The Rise of the Gnomes, Part Three: The Plan
Mother sat at her sewing machine, long hours at a time, frantically trying to complete her project. One of the gnomes peered around the corner. It took a step, then another, quietly trotting up to her. She pretended not to see it as it jumped up on her desk and yanked her thread, undoing her work.
It was close enough that she could’ve touched it, if it wasn’t so fast. By the time she got her hand near, it disappeared. No, she couldn’t rely on speed. She had to rely on cunning. The Gnomes were tricky, but she was trickier.
Something crashed in the other room. Mother jumped, but didn’t get up. She patiently re-sewed the stitches that the gnome pulled out.
They were getting bolder. No more hiding behind furniture and coming out at night, the gnomes were blatantly pulling things out of drawers and dropping them from shelves, leaving shattered dishes and dirty fingerprints in their wake.
Mother sewed a little tuck here, a little pocket there, until she was finished. By the time Father returned, she was ready to implement her plan.
Late in the evening, the gnomes lay about, dozing from the exhaustion of putting in a hard day of destruction. Quietly, so as not to disturb them, Mother set her creations about the house, in places where the gnomes liked to play, and put her most expensive, most delicate treasures inside.
By morning, she’d have them trapped.