Grandma always told me to never look directly at the Good Neighbours, never eat their food and most importantly never make a deal with them that you wouldn't make with a human. Now that I've broken all three of these I can say with certainty that she'd done the same.
I may not know what bargain she made but I know we dealt with the same Gentleman. The one with eyes as lumpy and misshapen as blackcurrants and a gap in his front teeth that makes his every breath a flute-like whistle that signals his approach. He remembered Grandma fondly, said she drove a hard bargain and he expected as much from me some day.
Ever since I was a child he'd pay the odd visit when nobody else was around, offering me cherries from his coat pockets which I used to refuse before I made a deal with him. The more he visited, the more I began to see other Good Neighbours, mostly lurking around the edges of the woods and occasionally gathering at certain gravestones in the church cemetery.
Old Blackcurrant Eyes casually mentioned that he remembered everyone he'd ever made a deal with, which apparently included thirty-six from my family dating back hundreds of years. He sounded so fond that I never even suspected that this was all an elaborate way for him to ensure the tradition continued.
By the time I made my bargain I'd spent over three years researching every single detail, going over and over and over it in case anything in the wording could lead to some unfortunate consequence. I barely gave half a thought as to who or what Old Blackcurrant Eyes would want in return.
I may not know what bargain she made but I know we dealt with the same Gentleman. The one with eyes as lumpy and misshapen as blackcurrants and a gap in his front teeth that makes his every breath a flute-like whistle that signals his approach. He remembered Grandma fondly, said she drove a hard bargain and he expected as much from me some day.
Ever since I was a child he'd pay the odd visit when nobody else was around, offering me cherries from his coat pockets which I used to refuse before I made a deal with him. The more he visited, the more I began to see other Good Neighbours, mostly lurking around the edges of the woods and occasionally gathering at certain gravestones in the church cemetery.
Old Blackcurrant Eyes casually mentioned that he remembered everyone he'd ever made a deal with, which apparently included thirty-six from my family dating back hundreds of years. He sounded so fond that I never even suspected that this was all an elaborate way for him to ensure the tradition continued.
By the time I made my bargain I'd spent over three years researching every single detail, going over and over and over it in case anything in the wording could lead to some unfortunate consequence. I barely gave half a thought as to who or what Old Blackcurrant Eyes would want in return.
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