The Artist Who Didn’t Like Silhouettes (166 Words)
It was a shame, because she specialized in them. She knew how to find that symmetry, that poise, that would bring out the art in any figure. But she told me one time when I was with her in her studio, that she didn’t like them. At the time she was working on the silhouette of a bird poised on a winter branch, a jagged, India-ink blackness over gray Bristol.
“But why not?” I said. “They’re wonderful.”
“Well,” she said. “I’ve been thinking. You know what they say about looking at things in black and white.”
Once, a goblin stole whatever he could from a human village, jewels, apples, and buttons. He was lean-limbed with fierce gold eyes, but his hands, though slender, were like talons.
His one weakness was a human woman. When their love became known, the village threatened her if he did not surrender himself. He surrendered. I can’t tell you how many different ways they tried to kill him, but nothing harmed him. So they buried him alive. Some say these gnarly roots evoke the goblin’s reaching hands, clawing for escape.
Of course Captain Roberts knew about the fairies. He was proud of them. Roberts had retired from the sea when his health broke with the rough weather, and his happiness was divided between his wife, who owned the tavern, and the tribe of fairies who helped with the brewing and cooking.