This month’s prompt:
What the Leprechaun Said

Yep, it’s March. The theme is one of general St. Patrick-ness, so we were able choose something St. Patricksy if we weren’t comfortable with writing fantasy creatures like the ‘Chauns.
I in a way wrote about one leprechaun.
My post follows the list of participants.

Participants and posts:
orion_mk3 –
robeiae –
writingismypassion –
Sudo_One –
randi.lee –
pyrosama –
katci13 –
MsLaylaCakes –
meowzbark –
dlclary –
Angyl78 – YOUR HERE!!
KitCat –
Bloo –
dolores haze –
ConnieBDowell –
Lady Cat –
Araenvo –
MichaelP –
Ralph Pines –
mdgreene50 –
scatterjoy! –
SRHowen –

What the Leprechaun said…

He sat in the far corner of the pub watching the regulars relax as they came in for their afternoon drink. It was a nice Saturday for the weather was not raining. Not raining in Ireland was nice. The sun was there just behind the clouds, but this wouldn’t last beyond the setting sun. The new barmaid brought him his cider, not the weakened stuff given to travelers but the good stuff, Bulmer’s. The strong spice of fermented apples reached his nose as he picked up his pint. The tourists should be showing soon. He wondered if this set would be like the last. Getting lost in the myths and legends that the land had to offer. The occasional scary tale of a leprechaun gone bad, carrying their mischief making a little too far. One could only hope. Jeran could smell the fun to be had. He held the empty pint up and the barman gave him a nod sending Teresa over with a fresh pint.

“There’ll be mischief today. Mark my words. Not enough sun and no rain.” Teresa put his new pint in front of him.

“Oh? No rain, I wonder if there are any puddles left?”

Just then a group of bedraggled travelers stepped in, a few covered in mud.

“I never saw it. No rain, the roads were dry and that horse just dumped me in the puddle.”

“Oh my!” Teresa gave Jeran a look, and then hustled over to help the group of men closer to the fire and to offer the poor man a towel to try and wipe off some of the mud. He really was a mess and nothing would do but to bustle the man to the back rooms. The pub kept clothes on hand for situations just as this.

“You know, it was times like this that the leprechaun said give back my gold.” The old timer’s laughed and looked at the young men.

“He wouldn’t have Irish in his background would he?”

The young man’s travel companions didn’t know. One was his brother, but the mud covered youth had been adopted and they had never looked much into his past.

As they waited for their friend, the group became enthralled with the old timers’ tales about the leprechaun said to haunt the area.

“That’s what we are looking for!” One of the young men said, laughing as he nudged his friend’s shoulder. “We want to come see if the legends are true.”

Jeran looked over at the group and smiled, “Yes the stories are true, leprechauns are real and they never forget.”

Just then the mud-covered young man came out no longer covered in mud. As he made is way over to his friends he caught a look of Jeran and froze. Then for no apparent reason other than the look of horror on his face, he bolted for the door.

Jeran looked at the old timers and politely stated “The leprechaun says: Give back my treasure. He never said it was gold.” For the Leprechaun’s treasure wasn’t gold, it was love and his heart that had been stolen. The people over centuries had misinterpreted the treasure of the leprechaun to be tangible, all leprechauns had pots of gold and magic to share it was their true loves that they guarded with conviction from the entire world. And Jeran’s had been stolen from him by the human’s family. Now 300 years later, his lover had been reincarnated and was finally back on Irish soil. The leprechaun would get back what was stolen.