Leena leaned against her cane, peering down at the hole in her fence. Two holes, in fact, each the crisp sillohuette of a jumping gnome. "Kahan gai," she muttered under her breath. It wasn't like ceramic garden gnomes to disappear-- let alone create holes in a fence.
"Scusse me." Leena almost didn't hear it at first. Her hearing wasn't what it used to be and the voice was quiet at first. Then came the knock at her knee. "Scusse me!" Down there, leaning up against her leg, was a small blue monkey.
"Can I--" she cleared her through "Can I help you?"
"Why youss send the gnomes? Youss ah big which?"
"Which?"
"Witch! Why youssattacking us, witch?"
Leena stared down at the little creature in surprise. "I'm not a witch. I didn't send anything."
The monkey stared up at her in disbelief. "You gonna come witme to The Forest and bring then back." Leena almost laughed.
"Coming with you, huh, bandar?" She raised her cane to point back into the house: a shiny wheelchair could be seen waiting for her in the kitchen. "Think that thing will make it through the forest?"
Bandar scampered into the house, where Lena could see them examining the wheelchair closely. She began to follow them back indoors.
"Youss not a witch," Bandar agreed. "Youss huwise."
"I'm what?"
"Huwise. Many different kinds of humans. Husmall," They pantomimed rocking a baby in their furry blue arms. "Huscary," a toddler, "Hufun," a taller child, "Huscared," Bandar puffed their chest out to signify an adult. "Huwise," they smiled at her.
"I'm old," Leena corrected with a laugh. "I can still be fun or scared or scary."
Bandar nodded without listening. "So they yous gnomes. But not yous magic?"
"That's what it seems."
"Well, yousstill gon fix it. Come, ride your huwise-broom, miss notawitch."
Leena looked at Bandar, then out past the fence of her backyard. She'd lived in this house for over 50 years. She'd picnicked in the woods behind her home plenty of times. She'd hosted the city-wide "Bari Annual BBQ" right outside those very woods. Were her gnomes really inside? Wrecking havoc on the lives of little blue talking monkeys? Did she even want to get involved?
She almost laughed out loud. What a dumb question.
She sat down in her wheelchair, prayed the all-terrain wheels would hold up to their name, and began drafting a text message:
"Dear Meredith, must cancel on carrom board today, unfortunately. Out to fetch my gnomes."
