Something Good to Eat (short story) by Leanne Dyck

A photo of the landscaping project

my husband and I started the summer 2013

 Something Good to Eat was published in "Icelandic Connection magazine".

Something Good to Eat

Gryla lived in a one-room thatched roof cottage on the tallest mountain peak in Iceland. She loved the isolation her home provided. She enjoyed looking down on other people. And she often did.

Gryla had a happy life. There was only one thing that created discomfort—her stomach. She had a digestive disorder due to her unusual diet. You see, Gryla loved to eat children. Correction, Gryla loved to eat bad kids.

Over the years, Gryla senses had become acute. Her ears were like radar zooming in on grumbles and insults. Her eyes scooped out disobedient behaviour.

When she did find a target her taste buds salivated and her body began to tremble. I need a fix. I need a fix. The words pounded in her skull. Motivated, she threw her burlap sack over her shoulder and climbed down the mountain to the valley below. She waited until all in the house were asleep before she snuck in and seized the child. Returning home, she’d throw the catch of the day into her large black cauldron, season to taste and eat until her hunger was satisfied. Later, she was forced to chase the meal down with three bottles of Pepto-Bismol. Unfortunately, the sticky pink liquid always failed to quiet her complaining stomach. Something has to change. Gryla realized. I can’t continue to live like this. But what can I do? I have to eat. And I crave children. Things continued unchanged for years. Her stomach problems caused Gryla to become a bitter, angry, old hag.

“I want it. I want it.”

Gryla heard screams of protest coming from a white house with a red door.

“Well, then I hate you!”

Gryla saw a girl with strawberry blonde hair throw a hairbrush at her mom, storm into her bedroom, and slam the door shut.

        That night, Gryla found the house with the red door and, looking through a window, she spied the girl with the strawberry blonde hair asleep on her bed. Gryla’s stomach rumbled with hunger. She slid the window open and crawled inside. Gryla crept over to the girl and shook her awake. “Rosa Olafdottir, you are accused of insolence. How do you plead?”

“What do you want, you old hag?”

“Yup, you’re my gal.” Gryla opened her sack and grabbed the girl’s arm. But the girl wiggled free.

“Hold on. Wait a second. What are you planning to do?” Rosa asked from the other side of the room.

“What do you mean? What am I planning to do? Surely your parents have told you about me.” Gryla stood proud with the sack held out—hopeful that the child would leap inside.

        Rosa struck her forehead with the palm of her hand. “Oh, you’re the old woman who sneaks into kid’s bedrooms, takes them up to your mountain home…and…and.” She gulped. “And eats them?”

“Bingo. Yup, that’s me.” Gryla said.

“Yes, I’ve heard of you. But…but…I thought you were just a silly myth my parents told to try and keep me in line.”

Silly? Silly! Oh, yeah, this one has to come with me. Gryla thought. “Oh, I assure you I’m very much alive—as you can see.” Gryla smiled. “Now are you ready to go?” She swung her hand out trying to catch the child.

Just in time, Rosa jumped away. “Hmmm, let me think. No!” Rosa waved her hands. “You don’t really want me. I’m not bad just sometimes my behaviour is. And besides who are you to jud—“ Her nostrils flared. “What stinks? Did you fart?”

“Sorry.” Gryla blushed.

“You came into my bedroom, uninvited, and farted.” Rosa coiled her fingers into fists and placed them on her hips.

“It’s not my fault. I can’t help it. I have a digestive disorder.”

“A digestive disorder?” A faint grin formed the corners of Rosa’s lips. “Isn’t that caused by eating the wrong kinds of food?”

Gryla nodded. “Oh, probably but what’s a person to do. The stomach craves what it craves. Now, will you please make this easier for both of us and crawl into my sack.”

“Are you deaf? I said no.” Rosa took a breath and shaved the sharp tone from her voice. “I have a better idea.” She shoved her feet into her fuzzy pink slippers and opened her bedroom door.

“Something better?” Gryla asked. “What could be better than—”

“Has anyone ever made you a toasted peanut butter and jelly sandwich?”

“A what?” Gryla looked puzzled.

“A toasted peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”

“No, I’ve never—”

“Well, then, please allow me to be the first.” Rosa led Gryla into the kitchen.

Dubiously, Gryla took a seat at the kitchen table while Rosa toasted the bread and found the peanut butter.

“I don’t know about this.” Gryla eyed the sandwich.

“Just try a little. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to eat it. And then I’ll…”

“You’ll come with me.” Gryla grinned.

“And then I’ll make you something else,” Rosa corrected.

Gryla took a bite, licked her lips, and ate every crumb. “Th— Th—” The peanut butter had cemented her tongue to the roof of her mouth.

“Milk, that’s what you need.” Rosa soon returned with a glass. “Here.”

Gryla took a sip. The milk broke the seal and her tongue swam free. “That was delicious. Please, girl, can I have another one.”

Rosa made three more sandwiches, wrapped them in foil, and handed them to Gryla. “For the walk home.”

        “Well, thank you so much. That’s very kind of you.” Gryla put the sandwich in her sack. That following night, for the first time in her life, Gryla slept like a baby.

        Word soon spread throughout the village from one naughty kid to another, “If you’re bad, don’t worry—just fed her something good.” 

        So when Gryla crawled through Erik’s window, he served her macaroni and cheese. Gryla didn’t think she’d like it, wondered why he didn’t make her a sandwich, ate it anyway, and declared it delicious. 

        Rosa and Erik were the first of many. All the children in the village took turns serving Gryla their favourite meal. These kindnesses transformed Gryla from a bitter, old hag to a gentle, elderly woman. And she never again ate any children.



For more information regarding Gryla, read this article.

(back yard)

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Eve's Other Children (short story) by Leanne Dyck

The origin legend is about a group of invisible people. This short story was inspired by Icelandic folklore.

photo by bdyck

Eve's Other Children

God told Adam and Eve, “Cats have kittens, sheep have lambs, cows have calves, dogs have puppies, and you shall have children—lots and lots of children. Go forth and multiply.”

Eve dug her big toe into the soft, black soil. This is a very weird first date. I mean, I’ve just met the guy, and God’s already talking about having babies with him. It’s not like he’s the only guy in the whole-- Well, I guess he is. It’s him or nothing. And besides, he is kind of cute. The least I can do is get to know him.

So Eve started dating Adam, and they got along. They got along so well, in fact, that they fell in love.

“Ten—ten’s a good number,” Eve told Adam. “Let’s have ten children.”

“I’m a good provider,” Adam said. “Let’s have twelve.”

Eve giggled. “Or twenty.”

First came Cain, then Abel, but they didn’t stop there. The family grew and grew. Looking down from heaven, God smiled at all of them. One Monday, He phoned Eve. “I’ll be there tomorrow. We’ll have lunch. I’m looking forward to meeting everyone.”

“Oh, so am I.” HE’S COMING TO VISIT US. TOMORROW!  Books, toys, dust—clutter of every kind surrounded her. “The whole place is a total mess.” Freaking out, she raced around mindlessly. “I have to dust, vacuum, clean the bathroom, and…”

“I’ll help you, Mom,” Helga said.

“Oh, dear girl, I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Mere hours before His arrival, Eve surveyed her progress. Homemade vegetable soup simmered on the stove. Hand-polished hardwood floors glimmered in the sunlight. “Everything looks— The kids!” There was hair to wash and bodies to dress.

Most of the children understood the importance of the visit. They stood obediently in line as she fussed over them. 

However, there were others. These children joked, laughed.

“Hush, children. You must quiet down and cooperate. God will be arriving at noon. We must be ready.”

“Sure, whatever, Ma.” 

“Don’t you see?" Thorlak said, "It doesn’t matter to Him what we wear. He doesn’t care if we brush our hair. He sees us; He knows what we look like.”

“It matters." Eve glared at him. "It’s important to look our best—out of respect.”

“Blah, blah, blah. Who’s that?”

        

Eve followed Thorlak's line of sight and saw God cresting the hill. She looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. He’s early!

Half of her children wore pretty dresses and carefully ironed pants. They made her feel so proud. But her other children... Wind tousled hair. Mud-caked clothes. What do I do? He can't... “Quick, children, run out into the woods and play.”

One of the boys stopped pulling his sister's hair just long enough to ask, “But I thought you said we had to meet this God guy?” 

“I won’t let anyone see you—not when you look like that.”

As they scampered off into the woods, they stuck their tongues out—taunting their prim and proper siblings. “We get to play. We get to play. We get to play.”

“Why do we have to…? How come they get to…?” 

Eve glared at the ones left behind, and they fell silent.

Knock, knock, knock. Eve swung open the door and, sure enough, found God standing there. She threw her arms around Him in greeting. As coached, her children bowed and curtseyed. 

“If you please, Mr. God, sir, we would like to entertain you with a song,” Cain said.

God took a seat, and the humble cottage filled with music. The song ended, and God clapped his hands enthusiastically. “Your voices are so sweet. It’s like listening to the angels. Gather around, children; I’d like to tell you a story.” He cradled the youngest on his lap; the rest sat in a circle around Him. “In the beginning was nothing. So, I thought, hey, why not shine some light on things? I did—and thought, Not bad.”

As He spoke, Eve ladled soup into her finest dinnerware. She waited patiently until storytime was finished and then called them for lunch.

God sat at the head of the table, slurping his soup until the bowl was empty. “That was delicious, Eve.”

She ran to the stove, retrieved the pot, and brought it to the table. “Would you like more?”

“Yes, please.” God held his bowl up for Eve to fill.

“Me too, Mommie,” the youngest said, and God chuckled.

After lunch, the children bowed and curtseyed, excusing themselves. 

God and Eve were alone in the kitchen. "Eve, you’re doing a fine job. Your children are delightful.”

Eve glowed with pride.

“But, I’m not sure… Did I meet all of your children?”

Eve froze—recalling tousled hair, muddy clothes, and irreverent attitudes.

“Eve?” God drummed his fingers on the table. “I asked you a question. Did I meet all of your children?”

Oh, no, he’s onto me. What do I do now? Play dumb. Yeah, that always works. She slowly nodded her head.

“Real-ly?”

Eve spoke to her coffee mug. “Yes, of course, you did."

“Oh, Eve. You’re forgetting whom you’re talking to. I’m God. There’s nothing I don’t see. Nothing. I see the birds in the sky, the ants on the ground, and I see some of your children playing in the woods.”

“Oh, them. Well…um…well.”

“Why did you lie to me?” 

“I didn’t… I didn’t mean to… I tried. I tried so hard. Adam’s never home. From the minute I got off the phone with you, I worked. I got down on my hands and knees to scrub every inch of this floor. I picked, washed, and chopped every vegetable in that soup you enjoyed. When you were cresting the hill, I was still working. Those bratty kids—they just won’t cooperate. I tried to explain how important You are. They laughed at me. Thorlak even argued with me. You won’t believe what I have to contend with. I just couldn’t deal with them any longer—not today, not with you coming. You can come back. You’ll meet them then. No harm was done.”

“Yes, Eve. Harm was done. You hid your children from me. You lied to me. I can’t abide dishonesty. You know that. You’ll never learn unless I take a firm hand. And so, the sins of the mother are visited upon the children.”

“No. What are you saying? What are you going to do? You can’t …"

"Eve, you banished your children to the woods, and that is where they will remain. You didn’t want me to see them, and so no one will—not you or Adam or your other children. They shall become Huldufolk.”

Eve's Other Children was published in the Icelandic Connection magazine. 
'Icelandic Connection is a quarterly magazine celebrating the cultural heritage of people of Icelandic decent in North America.' -from the Icelandic Connection website