Neebir motioned to me with his finger. “Come, I’ll show you the way down.”
“Into hell! I’m only joking,” Neebir laughed. “Actually, it’s over there. He walked like he had monkey butt.
“Do you have hemorrhoids?” I asked.
“Saddle-sores. I was hunting last night, with Marigold. She’s, my mare. I’ve tried to train her, but she’s still a wild ride.”
The leprechaun came to an old well. “It’s down there,” he pointed.
“I’m not going down.”
“Don’t worry, I have a rope.” He walked over to a bush and picked up a block and tackle and threw it down the well.”
“I’m still not going down. There’s no visible bottom.”
Neebir seemed to be considering what I had to say, when he pushed me down.
When I hit the bottom, I heard my back break in several places—then, Neebir laughing.
“You were supposed to grab the rope!”
He came down it, like one of those special forces guys, and landed lightly on his feet. The pain I was in, was unimaginable.
I tried to say the words, “help me”, but nothing came out.
“What was that?” Neebir asked.
“What was that?”
“I still can’t hear you.”
I tried to say something, but I couldn’t.
“Come—up on your feet.”
When his green hand touched my back, I felt an electrical impulse run down my spine.
Suddenly, I was healed, and the lights in the cavern turned on. There were no torches—the darkness became visible, as if by magic.
The stone stairway led deeper into the hill.
There were paintings of leprechauns in the nude. I noticed they must be female. They were wearing lipstick and were laying in seductive poses, on couches. I never considered that Neebir might be lonely. He escaped his isolation through a lust for art.
To be continued…