Chapter 5:

Chapter 05 What's Behind The Door?

Hermit's Diary

We were caught up in our antics and conversations as we turned our attention to where Klutzfingers was pointing. The sight that greeted us was chilling and grotesque. The wall, illuminated by the eerie glow of the mushrooms seemed to be a canvas of horror.

Spindlytoe gasped, his toes curling involuntarily in disgust, "What that?" he clicked in alarm.

Gruk's eyes widened, and he chirped nervously, "Gruk never see... thing like this. Scary!"

Gunk curled up in a tiny ball and huddled himself in his meaty ears while muttering, "Gunk scared, scary wall bad! Gunk not like a bad wall!"

The wall was adorned with what could only be described as a ghoulish mural. It depicted scenes of violence and gore, a nightmarish tableau of smushed, mangled creatures. Old, dried bloodstains formed grotesque patterns as if the very wall had absorbed the suffering and agony of countless beings.

Our goblin hatchling group fell silent as we gazed upon the grotesque wall, illuminated by the eerie glow of the shiny mushrooms. It was a massive canvas of horror, a tapestry of gruesome splatters that left us all in shock.

Spindlytoe clicked nervously, "What... what is that, Klutzfingers? Why wall so... so scary?"

Klutzfingers hesitated before responding, "Not now, Spindlytoe. The wall is not pretty like the fingers. Wall... bad."

Bumblebelly, who had been giggling moments ago, seemed to have lost his laughter, "Me no like wallz. Wall makie tummy hurt."

Dizzyhead stared wide-eyed at the wall, "Dizzyhead dizzy more. Wall... wall not nice."

Slippinfeet couldn't help but shiver, "Wall cold. Cold like slide, but not fun."

Gruk, who had so far been fearless, took a cautious step back, "Wall not good. We go away from the wall. Wall is a danger! Scary! We no go!"

We collectively agreed that the gruesome wall was best avoided, and we retreated to the other side of the cavern.

As we scuttled through the filth and muck of our cavern, moving away from the eerie, gore-covered wall, our attention was drawn to the far end of the cave, where an ominous sight awaited us: a massive wooden wall loomed in the dim light of the shiny mushrooms. At the center of this wall stood a colossal door, its wood rotten, covered in filth and moss, and its planks crooked and uneven, all blackened from decay. To us, who were no larger than an apple, these doors appeared as immense as a towering mountain.

In a huddle, we tiny goblins quivered in fear, embracing one another with our limbs and cocooning ourselves with our meaty ears. Our nude, diminutive forms pressed against each other for both comfort and warmth in the face of this foreboding and mysterious obstacle.

The sight of the colossal wooden door sent shivers down our spines, and our tiny goblin hearts raced with fear and curiosity. None of us had ever seen anything like it, and its foreboding appearance filled us with unease.

Klutzfingers curiously looked at the massive door. He extended a trembling finger and pointed at the rotting wood, his goblin curiosity overcoming his fear.

 "Door... door big. Big like a cave. What behind the door?"

Gruk, who was typically fearless, was at a loss for words.

 "Big door... no know. We are tiny, the door big. Leave door alone."

Dizzyhead's head whirled faster than usual, his confusion mirrored in his jittery movements. 

"Dizzyhead not like a big door. No like at all."

Spindlytoe tried to sound brave, though his voice quivered with anxiety.

 "Maybe... maybe something good behind doors? Maybe food? Feeling hungry."

Slippinfeet stumbled over his own words, "No, no food behind doors. The doors are too big. Maybe... maybe danger. B-big door s-scary! S-Slippinfeet s-s-scared!"

Bumblebelly, who usually laughed the most, remained uncharacteristically quiet. He clung to Dizzyhead, his round belly quivering with unease.

Dizzyhead chirped in his high-pitched goblin language, "What's behind the big doors, Gruk? Big doors scare Dizzyhead."

Gruk clicked and chirped as he always did when contemplating something important, "Gruk not know, Dizzyhead. Big doors... not know... never seen before. We careful."

Our minds were as fresh and inexperienced as our newly formed goblin bodies. We had yet to grasp the complexities of the world around us, and everything seemed both fascinating and bewildering.

As our fellow hatchlings scuttled about the cavern, their tiny naked forms tumbling and tripping in all directions, our little group couldn't help but chuckle and chirp with amusement. Each goblin displayed their own peculiar quirks and antics, and it was hard not to find them endearing. We broke our cacoon of comfort and spread out to have goblin fun with other fellow hatchlings. 

Our group of goblin hatchlings, filled with newfound curiosity and a desire for exploration, slowly began to spread out from our cocoon of comfort. It wasn't long before we joined the other hatchlings in their exploration of the filthy cave, our tiny forms tumbling and tripping in all directions as we engaged in our silly and adorable activities.

 We named one of the goblin hatchlings Farty, his favorite pastime was his rather unconventional way of greeting his fellow goblin hatchlings. Every time he spotted one of us, he would dash up with a joyful chirp, his little legs a blur of motion. And then, with impeccable timing, he would unleash a smelly fart right in our faces, resulting in a chorus of surprised squeaks and giggles.

This routine never failed to amuse both Farty and the goblins he targeted. They would retaliate by chasing him around in a clumsy frenzy, their tiny limbs flailing as they attempted to catch the trickster.

Another goblin, whom we fondly named Munchkinsnout, was particularly curious about the shiny mushrooms that illuminated our cave. With his scrawny limbs, he attempted to reach a shiny mushroom growing on the cavern wall. He stretched his slender arm as far as it could go, his bony fingers barely grazing the mushroom's cap. 

After several comical attempts, he finally managed to pluck the mushroom. But instead of nibbling it cautiously, he stuffed the entire thing into his mouth. His eyes widened as the unusual taste overwhelmed his senses, and he promptly tumbled backward, limbs flailing in spasms from poison shock.

Gruk often puffed up his chest and tried to look as fierce as a tiny goblin could, though he resembled a cute, puffed-up marshmallow.

Spindlytoe used his long, slender fingers to create ugly figures out of the soft, damp moss that grew in clumps nearby. His creations were abstract and made no sense to us, but we cheered him on regardless.

Bumblebelly found endless amusement in wobbling around, his round belly jiggling with every step. He often tumbled over, only to bounce back up with a giggle.

In one corner, Dizzyhead, inspired by our surroundings, tried his best to impersonate the mushrooms. He wobbled and swayed, his tiny green body imitating the luminescent fungi as he chirped gleefully, "Dizzyhead is a mushroom, see? Chirp-chirp!"

Gunk was resting on a crusty dung, sleeping soundly. He was tired from his crisis with the egg.

As we reveled in our peculiar playtime amidst the feces and muck, an unexpected interruption shook our tiny goblin world. It started with a subtle shift in the pile of eggs, and then, to our collective astonishment, one of the eggs broke free from its perch.

With a sickening thud, the egg tumbled down the mountain of filth and crashed onto the ground, sinking partially into the slimy wet manure. But what truly caught our attention were the muffled cries for help that followed, accompanied by frantic clawing and scraping sounds from within the egg.

With hesitation, we tiny goblins sheepishly took action. As fast as our tiny legs could carry us, we wobbled through the sticky, feces-soaked ground, slipping and sliding along the way. 

We surrounded the egg and with all our might, we began to nibble, gnaw, and peck at the eggshell. Our meaty ears twitched as we emitted a chorus of chirps and clicks, our primitive language of cooperation.

Minutes passed like hours as we toiled to create an opening for the trapped hatchling. Our persistence paid off when we finally managed to create a small hole, just enough for the hatchling to wiggle free.

The goblin that emerged was a sight of pity, even by our peculiar standards. He was scrawny to the point of boniness, his limbs like fragile twigs, his belly barely distinct from his spine. Despite the warmth of our cave, he trembled uncontrollably within his skeletal frame. He hatched prematurely, his goblin body didn't mature fully.

As his eyes fluttered open, he extended his stick-thin arms toward us and chirped and clicked desperately, "Muma! Muma! Dada! Dada!" We exchanged glances and shared a collective decision. We named him Daddy and we decided to be his family.

The addition of Daddy to our goblin hatchling group brought a new dimension of affection and care to our lives in the filthy cavern. Despite the unusual circumstances and the overwhelming environment of decay and muck, our hearts swelled with warmth as we collectively took on the roles of parents for the fragile, scrawny little goblin.

Daddy was tiny, even by goblin standards, and his frail frame often prompted our concern. But we were determined to protect and nurture him. We took turns cuddling him in our meaty ears to provide warmth, creating a rotating goblin cradle of sorts that kept him cozy and safe. 

To satisfy his insatiable hunger, we resorted to the most repugnant of deeds. We chewed on wriggling maggots, their putrid juices bursting in our mouths, and then, with a grimace, we vomited them into his eager, gaping mouth. The tiny goblin gulped and chomped on our vomit with delight in his glossy goblin eyes, his hunger temporarily satisfied.

When thirst clawed at his tiny throat, we dipped our ears into the noxious urine lakes that formed in the cave, using them as makeshift buckets to scoop up the putrid liquid. With a grotesque sense of duty, we offered the urine-filled ear to Daddy, allowing him to drink from it, the noxious fluids dribbling down his chin as he greedily lapped and slurped the putrid quencher.

And when his frail legs could no longer support his tiny body, we took his bony hands in our own grotesque appendages. Gently, we guided him, step by stumbling step, through the treacherous cavern until he gained the strength to sustain himself. 

We did our best to include Daddy in our games, despite his feeble limbs. He would watch us with wide, curious eyes, chirping and clicking in delight as he observed our peculiar and often clumsy activities. We adapted our games to accommodate his limitations, ensuring that he was an integral part of our close-knit group.

Mealtime came and we started to get hungry. We looked around the cave and started to taste various things; from feces to mushrooms on the walls. We took special care of Daddy. Our diet primarily consisted of nibbling on bits of slimy mushrooms, but for Daddy's sake, we would search for the smallest, softest pieces to ensure he could eat without trouble on his own. We even let him have the first bite of any fresh mushroom we discovered, savoring the delighted chirps that followed. Maggots were still too much trouble for him to eat.

Daddy's transformation from a scrawny, shivering hatchling to a cherished member of our goblin family warmed our tiny, goblin hearts. In our bizarre existence, we had found a sense of purpose and connection that transcended the strangeness of our surroundings. Our cave filled with rotten eggs and decaying feces had become a place of bonding, laughter, and love.

Our laughter filled the cave as we indulged in our delightful and charming antics. But amidst the merriment, a sudden hush fell over us as our tiny, goblin senses picked up on an eerie presence.