The Real Treasure

This story is by Maureen Duffy and won the Grand Prize in our 2023 Fall Writing Contest. You can find all the writing contest stories here.

Maureen (T.M.) Duffy grew up in Toronto and currently lives in Waterloo, Ontario with her husband, Pat, and their two spirited felines, Simba and Smokey. In 2023, she completed her debut novel, LIES HIDDEN, and the second in the series, FRAUDULENT TERMS. Most recently, her latest novel, BURIED SECRETS, a stand-alone psychological thriller, is in the editing stage. She hopes to release it in 2024. Other short stories and links to her published stories can be found on her website: http://tmduffywriter.com

Stars sprinkled throughout the darkening skies and the moon grew in size as Mick made his way back to his colony of family and friends that lived in the hollows and caverns nestled in the mountains of the Irish countryside. Thirty-three leprechauns and their extended families had lived there for centuries and most were related to him.

He tapped his walking stick against small rocks and hummed to himself, lost in the tranquility and peace of his surroundings.

A voice cried out, “Help”, and he startled, stopped and looked around. He waited and listened, but the only sound was that of the wind as it whispered through the trees and brushed against his face. “Sure ‘twas nothing,” he muttered under his breath and continued onward.

The voice grew louder. “Please help me.”

He shivered as he buttoned his green jacket up to his neck and pulled his black bowler hat lower over his ears covering his tangled red hair. “Who’s there?” he shouted.

“Over here beside the large oak tree next to the path.”

Mick spotted the tree a hundred yards away. He cautiously moved towards it, aware of the many human enemies that sought to steal from his community. He got within ten feet of the tree and saw a large gaping hole next to it. He peered over the edge. An elderly man with a large bulbous nose and a pinched face sat crumpled at the bottom. He rubbed his eyes and looked closer. Blood oozed from a gash on the man’s forehead.

A niggling fear edged its way up his spine.

“Help,” the man said. “Someone laid a trap and I fell through the branches. I struck my head against a rock on the way down.”

Mick’s forehead furrowed. “What you doing here?”

A strained smile crept across the man’s face. “I came to have shoes made for my wife.”

Mick crouched down on his haunches and leaned his head further over the opening. “There’s no cobbler shop here,” he said. “This is fairy land.”

The man wet his lips and stared up at him. “Sure, I know,” he said, his voice raising. “But I heard that Mick McGillicuddy, the best cobbler around these parts, lives here.”

Mick’s mouth twitched. “Never heard of him. You must have him confused with some other fella,” he scoffed.

“But friends told me he’s the wealthiest cobbler around these parts.”

Alarm bells went off in Mick’s head and his voice edged. “Nah. Mick’s just a poor cobbler.”

The man’s eyebrows rose. “Aha,” he said, “so you do know of him.”

Mick clenched his left hand into a fist and tugged on his beard with his right hand. “Maybe.” His voice rose a tone. “Who’s asking?”

“Sean Flannery,” he said. “I want Mr. McGillicuddy to make my wife a pair of red silk high-heeled shoes.”

Mick’s face twisted. “Cobblers from these parts don’t make shoes for humans.”

Sadness pulled at the man’s face and his voice trembled when he spoke. “My wife is quite sick and has taken to her bed. I’m not sure how much time she has left.”

Mick’s eyes widened. “I see,” he said. “So then why does she need new shoes if she’s taken to her bed?”

Sean shook his head and struggled to get to his feet. He reached up his hand to Mick and said, “Please help me out and I’ll tell you.”

Mick hesitated, for he was aware of the legend, how deceitful men sought to capture his people and hold them for ransom until they granted their captor three wishes. So many of his family and friends had been robbed of their gold and left penniless.

“Trust me,” said Sean. “I mean you no harm.”

Trust a human? He shook his head and started to walk away. He took several steps when he heard Sean’s cries for help again.

“Please,” his voice pleaded. “My wife is home alone with no one to care for her. She needs me.”

Sean’s words troubled Mick. He had been given much in his life and was the envy of his kinfolk, for he had accumulated not one, but three pots of gold. He muttered under his breath, “probably not a good idea”, as he turned around, and stomped his way back to the hole. He stared down at Sean for several seconds before he finally spoke. “I’ll be back soon.”

Mick ran to his home, grabbed a long piece of rope and raced back to Sean. He threw it down the hole and said, “Tie the rope around your waist and I’ll pull you out.”

Sean did as he was told and shouted up to Mick. “Ready.”

Mick took the other end of the rope, tied it securely around the oak tree and went back to the opening. He dug his tiny feet firmly into the ground, grabbed a handful of rope with both hands and pulled over-and-over again until Sean’s body hoisted upwards. His bald head popped up first, then his upper torso. Sean grabbed fistfuls of grass until he shimmied his body the rest of the way up.

They both collapsed to the ground and lay there for several minutes before Sean sat up and inched closer to Mick.

When Mick opened his eyes, Sean’s face stared down at him. Fear rippled through him. A human. The legend rung in his ears as he leapt to his feet and jumped back.

Several beats passed before a smile crossed Sean’s face. He put out his hand to Mick and said, “Thank you my wee friend. I may have died without your help.”

Mick eyed the man warily and stopped short of shaking his hand. “Tis nothing,” he said, as he brushed at his green suit and pulled on his red beard.

Sean nodded and his voice lowered. “I have a confession to make,” he said. “I had come not for shoes but to capture the cobbler Mick.”

“Oh?” said Mick as he took three more steps backward.

Sean’s face reddened. “Aye,” he said. “I wanted to steal his gold.”

Mick sucked in a breath and moved even further back. Fear tugged at his heart and his eyes locked on Sean’s. “And now?”

“I convinced myself that I was worthy of another man’s treasure, that I was somehow entitled to it.” A tear rolled down his cheek. He half turned around and pointed to the hole. “But when I was trapped in there, I knew it was my greed that imprisoned me. My preoccupation with capturing the cobbler’s gold could have cost me my life and that of my wife.”

Mick was still wary. Humans often deceived people. He said nothing as he stared back at Sean.

“It was wrong of me,” he continued, as he lowered his eyes. “I see that now.”

Mick struggled to trust him. “Why should I believe you?”

Sean lowered his eyes and wiped the dirt from his pants. His voice softened when he spoke. “My wife needs me. Could you please point me in the direction of my village?”

Something about the man and his love for his wife tugged at Mick’s heart but he was still skeptical. “What about McGillicuddy and his fortune?”

Sean’s face reddened. “I have been a foolish old man,” he said. “I have been blessed with one great love which is worth more to me than Mr. McGillicuddy’s gold.”

Mick’s instincts pleaded with him to stay alert, but something shifted and warmed him inside. He moved in closer and said, “Come.”

They walked side-by-side through rich green hills towards Sean’s village. On the outskirts of the town, Sean turned to Mick and said, “Be safe my wee friend.”

Mick’s eyes twinkled and his front gold tooth sparkled when he smiled. “Tis my pleasure,” he said, “And you can call me Mick. Mick McGillicuddy.”

Sean’s mouth turned upwards into a smile. “Mick,” he said. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Mick nodded back at him.

Fairy dust rained down and a small pot of gold appeared in Mick’s right hand. His eyes danced as he dropped three gold coins into Sean’s hand. “For you,” he said.

Sean’s mouth trembled. “But I don’t understand? I came to steal from you.”

Mick took a step closer, wrapped his chubby fingers around Sean’s thumb and squeezed. “Your love for your wife showed me that indeed what you possess is far greater than what I have acquired. If these coins can bring her good heath, then so be it. For what good are riches if they are not shared with others.”

Unable to speak, Sean nodded back at him.

Mick’s face brightened and his belly shook as he let out a hearty laugh. He clicked his black buckled shoes together and tapped his cane against the rock.

There was a loud “poof” followed by a cloud of green smoke.

When it cleared, a rainbow appeared, and Mick was gone along with his pot of gold.