Member-only story
Agatha of the Underhill
100 Faces in 100 Stories — No36
1 min readFeb 5, 2023
The goblin market is the only home I’ve ever known.
As Hawthorne always tells me, my mother was a wanderer who traded away her baby — me — for a few morsels of the fruit the goblins grew on enchanted vines. The juice dribbled down her cheeks, her pupils growing wide.
I was just an afterthought when she stumbled away from the market by sunrise.
I try not to hate her. I know goblin fruit is the most addicting thing to humans.
But still I wonder — what if she had not been tempted? Would I still have a mother?
Who can say?
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