The Doll's Eyes of Gnome

By Ashley Parker Owens

In the evil queen's shadow, a wounded son rises-

As the sheltered son of Queen Elyse, young Volney grapples with the fact he'll never take the throne as king. He lacks the royal blood to rule and has no hope of claiming power. Soon, though, he shall see how dark the world beyond wealth's walls can be-a revelation bound to quash his petty a

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ashley Parker Owens
• Release date: Feb 8, 2022
• ISBN: 9781792381447

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The Doll’s Eyes of Gnome

by Ashley Parker Owens

All rights reserved

Copyright 2021

ISBN: 978-1-7923-8144-7

PUBLISHER’S NOTE

Names, characters, places, incidents, and other details have been changed, altered, or fictionalized to protect the privacy of those involved or to ensure the author’s anonymity. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places of business, events, or locales is coincidental.

NOTICE OF RIGHTS

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author and publisher. For information permissions for reprints and excerpts, contact [e-mail].

Chapter 1—Elyse

Each year during Reverence, the royal family packed finery and fireworks and paraded down the main street of Kladenplatz, the city sitting between the royal Villa and the work fields in the valley giving speeches to honor the Sorcerer worms and feasting with the villagers. Like most royal families, they had no purpose or place in Kladenplatz other than as figureheads. The Gnome Council made the rules. The Queen, Elyse, knew her calling was to provide sparkle and dignity. Appearance was everything.

Elyse used to be famous. Not because she ruled Kladenplatz, but because she staged a worthy magical performance filled with promises and spells of prosperity. Entertaining was otherworldly in ways she couldn’t understand. The status of Queen meant nothing to her, but the thunderous applause hurt her heart sometimes, made it vibrate in a funny way.

In front of the stage were the gnomelings, some crying with red faces, others with enormous eyes and sticky mouths. Tiny female gnomelings dressed in gowns in an approximation of Elyse’s, sewn from colorful rags. The males wore shields and battled with crude swords.

After the opening prayers to the worms, Elyse sneaked in her pocket for a bundle of matches. She spun seven times while the crowd chanted, Prosperity, expansion, ambition, serenity… opportunity, security, immunity.

On the last turn, Elyse struck the matches across her midsection where sandpaper was sewn into the dress. It burst into a quick flash when her gown’s fabric ignited. The Queen saw nothing but white as she dropped below the stage into a bin of water.

Vents from under the stage spewed out pink smoke and butterflies. Sulfur mist filled the air. The monarchs fluttered for a second and then dropped. They struggled to open and close their wings. All movement in the crowd and audible gasps whispered around her stopped. Kladenplatz feared their Queen had splintered into a million butterflies and died.

Elyse waited under the stage in the dark, listening for the villagers’ cue of surprise. Above her, in a slit between two wooden beams of the stage, a wing dipped in. She stared at it. After a silence, a gnomeling sobbed. The butterflies are dead! The Queen is dead!

Elyse’s nostrils flared and her pulse raced as heavy feet stomped across the stage above her. Levenhok said, The Queen is fine and floating in the heavens. He paused, smacked a bug off his forehead, then said, Sorry about the butterflies.

Elyse glanced at Volney cowering under the far side of the stage. What did you do? Elyse hissed. She stepped out of the water and wrapped herself in a robe.

I must have got the mix wrong. I tried to make it smoky so the visuals would be better.

Volney could see his production assistant’s face pale even in the shadows under the stage. Karl trembled but wouldn’t say anything. Royals treasured Villa servants without tongues.

You nitwit. You’ve ruined the show, Elyse said with an icy voice.

Sorry. Volney wanted to sink into the earth and die.

You ruined everything!

Stop it! Levenhok said, entering the area below the stage from a side panel. He didn’t know.

The butterflies represent the promises of worms. Elyse sounded shrill.

No one believes that, Levenhok said dryly. Worms aren’t caterpillars.

"It’s a show. Elyse’s eyes were enormous now; her head pressed forward. The littles believe it, and that’s all that matters. The villagers glimpse magic through the gnomelings eyes." Elyse reached up and touched a tender wing hanging through a hole in the stage, expecting a flicker of movement. Instead, the fragile forewing disintegrated under her touch.

The Queen closed her eyes and centered herself. Sometimes you destroy what you meant to caress. Elyse’s chest turned hollow. Smoke must have snuffed any gasp of air from the insects’ spiracles. Near the stage, the crowd whispered, and mothers shushed the littles with a strain in their voice.

What a disaster!

Elyse wanted to pop out onto the stage like a jack-in-the-box. She stopped herself and breathed deeply. A magician never tells their secrets, Levenhok always said. She crab-walked under the dirty stage and peeked through a crack between two panels. Her mother, the ancient, yellow-skinned Queen, said to rule with dignity, not just pizazz. Magic tricks gone wrong were undignified.

An old female gnome had fainted by the platform. Elyse stared at the parallel lines drawn in the dust by her tiny heels as two gnomes dragged her off.

Elyse couldn’t see much from her vantage point, cowering and hiding underneath the platform. She watched a gnomeling girl right outside the stage.

The Queen is dead. Long live the day of dead butterflies, the girl said.

Elyse studied the girl’s features—her enormous black eyes, pretty, round face, and sturdy body. She promised herself she would watch that gnomeling. After the crowd moved to the hill to watch the fire wheels cascade down the mountain, Elyse crept to the caravan, where they were engaged in a lively discussion of how to prove the Queen had not perished.

Volney and Rosetta, the royal twins, were exhausted and slept through the evening arguments. Soon, the adults agreed to a plan and set to work.

∞

The shadowmen and ogres procession began as soon as the moon emerged, complete with representative puppets. The parade was illuminated with candles and flaming wicks that bloomed as they burned. Broomsticks carried the masks, giving the illusion of tall figures with long necks. The funeral procession concluded with the shadowmen rolling a cart loaded with a casket. Once they stopped, ground spinner fireworks and sparklers lit the scene. Glowworms and black snakes slithered out of the coffin, representing the Sorcerer worms’ evil side. Elyse sat up and removed the terrifying mask with a smooth sweep of her arm above her head. Elyse leaped to her feet and held up her arms in the air, forming a ‘V’ for victory.

They cheered when the villagers recognized the Queen and realized she was still alive. Elyse had done it again, raising them from a pit of despair to the pinnacle of hope and happiness.

Resurrected on Reverence Day! Elyse exclaimed. Like flower bulbs revive without effort. The Sorcerers’ cycle of death and the magic of rebirth.

During the parade, Levenhok and Gustav delivered pastries to the crowd and offered pre-rolled zuzu sticks made of kudzu. The villagers would smoke and dance through the night. Once the zuzu smoke filled their lungs and their minds wandered, the villagers reconstructed the sequence of events. Their sorrow turned to satisfaction. The epic story was told to the Sorcerer worms so that they might bless Kladenplatz with a good harvest.

∞

The following day, the royals woke before dawn and left, never to return. Elyse carefully combed through the celebration the evening before as the buggy rattled up the hill. All the poetic incantations and chemistry were to entertain and enthrall the villagers. The gnomeling tossing event was perfect, and they giggled when thrown from one mother to another. The families in the clan were forever tied because neighbors would raise their gnomelings. Not only did it bind them to their clan, but it also diversified the gene pool and allowed marriage between siblings and cousins. Enchantment meant the fieldworkers were special. The phantom ogres and shadowmen parades kept them afraid of laziness. Fireworks and fire wheels illuminated their burning spirit—and motivation and inspiration. The symbolic planting done under the moonlight was solemn and the chorus wondrous. The Gnome Council’s parade chanting around the garden’s perimeter defined the spirit of persistence and wrapped the field in a protective blanket.

Gustav woke from a long nap, interrupting Elyse’s reveries. The naughty female gnomeling’s name was Gwen. Gustav adjusted his pillow, turned his body in the other direction, and promptly fell back asleep.

Gwen might be an excellent candidate if Elyse ever needed to rally the crowd against a villain.

Chapter 2

Kladenplatz was nestled between mountains overlooking a valley that contained the gardens. The spiritual beings under the earth worked with the Gnome Council to bless all with buds and berries, vines, and branches, and the gnomes worked in tandem to deliver food. The Sorcerer worms rest in tunnels decorated with ciphers of their magical story. They send out vibrations when they hear the gnomes chant, Prosperity, expansion, ambition, serenity… opportunity, security, immunity.

On the far side of the mountain, a tortuous route led to a wild area inhabited by ogres. Only the most daring hunters and explorers ventured into this region. Obedient farmworkers stayed in defined areas to avoid violence and disease. Fresh water flowed down the backside, offering a plethora of fish. Broad swaths of grass and forest dotted the rocky mountainside, and darker hues of green peppered the landscape the farther you descended the mountain. A patchwork of personal gardens speckled the margins of the work fields. Carved ridges into the rock held sophisticated vegetable beds that ringed the valley and wound down to the steepest parts.

The villagers built squat little nests halfway down the mountainside and traveled down each day to tend gardens. The Rogues, a free-spirited gnome clan that believed in taking care of themselves, lived on a lesser hilltop to the west of the summit near another mountaintop.

Royalty lived at the top of the highest mountain in a Villa. When hawks flew over to the Villa on the mountain’s peak, they viewed a massive stone wall circling the courtyard. It looked like the iris and pupil of an eye or an archery target. Other nearby mountaintops had abandoned Villas, but no gnomes lived in them.

Lower-field workers were separated if they had even the slightest suspicion of being infected with Stone Disease. The ogres searched the countryside in search of sick gnomes to scavenge.

The Gnome Council claimed the ogres were necessary to keep order and control in the work fields. Long ago, the ogres agreed to curtail the consumption of gnomes in exchange for other food. Ogres had their uses. The villagers’ stories and songs told that ogres guaranteed safe travel from wolves and bears where the morning sun hit the mountainside. They also killed and ate rabbits, a suspected cause of Stone Disease.

Uncertainty surrounded the royals at the Villa. From atop the hill, the only path out required a trip down the mountain, walking the same ogre-infested kudzu-canopied roads as the rest of the villagers.

∞

Rosetta and Volney, the royal twins and the future of Kladenplatz, would one day rule alone or continue to work with the Gnome Council. Elyse’s sisters offered wisdom and regulations to influence morality and please the worms. Worms made up the third aspect of the triad, the loving guides of the kingdom, the mystical medical spirits that made food grow.

Even in the sweltering heat of August, the Villa’s outside stone kept the inside rooms cool. The temperature stayed consistent through the seasons, and the furnace kept them warm on rare, freezing winter nights. Multiple levels and winding cave tunnels underneath the Villa brought water and provided ample storage for tubers and fruits during the sparse winters. Spiderwebs covered the crumbling walls. They were wary of outsiders and lacked the necessary staff to keep the Villa in perfect condition.

Trees and flower beds lined the inside courtyard wall. A barn and stables sat to one side of the Villa, and the other side held Hunda’s vegetable garden.

The horseman, Gustav, lived in the barn, his bed an elevated loft. Hay and manure odors permeated the living areas of the barn. Blankets and batting around the walls kept the barn warm and homey. Gustav made hearty soups, gave some to the twins, and sometimes shared with the horses.

Like bud and bee, the twins never had a day apart—the boy, with his long gangly legs, towered over the girl. Rosetta was tiny by comparison. She was born sickly and hadn’t thrived.

The twins’ modest bedroom was secure on the second floor in the Villa.

In the hallway beyond Nanny’s room, curtains covered the window to the outside. Nanny braided a rag rug into the hallway so their feet wouldn’t get cold. The twins liked to be barefoot, and Nanny saw no point forcing them to wear shoes.

They had to go through Nanny’s room to get to their bedroom. The twins couldn’t leave their room at night without her knowing. A rug covered her bedroom floor, too, but Nanny always wore shoes. It was a bright room full of curiosities and abandoned projects, smelling of tangerines. Her reading chair resembled a throne. Gauze with meticulously glued-on sequins draped over her four-poster bed. Rosetta had given her homemade netting as a present, and together they spent a long winter week gluing on the sequins.

Chenille blankets spun from the finest yarn covered the twins’ soft beds. They pushed their two single beds together but slept alone. Rosetta slept with Dolly, and Volney slept with his pet squirrel, Sebbel. Nanny claimed bedtime stories would cause nightmares, so Rosetta hummed until Volney fell asleep.

If they couldn’t sleep at night, Volney made a spotlight. They used fingers and other objects to create epic shadow creatures floating across the ceiling by sandwiching them between flashlights and walls. It didn’t occur to Volney they were inviting shadowmen into their lives. The make-believe monsters thirsted for light and searched for victims. Volney had listened to the scary tales of the field workers, and the ogres looked upward to consider and cast judgment. Most of the information came from Nanny scaring them into behaving. Even if it wasn’t accurate, it provided a fantastic backstory for their plays. Volney would play the ogre, pursuing Rosetta until she cried. Rosetta was never stingy with tears.

They pulled out pillows and blankets on the hottest summer nights and slept outside, surrounded by Nanny, Gustav, and the servants. The courtyard opened to the entire sky, and as the earth spun, stars swept across their view. Sometimes they felt dizzy before they slept, content as could be.

Evenings like that were rare. Nanny wanted them inside at night. The twins might catch a chill, or ogres might steal them. Volney never understood what she meant and was afraid to ask Nanny for clarification. Her white face and shallow breathing punctuated her hazy explanations.

Nanny’s forefinger would be raised in front of her mouth, meaning the twins should pay attention. A terrible illness has spread over the mountain. We might catch it and die. Her glare scolded them. Never leave the courtyard. There are ogres, and shadowmen, too. Nanny rubbed her hands together as her shoulders crept toward her ears. Promise you won’t leave the courtyard.

We promise. Rosetta twirled near Nanny and then dropped a white carnation in her lap. Promise, promise, promise, she sang.

Oh, come on, Nanny. Volney sighed. Shadowmen were make-believe. We’ll be safe.

They never got to do anything fun. And Volney wasn’t even sure if ogres were real.

Were they the same spirits as shadowmen?

The ogres he’d seen at the festivals didn’t seem scary. They were a little larger, but Volney thought they were dullards. He could probably outwit one if it became necessary. Not so the shadowmen, who attacked you somehow from inside. Shadowmen were scarier because they couldn’t bleed out and die. They couldn’t be outsmarted because they lived somewhere in the deep recesses of your thoughts.

Later, Nanny continued, Slaves might be jealous and capture you. The ogres force malcontents to labor. Most are ill and non-believers in worms or the spiritual oneness of the clan.

Gustav snorted. Royalty encourages the power imbalance, and the ogres manipulate workers until they are exhausted. Villagers believe the ogres, who talk about gnome magic to keep them working.

Nanny’s face reddened. Ogres only say that because they’re jealous gnomes have the magic for growing. Anyway. They’re slaves for a reason, Nanny said, pulling the thread of a mystery haunting their nights.

Ogres outside the Villa walls keep the slaves in line, Gustav said as he taught Volney the basics of electricity one day.

Who keeps the royals in line? Volney asked, a tinge of panic gripping somewhere deep inside.

Gustav frowned. The Gnome Council.

Chapter 3

By Nanny’s orders, Volney had to stay in his bed listening to everyone breathe until dawn, crazy dreams still swimming through his mind. After Nanny woke, Volney slipped out of bed, ready for chores and whatever else the day held in wait after breakfast.

Every morning, Nanny supervised meals in a small room next to the kitchen.

The twins sat waiting for breakfast. Nanny had her back to them, and Volney reached into a pocket and let his squirrel onto the table. Rosetta stifled a giggle.

Get that rodent off the table, Nanny said, not even turning around.

Sebbel stood still, tiny arms in the sugar jar, black eyes watching Nanny while a clock ticked off seconds in the background.

Off! Nanny said as she turned toward them, sweeping the table with the edge of her scarf.

Sebbel ran across the table and jumped. He hurried from the room and ran down the hall.

That squirrel! Nanny’s cheeks flushed. You never know what sickness it carries from the valley.

The twins finished their strawberries and pancakes, suppressing smiles and sharing conspiratorial glances.

Near the end of the meal, Nanny brought the sewing basket and plopped it on the table beside Rosetta. She slumped into the chair beside her.

Dear, can you thread a needle? Nanny asked her, holding out the thread and needle. She wasn’t old; she just couldn’t see well. Nanny was the same age as Elyse, but the two were dramatically different. Nanny had dark features and a lined face that offered genuine but rare smiles. Elyse had much lighter hair, and her eyes were light auburn. Elyse stood taller, with her chin lifted high, while Nanny carried extra weight on her breasts and waist.

After Rosetta threaded the needle, Nanny handed her two fabric pieces cut into squares the length of her arm. Nanny helped her connect the fabric pieces around the edges, and then Rosetta stuffed it with cotton batting.

Looks like a pillow, Volney said.

Rosetta frowned, holding it up by two corners to examine it.

Oh, it will be fine, Nanny said. Look, Rosetta, when we tighten the thread through the middle, it’ll flatten it. Nanny pressed it down, tied off the thread, and cut it close to the knot.

One of Rosetta’s shoulders rose, and she pursed her lips. It’s a special blanket.

A blanket for my feet, maybe, Volney said. He pushed back from the table and put his bare feet on it. Nanny slapped at his feet, and he quickly removed them.

It isn’t for your stinky feet. It’s for Dolly. Nanny scowled. Leave Rosetta alone.

Humph, Volney muttered.

Rosetta looked at Nanny with gigantic eyes and smiled. Nanny, you sew better than me. You should do it.

No. You need to learn. Nanny took the blanket and placed it over Dolly with a deadpan expression.

Rosetta carried on the charade of the doll as if it were still her friend when Volney had seen her dump Dolly in the toy basket without comment. The doll’s name was Dahlia, and Rosetta wanted her clothes to be petals, but Nanny didn’t understand. It was a doll in Nanny’s mind, not some flower creature.

Can you make a cover for the squirrel, too? Volney asked with a wink. Keeping Nanny flustered kept him entertained.

Sure, Rosetta said, without even looking up.

The squirrel doesn’t need a blanket, Nanny said. It has fur. Nanny jumped up from the table and glanced down the hall. She cracked her neck and finger joints. Anyway, it better be outside. Nanny hit Volney over the head with the blanket, then returned it to Rosetta. Tomorrow, we’ll sew a gown, Nanny said.

Rosetta appeared subdued now and placed two different fabrics together on top of Dolly, lace at the hem.

I meant a dress for you. Nanny went to a side cupboard for supplies.

As Rosetta continued to sew, she peeked at Nanny at the counter with her back to them. Rosetta had a pocketful of carnation flowers and popped a flower head into her mouth.

Rosetta, Volney hissed.

What are you two up to? Nanny asked, turning toward them.

Nothing, they mumbled in unison.

Volney turned his attention back to Nanny when she poured more water.

As soon as Nanny left the room, Rosetta popped another flower into her mouth and smiled at Volney with a grin, bits of petals peeking out between her baby teeth.

Volney kicked her under the table. Rosetta squeaked out a yelp of pain and smiled. Volney shushed her. Nanny talked to Elyse in the kitchen, and he listened intently, ignoring his sister.

Bring some food up to the lab, Elyse said to Nanny. Untainted by worms and worm worship.

Hunda, the cook, punched at bread dough on the counter with a sullen frown. Whether or not the Sorcerer worms blessed the food, the flavor would be the same. Elyse shouldn’t have said that. Everyone had their role in the Villa. Elyse performed experiments in her science lab, and Hunda had a special relationship with the worms in her garden. His mother was a grump.

Nanny returned down the hallway, slippers shuffling on the wood.

Hey, Rosetta said to Volney. Quit kicking me.

Volney’s breath caught. He wasn’t touching her.

She’d pay later.

Nanny turned and delivered a stern look. Volney, leave your sister alone. Or you’ll do her chores.

It was an accident. Sorry. Volney choked down the rest of his lukewarm oatmeal and glared at Rosetta.

You’re excused, Volney, Nanny said.

Volney jumped up, stacking his dishes on his arm, and went off to the kitchen to drop them in the sink. They did not crash. A sink lining knitted from kudzu fibers was in the sink so the dishes wouldn’t break.

Nanny!

Ha! Nanny’s fist rose in the air. "I wondered when you’d notice. I meant what