but his face is not.
An unsettling, weathered look perches
itself upon his brow;
his minions are forged of stone and
ceramic – gargoyles –
as intimidating as Farmer Maggot’s
howling, hunting, hounds.
Their noses sniff the air,
their claws rest above bushes of thorn,
and their eyes peer back
at children on the other side of the
wooden fence,
who have only heard of such creatures
in fairytales and grim, moral stories
in which devils tempt naughty youngsters
and trolls lie in wait under bridges.
Blinking with a strange curiosity
that outshines a glint of fear,
the prying siblings tell each other to
quiet down,
sticking close together
and squeezing in tight.
But all it takes
is one exaggerated flail of the rolled-up
newspaper
to send them scurrying off through their
mother’s flowerbed,
a handful of little Hobbits
squealing with fright.
Growing up, we feared the man who lived next-door. He kept that newspaper like Mr. McGregor kept that rake to keep Peter Cottontail away from his vegetables. I actually considered creating an analogy with *Peter Rabbit*, since it's a childhood staple, but I stopped myself and thought, "But, I can tailor this to be particular to MY experience as a child," and from there, I decided to use the "Farmer Maggot" analogy, instead. Tolkien's works have been a staple in my life since I can remember, and it's something that all of us siblings adore. It's difficult to get through life without knowing that a "Hobbit" refers to Tolkien's work, but if you've read *The Fellowship of the Ring*, you'll know that Farmer Maggot was an older Hobbit who chased young Hobbits off of his land with his dogs after catching them in the act of trying to steal his mushrooms. Frodo, a character to whom I relate on a very personal level, was always afraid of Maggot's dogs.
ReplyDeleteThe picture comes from a page in a huge, red dictionary that was always on our bookshelf. I have a distinct, vivid memory of looking through Mr. Young's fence and seeing those gargoyles and troll statues, and I was more scared of them than of Mr. Young, whom we saw very little. When my mother told me what the statues were and how they were used, I went and looked up "gargoyle" in that dictionary. When I asked mom if it was still around so that I could take a picture, I opened to this page and remembered I had torn it all those years ago.
ReplyDeletethe gargoyles are still there! we saw them on our last family walk...
ReplyDelete