Moonsters Story

Here’s a preview of the book I’m working on! There’s probably some spelling and grammatical errors in there somewhere.

 

Chapter I

Out of the Frying Pan

  

Goblins are commonly depicted as horrific, foul, and slimy creatures with a lust for blood and ragged clothing, but that however, isn’t completely true.

Hobbs Leroy James Mcgee, this was the name of a scrawny goblin who managed to be tubby at the same time. He was humble, kind, and willing to work a job where he could work outside in a field under the raging sun, which was more of a molten moon, getting payed minimum wage. It was enough to feed himself and keep the the tele on for a few minutes.  He did this just for the satisfaction of knowing that he helped someone. Sadly, this meant Hobbs would be taken advantage of quite often, giving something like his freshly baked bread from the marketplace to a so-called orphan on the streets, who more than half of the time was just a greedy brat taking a mischievous stroll on the musty city streets just east of Hobbs’ village home.

Hobbs’ home was a small hut like structure that was surrounded by other hut like structures and squarish buildings colored various chalk colors of the rainbow. The grass there was always green, except for in the winter, where it turned a beautiful shade of light blue. The oak trees always loomed overhead and provided great shelter from the rain, and it seemed as if the trees kept their leaves all year. It was a great place to relax and enjoy yourself at the nearby beach, however, it wasn’t a popular place to vacation to, which was probably for the best because of the town’s small size.

Much like any other day, Hobbs washed up, threw on his favorite, yet filthy, blue sweater, his designer satchel, also filthy, slipped on his patched up grey trousers, filthy. Then he would toss on his unusual bright orange loafers, which would make anyone rub their eyes raw from the immense headache they would receive from glancing at them, at least, that’s what would have happened if they weren’t so filthy. He would finally comb his elegant moustache, dark as night. He loved his moustache, as it was the only sliver of hair he had on his otherwise dull upper lip.

He would exit his yellow hut like home and walk two blocks to work all the while asking everyone he passed by how their morning was, the answer was usually a “good”, “alright” or a undefined grunt. He would have arrived to work a whole hour earlier if he hadn’t stopped to chat, but instead he arrived only one hour early to work, a time which was late in his eyes. Hobbs worked at a small farm on the east side of town, he would start his work by de-weeding whatever crops where in season.  This month they were a turnip like vegetable with a name unpronounceable to humans- and goblins alike. He would then talk to his boss for further instruction. The owner of the small farm was a short older goblin named Chester, who had even less hair than Hobbs, and would lazily sit next to the animals and feed them whenever the animals would wake him from his nap, much like an automatic food dispenser.

Hobbs’ job was fairly simple and calming, but today Hobbs was surprised to see Chester rushing towards him at a speed that can only be described as sluggish, with a worried look on his wrinkled face, albeit the worried look could have just been the wrinkles. Hobbs walked towards him at a speed much faster than Chester, before asking

“What’s wrong, Chet?”

“One of th-the lyloios g-got out! It… it got out!” Chester said with a stutter.

Just to educate you all, a lyloios is similar to a modern day lynx with skin commonly compared to that of a tree’s bark, that is, if a tree’s bark was made of flesh. It is rarely eaten due to it’s strange stone like taste, and is commonly kept on farms as a source of fertilizer. This situation was indeed concerning to Hobbs. So when Chester pointed his bony finger towards the nearby forest, he darted into the forest without a second thought nor a last glance at the regretting face of Chester. as Chester had realized that he would rather have his one and only employe than one more lyloios.

The town that Hobbs lived in was located on a small island called Diarro. The town was hard to venture to, the West had a large drop off to the cold ocean water below, same goes for North and South. But to the East was a large, unkept forest which mostly consisted of old growth. It was also home to an endangered species of worm which sadly few people knew existed. A small mountain range was the only thing that rose above the huge trees like blue against orange. The only way to get into the village was either by boat, air travel, or traversing the overgrown forest. Walking through the forest wasn’t advised, especially by yourself without a light source to guide you, however, they, whoever “they” was, does advise following the path when doing the unadvised.

It had been about a week since Hobbs had traversed the forest, and when he had done that he had all the essentials that you should have, a light source, in this case, a lantern, a rugged path to follow, and an old man to keep him company. Right now he only had his eyes, which had not adjusted to the dark, dark understory of the forest, and the horn-like cry of the lyloious to guide him. Hobbs darted around trees, low hanging branches, and the occasional nut thrown at him from the angry squirrels above, all of which he could barely see.

Eventually, he ran into a small clearing that allowed for the magma moon to fiercely shine through the dense leaves. Thankfully the lyloious thought that this would be the perfect place to take a breather and get some magmamoonshine. It would have been easy for Hobbs to pick up the lyloious and retrace his steps to get back to town, that is, if the lyloious wasn’t viciously snarling at the mysterious figure behind him, which he had sadly not yet noticed.

“Oh, don’t be that way now, buddy!” Hobbs said trying to calm the lyloious down, even though lyloiouses don’t speak Goblinase. The lyloious approached the strange figure, causing Hobbs to believe it was himself that was being approached. So, just like most people would, Hobbs took three unfortunate steps backwards, bumping into the figure, but before he could comprehend that it wasn’t a tree he backed up into, he was struck over the head with a bowl-like metallic object with a strong aroma radiating off of it, possibly the smell of light fluffy cake-like pastries with a hint of butter.