goblingoblin in Scraps More Like This
Benjamin had never liked that stuffed animal.
It was perched on the shelf across from his bed, beady button eyes staring blankly at the opposite wall.
He didnt even know what it was, but he knew he couldnt trust it. His mother had told him once that it was a little goblin, stitched together by sparkly silver fairies who lived deep in the gloomy forest under the tangled weeping willow roots.
It was a goblin.
But not a bad goblin, of course. No, no, never a bad goblin. It was friendly.
Or so his mother claimed.
Benjamin didnt find it friendly in the least. His pale eyes would meet the darker gaze of the goblins every night, and the goblin certainly didnt look too pleased. It couldnt be trusted, surely. Especially not in the murky shadows of the night.
Anyone with stitched-on limbs and small olive ears couldnt be friendly. Thats what Benjamin decided.
Benjamin couldnt sleep when the goblin was looking. He deemed slumber impossible in t