Luckily…

Luckily…

by Anisa A. Claire

Photo by mariekjen

The bar door swung open, revealing a small man dressed in all green.  His hands were cupped together and he had a rather large smile smeared across his face.  He skipped over to the bar stools, humming a cheerful little tune as he went.

“What have you got there?” another man dressed in all green asked, as the first man hopped over to him and pulled himself onto the stool.

“Luck,” he replied, his red eyebrows perked and the corners of his mouth turned his smile from a happy look to a smug one.

“No, I mean what have you got there in your hands? Come on, Harold, stop playing games!”

Harold giggled and then winked at the man sitting next to him.  “Just you wait, Bailey.”

Bailey could hardly contain his excitement and blurted out to the rest of the bar patrons, “Did you hear that? Harold thinks he has something special!”  All of the men stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at Harold and Bailey.

“Well? What is it?” Another man wearing all green, and sporting a red beard, asked.

Again, Harold giggled. “Fine, fine, fine.  Here, come closer.  You won’t want to see this from afar.”

A crowd formed around Harold, and Bailey, seated to his left, leaned in really close, unconsciously twisting his red beard hair between his stumpy little fingers. He was completely intrigued with whatever it was Harold held in his hand.

“Hurry then.  Open your hands! We haven’t got all night,” another man piped in.  His beard was long and white, but he too wore all green.

In one fluid motion, Harold snapped his hands open, and inside sat what looked like a tiny little human.

The crowd gasped.  “That’s not a… a… human? Is it, Harold?”

“That’s right, boys! Our luck is about to change.  I found him wandering around the clover patch outside.  I couldn’t believe my eyes.”

The little human stood up, waving his fists at the giant leprechauns, making barely audible squeaking noises.  All of the leprechauns laughed at the tiny man and the barkeep brought Harold a container.  He poked some holes in the lid and then slid the little human into the jar, staring at him the entire time.

“What do they eat? Does anyone know what they eat? We’re going to have to figure out how to take care of him because we all know what’s worse than no luck…” Harold trailed off, biting his lower lip.

“Killing a lucky charm would bring us a lifetime of bad happenings,” Bailey continued.

After the buzz wore down, they all got to work, trying to figure out how to care for their newly adopted human.  They weren’t about to let this opportunity pass them by.


Anisa A. Claire is a Licensed Property Manager by day and an eclectic author by night. She is also the creator and co-owner of Writer’s Carnival, a successful, online community for writers. When she isn’t out ridding the world of zombies with her weapons of choice, Brussels sprouts and spatulas, she can be found surfing the net for inspiring ways to create zombie-buddies from felt and other random what-have-you’s.

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