Here on one of the last nights of Wysolice, with a dizzy head and a fiercely raging cold, I must stop and take a moment to share with you what has just passed, a silly but wondrous sight, one that has pulled me from bed and left me with two strange items in my care. For a little time now, I have noticed odd things about the cottage, tasks done, chores finished, and not by me, dear reader. It was a pleasant surprise, but my curiosity was beginning to grow, especially when I found tiny boot prints in the soot by the fire. It made me suspect that my dreams might be more than I had first believed.
So I was sleeping soundly this evening, with Flame by my side, when I was roused by the sound of bells. I thought it must be part of another dream, until I heard a loud bah outside the window and voices from within my cottage shushing and grumbling. Voices? Perhaps ones that belonged to tiny boots? Slowly I opened one eye just enough to see two little men busying themselves by the fireplace. They must have been no taller than my knee, and each had a long white beard, a tall red cap, and yes indeed, shiny black boots. They grunted and pushed each other about, all the while shushing each other to be quiet. It was hard not to laugh at such a silly sight, but I tried to lay still. Flame was still snoozing beneath my arm.
One grabbed the poker while one took up the dust pan and brush. The fire, I admit, was badly in need of a cleaning with the ashes piling up ever since I fell ill. I watched them begin the task in amazement. They both were surprisingly strong and quick too. Within minutes they had moved the dying embers back, cleared the ashes, and thrown new logs onto the fresh hearth. But just then, another loud bah came from outside the window. They both turned to shush the creature, and as they did, the poker was knocked over and fell to the floor with a clatter. Flame was instantly awake. He spied the two little old men, and jumped up to chase and play with them. Shouts of alarm; then I was up and after Flame. He pounced towards one, but the nimble being jumped high onto the shelf and vanished. I tried to grab my naughty fox’s tail, but he impishly dashed after the other, who threw the dust pan into the air and vanished too. With the sudden sound of bells at the window, I rushed to look outside and saw the little men riding the golden goat swiftly towards the forest, jingling all the way. But they were missing something.
I turned back to view the cottage, a complete mess with ash and soot flung all about the floor. But there they were: two red caps lying on the floor. I grabbed them and rushed to the door, but the golden goat and its riders were now long gone. So, goodness, even though my head was spinning I swept up the soot, and now I am recounting this silly adventure, all while Flame rests his fuzzy head on my knee, content to have had such a fun time.
Now, dear reader, I know who has been helping around the cottage, though I wonder if they will return after this. I hope they at least come back for their little hats, which, oh dear, are quite filthy. The two little men have done so much to help me. Perhaps I can make them new hats? Oh, but goodness, my head… I hope I feel better soon. I want to show how grateful I am to these little men, as well as to my friends in the village who have been all kindness. Oh, but not now... for now, sleep… and maybe I will begin to feel better in the new year.