revealed little.  In the immediate area was sparse grass interspersed with giant mud puddles; in the near distance, a forest of green trees.  There wasn’t a sign of civilization.  Oh, this can’t be good.  Seeing no other choice but to start walking, Johnny headed for the copse of trees; the ground uneven and slippery beneath his gym shoes.

He hadn’t gone very far when a tiny voice rang out.

“Stop where you are!”

“Huh?,” Gage skidded to a stop and his head whipped around looking for the source of the voice, “Who said that?”

“I did.”

The paramedic realized the voice was coming from somewhere near the ground and looked down.  His mouth dropped open.  Four little men with pointy red hats and long white beards stood behind him.

“Uh . . . umm . . . who . . . what, I mean, who are you?”

“I am Laikin.  Who are you?”

“John.  Johnny Gage.”  Still unable to believe what he was seeing, Johnny rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.  They were still there when he looked again.

“Well, John Johnny Gage,  My friends here are Rol, Prap, and Widger.  How do you come to be here?”

Gage gestured with both hands.  “Uh, where’s here?”

“You’re in the Land of Ever Twilight.”

“The Land of . . .” Johnny shook his head in bewilderment certain he must be dreaming, “. . . uh . . . I don’t know how I got . . . here.  I was doing laundry. One minute I’m looking for some missing socks in the dryer and then—WHAM!”

“Oh, dear me, not another one,” the gnome named Laikin exclaimed.

Gage shivered as a particularly strong gust of wind eddied around him.  “Another one?”

“Carelessness—that’s what it is.  Sheer carelessness,” the gnome made a tsking sound and shook his head in consternation.

“Huh?”

The wizened little creature sighed, setting his beard a-quiver.  “I guess I should explain.  It is sock harvest time.  We, the gnomes, harvest what you humans call socks.”

“You do?  But, why?”

“Why?  We use them for clothes.  They are the perfect size, you see.  I am wearing some we harvested last season.”

Johnny took a closer look at the gnome’s vest and was surprised to see that it was indeed made from two mismatched blue socks.

“B-b-but how?”

“Ah, John Johnny Gage, that . . . that . . . involves a little magic.  We open a small portal and harvest the socks—one or two at a time from the hot boxes where they spin around.  Unfortunately, some of the gnomes are a bit careless and don’t close the portal properly when they’re done.  Thus, we get visitors like you from time to time.”

“You mean this has happened to other people?”

“Unfortunately, yes.  More often than I’d like to admit.”

“And . . . and what happened to these other people?”

“Why, we ate them, of course.”

Gage paled and stumbled back a few steps in shock.

Loud guffaws of laughter from Rol, Prap, and Widger clued the dark-haired man into the joke.

Laikin began to chuckle, “I am sorry, John Johnny Gage.  Forgive me for teasing you so.  Most go back home.”

Johnny’s expression brightened for a moment until one word sunk in.

“M-m-most?”

The talkative gnome shook his head somewhat somberly before replying.

“We lose one now and again.”

“You do?”

“Things happen.”

“I can get home though?”

“Yes.  Yes, chances are you can get back home, but . . .”

“But?”

“We need to get you to Gunhilda’s hut.  Gunhilda is a grand witch with much power.  She can send you back.”

“Great!  Let’s go!”  With long strides, Gage started off again.

“Not so fast.  I must warn you of the danger.”

The paramedic stopped in his tracks and the four gnomes scurried to catch up.

“Oh, it’s bad, bad, bad,” exclaimed Widger.  Rol and Prap nodded vigorously in agreement.  Even Laikin dipped his head, acknowledging the truth.

“Bad?”

“We must travel through troll territory to reach her.”

“And troll territory is bad?”

“Oh, indeed, yes.  The trolls are always on the hunt for hapless gnomes, fairies, sprites, and others who wander into their territory by mistake,” Laikin shuddered as he spoke, “Terrible things happen to them if they’re caught.  We must try to avoid Gluug and his band of trolls.”

“O-okay.  Which way do we go?”

Laikin pointed.  “We go this way.”

* * *

Roy knocked at his partner’s door a second time.  Still no answer.  The blond-haired man looked at his watch again.  When Johnny hadn’t shown up at his house after a couple of hours, Roy had called the apartment expecting his partner to answer and have some crazy excuse.  After calling for a half hour with no luck, the senior paramedic had decided to take a ride over and check on him.

Now with Johnny’s Land Rover still in the parking lot but no answer at the door, Roy was growing worried.

* * *

The dark-haired man started off in that direction, immediately shortening his strides when he noticed the gnomes were struggling to keep up.  He shivered again when a cloud obscured the feeble warmth of the sun.  The mud on his clothing was slowly drying, making them stiff and uncomfortable.

After several minutes of silence, Johnny began asking the gnomes some questions to pass the time.  They moved deeper into the forest.

Before too long, they came to a rapid river.  A small bridge spanned the rushing, tumbling water.  Rol, Prap, and Widger nimbly mounted the bridge and started across.  Laiken looked at the tall human standing next to him.

“I am sorry, John Johnny Gage.  Our bridge is too small to bear your weight.  You will have to cross through the water.”

Johnny stared at the brownish, roiling, foaming water in dismay.  “Oh, man!  Are you sure?”

“Yes, oh, yes.  Very sure.”  Laiken stepped on the bridge and started crossing.

With a grimace, the slender man stepped into the water and gasped at its coldness.  He waded deeper into the river.  The rushing current tugged relentlessly at his legs threatening to knock him off balance.  Johnny had reached the middle of the river where the water was waist high.  Goosebumps rose on his arms and he shuddered.  Half way there.  Half way there.   Without warning, Johnny’s foot slipped, and he went under.  Struggling hard against the current, Gage finally regained his footing and stood up.  Water streamed from his sable hair.  Sheer determination finally got him to the other side.  Sinking down on the bank for just a moment, Johnny worked to get his breath back.  The four gnomes hovered around him.  Rising to his feet, he motioned with his hand, and said, “Let’s go.”  He groaned at the feel of cold, wet denim clinging to his legs.  His white T-shirt clung to his chest, too thin to protect him from the chill in the air.

* * *

Puzzled, Roy decided to use his spare key to let himself into his partner’s apartment.  He walked through each room calling Johnny’s name.  He was relieved not to find Gage laying injured somewhere.

The blond-haired man decided to check out the building’s laundry room since Johnny had specifically mentioned that chore.  He left the apartment and went in search of the laundry room.  After ten minutes of searching, he found it.  Opening the door, Roy looked around, noting that the room was empty.

Venturing in further, he noticed a pop can, an open book, and some folded laundry that he recognized has Johnny’s.  But, his partner was nowhere in sight.

* * *

The gnomes began to chatter among themselves, leaving Gage to his chilled misery.   His shoes squelched as he began to walk.  Dreams of a hot cup of coffee filled his head as he trudged behind the little gnomes.  His longing for coffee grew by leaps and bounds when he felt the first hard drops of rain spatter against his face.  Man, this just keeps getting better and better.

The four gnomes in front of him stopped dead in their tracks.  Johnny barely managed to avoid mowing them all down.

“Ssshhh,” cautioned Laikin, “we are now in troll territory.  Gluug and his minions will be on the lookout.”

Gage looked around him curiously.  “How do you know?  That we’re in troll territory I mean?”

“We crossed the line.”

“We did?  I didn’t see anything.”

“Oh, it’s not a visible line.  It’s just a feeling.  Do you not feel that . . . tension . . . in the air?”

“Uh . . . no,” Johnny replied after a few seconds.

“I forget that you humans are less perceptive than us.  Come, we must continue on.”

The gnomes scurried ahead, nervousness now marking their movements.  Johnny squinted through the rain and moved to catch up.  A few minutes later, he felt a faint rumbling beneath the soles of his shoes.  He opened his mouth to ask Laikin what it was when suddenly the four of them squealed in fear.

“The trolls!  The trolls! They’re coming!  Hide!  Hide!” Laikin yelled.  Each gnome ran off in a different direction.

Not knowing what to do, Johnny remained where he was.  From behind him came a wheezing roar, and he whipped his head around.  Some of the ugliest creatures he’d ever seen were bearing down on him fast.  In one glance, he took in their greenish-brown skin, tufts of wild matted hair, close set piggish eyes; and above all their oversized, razor-sharp, and plentiful teeth.

And then he was running.

“Up!  John Johnny Gage, go up!”

It took a second for Laikin’s meaning to sink in.  Then Johnny grabbed a low branch on the nearest tree and began to haul himself up.  The rain made it difficult to get a good grip, and he slipped several times.  While he struggled to pull himself upward, Johnny felt a fist close around his ankle.  Gage kicked hard trying unsuccessfully to dislodge the claw.  He gasped as the powerful grip tightened painfully.  Razor sharp nails pierced his skin.  Kicking out again, Johnny somehow managed to dislodge the troll’s claw--but only for a second.  Moving faster than Johnny would have thought possible, the troll wrapped both hands around his leg and began to pull.  Johnny’s arms ached with the strain of holding on.

“Hey, hey!  Over here.  Over here,” a small voice called out.

Gluug quit pulling on his prey and turned toward the sound.  Johnny, too, turned to look.

The gnome known as Rol had come out of hiding and was standing with his arms raised in the air.   

“Here, you big smelly, nasty trolls.  Come.  Come and get me.”

The three trolls, sensing an easy catch, did just as Rol bid and started toward him.

“No!  Rol, no!  Don’t!”  Johnny yelled.

But it was too late.  The gnome took off at a run with the trolls on his heels.  The chase didn’t last long, and Rol’s final cry echoed in the trees.  Satisfied for now, the trolls lumbered off with their prize.

Silence descended and after a few moments, the remaining gnomes emerged from their hiding places.  Johnny dropped out of the tree, stunned that the little gnome had sacrificed his own life to save his.

He limped over to the gnomes.  “Shouldn’t . . . shouldn’t we go after them?”

“No.  It is too late.”

“But . . . but . . . maybe there’s something I . . . I can do.  We can’t just . . .”

“It is too late.  We must continue on to Gunhilda’s.  You will not return home after dark.”

With a sorrowful glance in the direction the marauding trolls had taken, Johnny sighed and limped off behind the little men.  Rain continued to fall from the sky.

At long last Gunhilda’s hut appeared in the distance.  As they approached, Laikin began calling out her name.

The crone who answered the door looked exactly like Johnny pictured a witch to look.  Her skin wasn’t green and she didn’t wear a pointy black hat but otherwise she fit the image perfectly.

Johnny hesitated at the door, reluctant to go any further.  A hard push from behind dissolved his reluctance, and he stumbled through the door.  The gnomes followed.

“Another one, Laikin?” the hag cackled, “When will you gnomes learn to close that portal properly?”

“I know, Gunhilda, I know.  I must talk with the harvesters again.  For now, we need to send John Johnny Gage back.”

“Yes.  Yes.  I know what you’re here for.  You always bring them to me.  I must whip up the potion.”

“Potion?”  The word made Gage nervous.

“That is what I said.  Potion.  You must drink it in order to go back.  But, be warned.  It is likely to make you a bit ill.  Humans seem to have a weak stomach when it comes to this brew.”

“Great.  Just great.”  He was chilled to the bone, his ankle was throbbing, and now he was likely to get sick from whatever the witch was concocting.

“Sit down.  Sit down.  It will take but a few minutes for the brew to be done.”

Johnny gratefully sank down onto the rickety-looking stool in front of the fireplace.  If nothing else, he had a chance to warm up a bit.

The gnomes, too, gathered around the fire for warmth.

After several minutes of puttering around, opening stone jars and tiny burlap bags, Gunhilda filled a goblet with liquid.  She added several unidentifiable ingredients and stirred vigorously with wooden spoon.  Several times, she stopped to sniff the brew, adding more things as she deemed necessary.  Finally, she cackled in delight as the potion was now perfectly proportioned.  She carried the goblet over to the tall human.

“Drink.”

Gage looked into the goblet and cringed.  Its contents looked like nothing he’d ever seen before.  There were things floating in the cup.  The rancid odor was already making him nauseous.

“This is the only way?”

“If you want to go back, yes, it’s the only way.  It is best to drink it down all at once.”

Tightly closing his eyes, Johnny brought the cup to his lips and drank.  As fast as the liquid was going down, it was trying to come back up.  It took all of his willpower to keep the concoction in his stomach.  When he was done, he dropped the goblet to the floor.

“Now just sit there for a moment and let it work.”

The dark-haired man nodded his head, afraid that if he opened his mouth, the witch’s brew would make a sad reappearance.

Everyone in the room stared at the human for several long minutes.

“It is time,” announced Gunhilda.

Laikin walked over and patted Johnny on his knee, “Goodbye, John Johnny Gage.  Safe travel.”

“Goodbye, Laikin.  I . . . I’m sorry about Rol.”

The little gnome cocked his head to the side in acknowledgement.

Gunhilda snorted.  “Come, come!  Time is short.”

“What do I do?”

“Stand up and face that wall,” the witch pointed to the far wall of the little stone hut.

Johnny did as instructed, feeling his stomach cramp.

“Now walk straight into that wall.  Do not stop.”

“But . . .”

“Straight into that wall!”

So he did.  He walked forward toward the wall.  Just when he thought he was going to smack right into it, the wall melted away, and he was falling.  Once again blackness swirled around him as he tumbled.

* * *

Roy had just exited the laundry room and pulled the door closed behind him when he heard a loud thud.  Throwing open the door, he stared in amazement at the sight of his partner sprawled on the laundry room floor.  What the hell . . .

“Johnny!”

His answer was a low moan.

Roy rushed into the room and over to his partner’s side.

“Johnny?  Are you okay?”  The senior paramedic noted his partner’s muddy, disheveled appearance.

“Ahhhh, am I . . . am I back?”

“Back?  Hey, partner, what happened?  Are you okay?”

“Roy?  Hey . . . I . . . I made it.”  Johnny pulled himself up.  He tried to walk but hissed in pain as his ankle protested further movement.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s just . . . my ankle, that’s all . . . uh oh,”  Unable to control his nausea any longer, Gage doubled over and emptied his stomach, “Ah, man, she . . . she wasn’t kidding.”

Roy looked at his partner in confusion.  The younger man was making no sense.

“Johnny, I think I need to take you to Rampart.”  Roy was still trying to figure out exactly how his partner had mysteriously reappeared.

“Uh . . . huh . . . I think so . . . too.” he managed to mutter between heaves.

The senior paramedic wrapped an arm around Johnny’s shoulders in support and to help guide him out to the car.

“Hey . . . Roy.”

“Yeah?”

“One word of advice . . . don’t . . . don’t EVER go looking for missing socks in the dryer.”

“I trust you’ll explain that comment.”

“Uh . . . maybe . . . maybe someday.  Hey, on the way back, I need to pick up some socks,” the last worded ended in a groan.

Roy shook his head in disbelief.  He would never ever understand his partner’s special brand of insanity.  I can’t wait to hear what he has to say to Brackett.

* * *  The End  * * *

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*Sock drawing by Chelsea

Stories By Vanessa Sgroi     Sock It To Me Page