The clouds scudded across the moon, catching me in a well of darkness between one streetlamp and the next.  An elderly lady called from her front porch, “You there. Get home while you still can.”

“Certainly,” I yelled back, thinking it was really none of her business. The people on this small mountain were a superstitious lot, but the gold brought me here, and here I would stay until the mines ran dry. And despite her warning, I had one task before returning home.

Though the darkness pooled at the forest’s edge, I delved in and located the tree marking the site. Peering over my shoulder first, I fell to my knees and dug into the soft earth, more anxious now that I was close. Uncovering the buried safe, I fumbled with the lock and opened it just as the moon emerged. Its light glinted off the gold inside. I shoved my hands in and brought out fists full of the brilliant nuggets I had pilfered from my associates. All mine. All safe.

My mind set at ease, I could now return home as instructed.

A twig snapped and the darkness thickened under the trees. A hundred hungry eyes peered out at me. A hundred hungry mouths grinned as the golden nuggets slipped from my clenched fists, and the clouds closed over the moon.

The superstitious folk of the mountain had warned, “It is goblins’ gold.”

They were right, of course, and I had not made it home in time.

Photo by Darkmoon Art