Fumblethumbs – The Young Leprechaun

By Laurence Bishop

Fumblethumbs, a young Leprechaun, is abducted by a character named O’Bleery and whisked off to a place in Southern England. With the help of a fairy, he escapes and seeks the help of six young children to return safely to Ireland.

The children enter into a magical world of leprechauns, fairies, goblins and other such creatures, one of which is Grandpa Fiddlesticks, noted for the way he twists proverbial truths.

They embark on a series of adventure, including witches and even a mermaid.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Aug 8, 2014
• ISBN: 9781312420298

Book preview

Fumblethumbs – The Young Leprechaun

FUMBLETHUMBS -

The young leprechaun

Laurence Bishop

Copyright © 2014, Laurence Bishop

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of both publisher and author. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

ISBN: 978-1-312-42029-8

Acknowledgement

Many thanks are due to Johanne for enormous help in bringing this project to fruition and to Lulu for launching it.

This story is purely a work of fiction. Although the places mentioned are indeed real, the characters, as well as the attributes and events connected with them, are just a product of the writer’s imagination.

PART ONE

(HOMEWARD BOUND)

--------------------

CHAPTER 1

Christopher Bacon (Chris for short among his friends or Crispy among those of his peers who could not pass up the opportunity of reflecting on his family name) awoke with a start. He was usually a sound sleeper but tonight something had roused him into consciousness. He rolled on his side to see the time by the bedside clock. Both hands were on twelve! It was midnight!

The sound came again. An urgent tap-tapping at his window.  It was a blustery night and he reasoned that it must be the branches of a tree brushing against the window. Momentarily reassured, he turned back and flopped the blankets over his head. The next minute, he sat up abruptly with a sudden revelation.

There were no trees outside his bedroom window!

Again the sound came—louder and more urgently than before. Chris switched on his bedside lamp and slid out of bed. He tiptoed softly to the window and peered cautiously out. There was no sign of anything that could have produced the tapping noise.

He was about to turn away when the tapping came again and a muted voice called: Hey! Open up. I can’t hang on here for ever!

Chris pressed his nose to the windowpane and scanned more carefully all around. Nothing! The rapping came again, right where his nose was. He sprang back in surprise.

The faint voice came again: Hey, open up! What are you waiting for?

A strange stab of fear caused Chris’s heart to miss a beat, but the next minute, an overwhelming feeling of curiosity came over him. He pushed back the catch and eased the window open a little to get a better look outside. As if by itself, the window swung open wider and he felt something brush past his arm, followed immediately by the sound of light feet landing on the floor.

About time, too, came a voice out of nowhere. I thought you were never going to wake up.

Chris swung round and jumped back. His head struck the metal window frame.

Ouch! he exclaimed, rubbing his head and glancing round the room. Who are you? What are you? Where are you? What’s going on?

"That makes one-two-three-four questions. Are you in the habit of asking a string of questions without waiting for an answer to the first one?"

The voice seemed to emanate from a point some three feet off the floor and about five feet in front of him. Chris sleeked back a rebel strand of blond-flecked brown hair that had fallen across his forehead and cast a penetrating, hazel look at the point in question.

How come I don’t see you, whoever or whatever you are?

There you go again, came the voice, -- more questions.

"Well, what do you expect me to do? I hear a voice but I don’t see anybody or - (in an afterthought) - any……body."

There was an unmistakable chuckle. Then, the voice broke in again.

I suppose it does seem strange. I’ll explain.  I’m a leprechaun.

Huh! snorted Chris. There’s no such thing as a leper-corn!

That explains it, came the voice with a despairing tinge of sadness. "Only someone who believes in me can see me. Oh, and, by the way, the word is leprechaun, l-e-p-r-e-c-h-a-u-n, leprechaun. "

Sorry, said Chris. I’m not very good at spelling.

"Not very good at pronouncing words, either. Leper-corn, indeed! ‘What is this world coming to?’ as my grandmother often says."

You have a grandmother, too? Chris said, with interest. He hesitated a little and then went on. Is she…. is she……like you ….er….invisible?

Only to people who don’t believe in leprechauns! came the reply, a bit abruptly.

Chris was silent for a moment. Then a slight noise caused him to turn to face his night table. His eye fell on the glass of milk and some homemade oatmeal cookies that his mother was in the habit of leaving there each bedtime (‘in case you wake up in the night feeling peckish’, she would say).

To his surprise, he saw one of the cookies suddenly rise in the air. There was an unmistakable crunch and part of the cookie disappeared. There was a chomping sound and then another crunch and the cookie completely vanished.

Hey, he exclaimed, those are mine.

Mmmm! These biscuits are really good, came the voice, completely ignoring his protest. Are they home-made?

Yes, my Mum makes them, replied Chris, "but she calls them cookies, oatmeal cookies. They’re a bit bigger than ordinary biscuits."

There was no answer except a crunch followed by a chomping sound as another cookie followed the fate of the first one.  Then, another and another until there was only one cookie left. Chris grabbed it and took a large, territorial bite out of it before replacing it on the plate.

Vain effort indeed! Almost immediately, the half-moon cookie followed the fate of the others. Chris was then greeted by the sight of his glass of milk rise and tilt in midair, and disappear with a series of gurgling sounds, followed by an unmistakable burp as the empty glass was set back on the night table.

A sudden thought came to Chris.

If, as you just said, only someone who believes in leprechauns can see you, why don’t I bring young Jimmy Grimes here? He lives next door. He believes in anything, including fairies and goblins.

"And you don’t believe in fairies and goblins, either?" came the voice in a somewhat shocked tone.

Nah, replied Chris, I’m twelve and Jimmy is only nine.

So, that makes a difference?

Of course it does. I’m grown up and Jimmy is still a….a….child.

But three years doesn’t seem much of a difference.

Of course, it does. It’s three times 365 days. That is …um….that makes….um…... Anyhow, it’s a long time.

Not very good at arithmetic, eh, Chris?

Good enough, growled Chris. Hey! Wait a bit. How do you know my name?

I just took a look in your school notebook.

Oh, grunted Chris, "and what’s your name?  If you have one, that is."

"Of course, I have a name. Everyone has a name ……… (he hesitated and chuckled)…………….even fairies and goblins."

"And what is your name?"

It’s really Seamus but everyone calls me Fumblethumbs.

What ever for? Chris often heard his grandmother use that phrase and liked to use it whenever he got the chance. .

Well, let’s say I’m a bit of a butterfingers and though I try hard, I generally create a little bit of havoc, usually something quite unpredictable, replied the leprechaun. But enough of this. Just call your friend Jimmy and ask him to come over here. If he sees me, then, hopefully, you’ll start believing.

But it’s just after midnight, said Chris. He’ll be fast asleep and I don’t think he’ll be too eager to come over here at this time of night ………or rather …………morning.

All right, I’ll change the time.

You’ll do WHAT?

Change the time. Turn the clock back or forward a couple of hours.

Chris was at a loss for words. He scratched his head as he heard a string of words muttered in a language that he had never known existed.

His eye lit on his alarm clock and he was surprised to see the seconds hand suddenly stop and start moving in the reverse direction.

Wow! he exclaimed. You certainly changed time. The seconds hand is going backwards.

Ooops!  I did it again, exclaimed the leprechaun. That’s not exactly what I had in mind. Why can’t I ever get it right?

Chris heard another lengthy incantation and the clock stopped reversing and jumped forward four hours.

Golly! exclaimed Chris. It’s four o’clock in the morning. Or……(he hesitated)…….is it afternoon?

No idea, repeated Fumblethumbs. I’m hoping it’s morning. We have a long day ahead of us. Now get your friend Jimmy over here. And, by the way, tell him to get dressed. And get dressed yourself. We’re going on a journey.         

A journey? asked Chris, with widening eyes. What kind of journey?

I’ll tell you later, answered Fumblethumbs. Now, get this Jimmy fellow over here.

Chris picked up his cell phone and dialed. He let the other phone ring twice and then snapped his shut. He waited a moment and then repeated the procedure – two rings and close.

What’s that for?  came Fumblethumbs’ voice from thin air.

That’s our secret call, replied Chris. "So as he knows it’s me calling."

"But if you phoned and waited for him to answer, wouldn’t he know it was you from the sound of your voice?"

Yeah, admitted Chris, but there’s no fun in that.

Before Fumblethumbs had time to pursue the matter further, the phone rang. Chris flipped open his phone and his Hi! was greeted by a sleepy What’s up?

One thing about Jimmy was that he never complained even when wakened from a deep sleep in the middle of the night or, in this case, the early hours of the morning.

Listen, said Chris. Get dressed quickly and come to the back door. We’re going on a journey. And try not to make a noise!

Okay, came the sleepy answer.

Another thing about Jimmy was that he never questioned instructions given to him by older boys. He had no friends of his own age in the neighbourhood and was thus appreciative of older boys letting him join them.  Being subservient was part of the price he willingly paid for this.

As soon as Chris hung up the phone, Fumblethumbs spoke to him.

"Well, it‘s time you got dressed, too."

Right, said Chris, slipping off his pyjama jacket.

A sudden thought came to him.

Hey, he exclaimed, are you watching me?

No, of course not, came a voice, heavily tinged with insincerity.

Turn round! demanded Chris.

Okay, came the voice, I’ll turn my back. But since you can’t see me, how do you know if I’m peeking or not?

There was an unmistakable chuckle. Or was it a giggle? Or a snigger? That’s it - definitely, a snigger.

Chris shrugged. He slipped into his clothes and took his overcoat off the hook on the back of the door.

At that moment the door creaked open and a young girl in colourful pyjamas and bunny slippers shuffled in, half awake.  Her eyes were the same hazel colour as Chris’s and she had the same light brown hair with a blond fleck in front.

What’s going on? she said, trying hard to stifle a yawn. I heard voices. Who are you talking to?

Hi, Robin, replied Chris. I’m talking to Fumblethumbs. He’s a leprechaun.

He turned to face where he supposed Fumblethumbs was standing.

This is my sister, Robin.

Hello, Robin, came a voice from nowhere. Nice to meet you.      

But – but – but, stammered Robin, staring hard at nothing. She was wide-awake now as she turned in bewilderment to Chris.

I’ll explain later when Jimmy gets here, he said. Now, go and get dressed. We’re going on a journey. And don’t make a noise to wake Mum and Dad!

As if in a daze, Robin shuffled out of the room and reappeared a few minutes later, fully dressed. Chris motioned to her to sit on the bed and wait.

CHAPTER 2

The sound of a watery whistle drifted up from outside in the back garden. More puff than whistle but easily detectable by straining ears.

That’ll be Jimmy, explained Chris. I’ll go and let him in.

He