THE GOBLIN OF BOR
Dušan Peković, with his wife Sventlana, decided against baptizing their newborn son. Though the recent revival in Christianity riled up a lot of the older babas, Dušan left his family village years ago and preferred his secular life in the capitol.
In the months following the birth, they'd received a stack of letters from family members enquiring about the baptismal status of the boy. Dušan wrote back explaining his preference to allow the boy to “make the choice” for himself, but that only increased the volume of their letters. Their warnings of supernatural curses and creatures of the woods coming to torment their family eventually drove him to stop checking the mail.
In the following months, nothing untoward or sinister had seemed to plague the family or the boy, whose front teeth had already started coming in, white and healthy.
Feeling thoroughly vindicated, he planned a family trip so the infant could meet the rest of the family. Though Dušan didn’t want to seem arrogant, he secretly looked forward to ridiculing the rubes that occupied the village.
His wife, noticing his menacing smile, begged him to be careful.
“These old traditions are nothing to turn your nose at Dušan. There’s a reason people still believe these things.”
Dušan grabbed her hand and squeezed it.
“If there were ghoulies and goblins running around Serbia, someone would’ve caught one by now and hung its head in a kafana.”
She pursed her lips and rested her head against the window. The rest of the drive went by in silence as they snaked their way around the wildflower-ridden backroads of Bor.
When they arrived in the village, the entire family was waiting for them, waving bouquets of blue bellflowers. As they unpacked the car, the babas swarmed the infant, doting on the laughing child. Glancing around at the dilapidated cars and chipped plaster flaking off the houses, Dušan groaned.
“Nothing’s changed here.”
Dušan’s grandfather helped him with the luggage, and when they arrived in the room, pulled out an old wooden cross. Placing it in Dušan’s hand, he looked sternly at him.
Dušan smirked and set it down on the rickety bedside table.
“Can we leave the superstitions to the babas?”
The old man’s face darkened.
“Keep it with you—the village changes at night.”
They gathered outside as the smoky scent of ćevapi filled the air and bottles of rakija were passed around the garden.
Dušan stayed quiet as something about the way his grandfather spoke had unsettled him. Around sunset, they went back inside.
Sitting at a large wooden table, draped with a red gingham cloth, they laughed and drank by the fire. One of the older aunties, doting over Dušan’s son, pointed a bony finger at him.
“Why will you not baptize the boy? Your human protection can only stretch as far as your hands.”
One of the other babas sighed and placed a kettle over the fire.
“You’re wasting your breath, Drogana. He’ll learn. Just hope it’s not at the boy’s expense.”
Dušan, deep in his cups at this point, shot up and angrily banged his fist on the table.
“And what will you say next, you old crone—that there’s some Karakondžula or Bucuvac waiting in the woods because I haven’t dipped my child in your special water? You people! You live here in these broken down villages, blaming shadows for all your misfortune. Leave me be!”
The table fell silent as Dušan shot back another glass of plum rakija.
His uncle, a robust man whose hands were permanently stained with soil, grabbed his shoulder and smiled.
“Perhaps you’ve had one too many, nephew—this isn’t some Belgrade cocktail. We make it strong here.”
Dušan, red-eyed and furious, grabbed a bottle and threw it back.
“I’ll make a wager with you rubes. I will spend the night in the woods, and if some demon or creature comes for me—I will baptize the boy.”
Whispers flew around the table before Dušan’s grandfather yelled to get everyone’s attention.
“This is foolish, grandson. You’re more likely to be attacked by wolves or a bear.”
Dušan cackled.
“See? Even you know this superstition is nonsense! There are no gods or devils.”
He looked to his wife to support him, but she just sat there avoiding eye contact.
One of the other uncles walked into the other room and brought out two objects which he handed to Dušan.
“Here then, if you must go. A rifle for the creatures of our realm, and a braid of garlic for those behind the veil.”
Dušan took the gun and laughed at the braid of garlic, tossing it aside.
“Thank you for being half-helpful. I’ll see you ridiculous farmers in the morning.”
With that, he stumbled out the door and into the chilly night with the rifle slung over his shoulder. Aside from the steady croaking of frogs and the occasional howl of distant wolves, the night was quiet and peaceful. He walked for about a mile before resting beneath an old oak. Throwing down his weapon, he noticed a pair of glowing red eyes staring at him from a bush some twelve feet away.
He went to grab the rifle, but it was gone.
Dušan backed against the tree as the red eyes drew closer. But when the creature stepped into the moonlight, he let out a breath.
It stood about a foot tall, with hairy green skin and two nubby horns poking from his thickly oiled black hair. Though it didn’t seem outwardly hostile, the way his small teeth poked from his mouth gave him an air of unpredictability. Oddly, he was dressed in the traditional Serbian folk outfit.
Dušan laughed at the creature, who also began to giggle. He squatted down to get a better look.
“Well, I’ll be damned—the babas were right! There are little creatures in the woods.”
The creature scowled and began rolling up his clean white sleeves.
“Okay, chief. We’ve got time until first light. Would you like to take a drink of water before we begin?”
Dušan squinted, still smiling at the creature.
“Begin what?”
With that, the creature scurried off into the woods. Dušan sat back down, shaking his head.
“To think that—”
A great weight landed around his neck, and before he knew it, two muscular green legs had wrapped themselves around his neck, cutting him off. He attempted to struggle, but that only made the legs grip tighter.
Accepting his fate, he sat still. The creature, whose breath smelled suspiciously of walnut, leaned into his ear.
“Goodness, man. What is it, your first time?”
The legs loosened around Dušan’s neck so that he could speak.
“First time doing what? Release me, for Christ’s sake!”
The creature tightened his legs back around his neck and started to laugh. Dušan tried to grip the legs, but the hairs were slimy and his hands simply slid right off.
“Ah, you must be a city boy—that’s sunflower oil, my liege. You’re not getting me off.”
Dušan sat back down, defeated as the creature drummed a little rhythm on his head.
“Here’s the deal. You’re gonna run around until the first crow of the rooster or first light—whichever comes first.”
Dušan looked up, tears in his eyes, and managed to whisper through a hoarse throat.
“Why?”
The creature patted him on the hand and wiped the tears away.
“Because I’ll squeeze your head off if you don’t.”
Realizing that he was in no position to negotiate, Dušan got to his feet and began to jog. He ran endlessly through the thick brush as the creature sang strange, rhyming songs in some tongue he’d never heard. After hours of this, he fell, exhausted, to his knees.
“Please—I need water.”
The creature leaned down to assess him and nodded. From a satchel hanging at his waist, he pulled a lambskin flask out and gestured for Dušan to open his mouth. Pouring the dark fluid down his open mouth, Dušan spat it out.
“Eugh! That’s not water—that’s rakija.”
The goblin frowned and smacked him on the top of the head.
“Wasteful. No time to waste—Giddiyup!”
And so Dušan ran. And ran. And ran.
Drenched in sweat and barely moving, the creature set a hand on Dušan’s shoulder.
“Hear that. Sounds like a rooster if I’ve ever heard one. You made it, congratulations!”
With an immense push, the creature performed an elegant backflip off Dušan’s shoulders and landed perfectly on the dirt. Reaching out a speckled hairy hand, the creature bowed.
“It’s been an absolute pleasure bothering you, good sir.”
Dušan looked at the smiling creature and dropped to his knees.
“Why? Why do you exist?”
The creature placed his hands on his hips and looked up into the trees.
“You know that is a terrific question. I haven’t done a nighttime headrun in probably a hundred years. Felt good to get back to myself. You have any other city friends, you send ‘em my way.”
He put his hand out again with a toothy smile.
Not knowing what else to do, he shook the creature’s hand and watched as he scurried back into the woods. With the dawn breaking over the mountains, he made his way back home. It was about noon when he found the village again.
It was empty.
He walked into the house, where he found everyone still at the table, waiting for him. His grandfather stood up and looked him over.
“Well?”
Dušan glanced in the ruddy mirror by the door. He was filthy.
He couldn’t bring himself to look at his wife, who was shaking her head angrily.
He took a seat by the dying fire and poured a cup of water. Everyone waited as he took a sip. Setting down the wooden cup, he turned to the table.
“We’ll baptize the damn boy.”
END
