When I placed a cheerful little gnome on my lawn, I didn’t expect it to spark a war with Josh, my grumpy, superstition-obsessed neighbor. But one glare, one threat, and the battle lines were drawn—right between my rose bushes and his perfect hedges. The morning sun melted into the dew, painting my front lawn in pale gold.
The grass was still damp and soft under my bare feet, the earth cool from the night before. I stood there for a while, just soaking in the quiet, the kind of quiet that only shows up before the neighborhood wakes. In my hands was the most delightful little gnome I’d ever seen—rosy-cheeked, arms wide open, with a thick beard and a green hat that drooped just a little to one side.
He looked like he’d walked straight out of a bedtime story and onto my lawn. His ceramic face was painted with the gentlest smile, like he knew things I didn’t and wasn’t about to tell. “I think right here,” I whispered, crouching down beside the rose bushes.
The petals were still curled from the morning chill. I gently set the gnome in the grass, turning him just slightly so he faced the street, like a tiny guardian of my home. That’s when I heard it.
The screen door next door screeched open, loud and rusty like a warning. “Mary,” came a gravelly voice, dipped in disdain, the kind that made you feel like you’d done something wrong even when you hadn’t. “What in the blazes is that?”
I sighed before turning.
Of course it was Josh. My neighbor. Always grumpy, always watching.
He trimmed his bushes like he was preparing for a military inspection and once yelled at a squirrel for digging up his petunias. “It’s a gnome, Josh. Isn’t he cute?” I asked, smiling brightly just to see if he’d squint harder.
Josh stepped closer, his eyes narrowed. “They’re bad luck,” he snapped. “Gnomes.
Nasty little omens. I’ve read about ’em. Seen what they do.”
“You’ve read about gnomes?” I lifted an eyebrow.
“Let me guess. Internet forum for angry lawn keepers?”
He didn’t laugh. Didn’t even blink.
Just stood there, arms crossed tight across his chest. “I’m telling you. If that thing stays on the front lawn, don’t blame me when misfortune comes knocking.”
I leaned down and gave the gnome a loving pat.
“If misfortune’s knocking, tell her to bring coffee. I’m keeping him, Josh.”
He gave a slow, sinister nod. “Then I suppose you won’t mind the consequences.”
And just like that, he turned on his heel and disappeared into his house.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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