A Story by Peppercorn
The wind was chilly one night as the clan Redscarf hurried through the woods. The large trunks and roots blocked the road and made it difficult to travel, but they pressed on. They were careful to move quickly and quietly so not to wake the sleeping goblins of the forest. You see, these forest were where all goblins presided in those days. Back then goblins were not what we know them now. They were extremely large, larger then the trees and oh so fierce! With the flick of their finger they could snap off a man's head like a flea on a dog. Almost all of the wagons had made it out of the woods when a small child named Ramirez tripped and broke a few branches in his fall. The branches noise rang through the leaves, through the trunks, through the ground and all the way to the goblin's camp several miles away. The goblins, startled and angry at the noise, leapt up into the air and started running towards the poor gypsy clan. The goblins in their race trampled all the trees in their path and shook the ground with their giant steps. Upon reaching the clan the goblins looked down at the scared group and began to smash them one by one! They took great care to pick the poor people up and kill them one at a time. Some they would smash with their hands, the blood and bones smeared all over their palms. Some they would rip in half with massive strength. And others they would eat, chewing slowly on their bodies leg first. Oh the horrors that poor Ramirez must have witnessed! All the poor gypsies were finally dead, except for one, little Ramirez. He looked up at the goblins and cried. He sobbed and sobbed, tears rolling from his eyes like never has been seen. The sky pitied Ramirez and began to cry in remorse for him. The waters fell from the sky in droplets, lots and lots of droplets. So many and so cold that the goblin's skins began to shrink. They grew smaller and smaller till they were the size they are today. Fearful of the fate that had befallen them the goblins scattered and ran for shelter. Ramirez, drenched in the droplets, died of coldness. No, not coldness from the new rain, but coldness of the heart. His heart had been broken from watching the deaths of his family and it ultimately killed him. Even now the sky lets the droplets fall from time to time to remember poor Ramirez and his clan. And that is why we have rain.