02 August 2026
1197
R. Linda:
I was looking forward to a quiet weekend of doing pretty much nothing. We had some very heavy weather, and the ground was too wet to do anything outside, so I was going through my emails and paying bills when I got a text from Sam.
"Did you happen to notice and hear about the gnomes?"
I stared at the text, thinking Sam was losing it. Since I showed him that photo of him and what looked like Bigfoot standing behind him, he had been hot to trot out to the woods for a second go-round, but then he had thought better of it. I have successfully put him off thus far, but now gnomes? What is up with THAT?
I ignored that text for all of two minutes until my curiosity got the best of me silly self, and I texted him back with, "What about gnomes?"
Yes, I knew better but …
"Garden gnomes are disappearing around town. Not stolen, moved, Gabe. Every morning for days they are found somewhere else, set in silly scenes, as if they're alive at night!"
"No," I whispered to meself, "Gabe, doncha get pulled in."
But as usual I couldn't help meself, and I bit.
"Explain, please."
"I'll be right over, easier in person." He texted.
Oh good. A visitor. I went to put the coffee on and warn Tonya and Mam; they were about to have a Saturday morning guest.
Well, we all sat at the kitchen table, because the ladies were interested, along with me eldest, who considers himself a bit of a sleuth. O'Hare insisted the whole thing was supernatural. Tonya suggested it was neighbourhood kiddos up to no good, and Mam, well, she's got this thing about the "little people"; leprechauns were the culprits. No one was entirely right.
"The gnomes keep disappearing and reappearing, like some were set up to be fishing in the mill pond, another set was up by the community centre having tea on the front lawn, and three were set at the green corner with a sign that said "Uber" like they were waiting for their ride.
Just then Guido brought in the local paper. He slapped it on the table and pointed to the headline: GNOME THEFTS CONTINUE LOCAL GARDEN GNONES FOUND WATCHING SOFTBALL GAME - Police have declined to comment as residents are urged not to confront suspicious lawn ornaments after dark.
"WHAT?" I blurted out after Sam read the headlines out loud.
"We need to get out there," Sam said.
No, no, we didn't need to get out there. I was reluctant to buy into this village foolishness. But me three family members egged me on to go and investigate. They said Sam and I were getting quite the press and good reputations for our Bigfoot investigation; we should keep going. I was thinking if only they knew about that picture I have of a possible Bigfoot, they might be scared for our safety to go out at night in our woodsy little village. But who am I fooling? No, they'd be all about the media attention! So I kept mum; I had agreed with Sam we'd save that investigation for another time, when the two of us weren't so jittery about being in the woods at night.
Sam and I, with O'Hare, who insisted he was now part of the "team," drove around the village to check out the gnome situation.
"No kid could've moved forty-seven gnomes in one night," O'Hare said.
"No, but a determined twelve-year-old with a wagon probably could," I replied, thinking of me youngest kiddo.
"But the locals would hear that rumbling down the road." He countered.
"Not if it was on grass." Sam offered.
It was decided we'd take a stroll around 10:00 into the village and see for ourselves what would be what with the little ceramic men.
We were too late. We found forty-seven gnomes lined up on the rail trail and into the woods. Were we spooked? You can take that as an affirmative. We got into the woods a ways when we heard laughter from the head of the trail. We crouched into the woods and watched two teenagers giggling as they collected a few gnomes.
"Larry, I swear I didn't do this," the other teen said, picking up a fourth gnome.
"Well, I didn't, so who is moving these guys?" Larry asked.
"I don't know, but let's get these set up at the church. I have to be home by 10:30!"
"Well now," Sam whispered to us. "There seem to be two sets of gnome stealers. Those two and someone who did this," and he pointed to the row of gnomes leading into the woods. "Let's follow this line of gnomes and see where they take us."
As silently as we could, we walked deeper into the woods when suddenly we saw a small person setting gnomes up in a single file ahead of us. He had a wagon (so I was right about that). We watched him until he was out of sight and then carefully crept forward again. In the moonlight, we could see a young boy putting the last gnome down, being as quiet as he could. He was looking over his shoulder in the opposite direction from us. We could see smoke coming out of an abandoned cellar, and this puzzled all three of us. The young boy did not want to be caught; that was obvious, and he hurried as silently as he could back to his wagon and started up the trail towards us.
"Let's get 'em," O'Hare said.
Well, we didn't want to scare the child, so we let him pass us and get away ahead.
"O'Hare, you catch up with the kiddo and Sam, and I will investigate the smoke. Don't scare that kid, now you hear?"
"I won't."
Sam and I crept slowly forward, listening for any sound.
Meanwhile, O'Hare had caught up with the wee one, a ten-year-old, who shouldn't be out that late and was more anxious about that than his being guilty of stealing gnomes.
"What are you doing out here, Lonny?" O'Hare recognised the child.
"I've been trying to get people to notice the gnomes are leading to someone living in the woods!" Lonny defended himself. "I told my parents, and they didn't believe me or didn't care. I told a few adults in town, and they just brushed it off, but everyone notices when their garden gnome disappears, so I thought …"
"Say no more, I got it."
"But some kids started stealing the gnomes and setting them up all over town, and no one was following my trail," Lonny whined, exasperated.
Sam and I had made our way silently to the abandoned cellar. There was nothing left to it but three high walls, the fourth a tumbled-down mess of stones. We could smell and see the smoke from a small campfire. We looked down inside it. Next to the fire was an old man with one leg stretched out. He was plucking blueberries off bushes that had taken root in the cellar. Sam recognised him as Jack Mavens, a reclusive widower who hadn't been seen in days, actually, since the gnomes started disappearing from their gardens.
Sam called down to Jack, who looked up at us and gave a relieved laugh. "Finally, someone has found me." He croaked. "Broke my leg, can't move, been livin' on rainwater and berries."
Sam scrambled down to Jack while I called 911.
Jack was rescued and recuperating. Seems he fell into the cellar while gathering blueberries. Lonny became a pint-sized hero, the teens were never identified, and the next morning every gnome was back exactly where it belonged, including the six the teens had taken…that is, except one.
A single gnome was standing on me front deck, tipping its hat. No footprints, no explanation. I had opened the door to get the paper, and there it was.
"I…didn't do dat." Mam whispered. "Moost be da little men did it."
I closed the door.
Gabe
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