The Gribble’s Eye: a serial 1.2

“A wish, made by a child, sends shivers into the world. Vibrations through existence. And deep within the Earth, entities exist, beings that listen to such vibrations, beings who hear the wishes of children.” Professor Brimson’s eyebrows twitched as he waited for a reply from his guest, Professor Richard Clarke.

Clarke had begun to drift off with the sumptuous dinner. “Wishes and fishes, Professor?”

“Richard, you haven’t heard a word I’ve said.”

“I’ve listened to every one.“

“Wishes, not fishes, cast by children, have power. Haven’t you felt that yourself? Or imagined it?

“Yes, a child’s dreams can influence them their whole life. But beyond that, I’m saying that a wish, made by a child, seeds the universe with a desire. A desire that, gone unfulfilled, will fester into an evil. A malfeasance that will simmer and eventually boil over into our world bringing discord and chaos with it.”

Harold of Ire, the Professor’s Irish wolfhound, heard his master’s voice, entered and insisted on cleaning their dinner plates.


Richard replied after some time. “I hear one of the larger volcanoes in Indonesia has begun to signal a pending eruption.”

The Professor shook his head. “You see. Signs of Chaos rising.”

Richard Clarke left and the house settled down to sleep.


Midnight came to the Professor’s house and Sadie was ready.

Harry’s whining ceased at her shush. He’d followed her descent to the kitchen.

“Harry, you must stay,” she whispered. She bent down and he darted out his tongue slathering her cheek. “No. You must stay here. I think our tunnel friend is afraid of you.”

Alone, Sadie left the house and made her way down the dark path to the tunnel.

“Hello? Are you there?” Sadie asked. This would be their first encounter, face to face, and her nerves gave her voice a quiver.

“Is your rabid beast locked away?” came the voice. Its accent, she decided, was reminiscent of a gypsy she’d heard at a fair; a grinding of r’s and hoarse vowels.

“He’s not rabid! But, yes, Harry’s locked in the house.”

“Do you carry the Eye?”

“How did you know I’d bring it?” Sadie pulled a small jewelry box from her pocket and rattled it as proof.

“Careful girl. That’s just the sound to draw the Gribble.”


Professor Brimson was awoken by Harry who whined, imploring his master to investigate the house. The Professor shuffled through the house and first checked in on his wife who sat on her bed next to a eerie green lamp looking at photos. She didn’t hear him knock and didn’t look up. She only had eyes for her precious albums. He shook his head in concern, closing the door carefully.

When the Professor checked in on his daughter he found her missing.

Sathena my child, where have you gone, now?”

He padded down the stairs, the dog leading the way. “Let me get my Wellies and a sweater, and we’ll be off.” Then, more to reassure himself than to quiz the dog, he asked, “Do you think you know where she’s headed?”

On the back porch the lights glared out across the vast yard. He whistled softly to his hound and asked, “North or south?” The last time he’d found her south, near the river. Much too near the river.

The large wolfhound leapt toward the north, a dashing shadow in the starkness of the floodlights. The dog’s nose lifted to set his bearing and then angled down to confirm the trail.

“Got her scent my friend? Good. She can’t have wandered far.”

The Gribble’s Eye: a serial 1.3


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