Work Text:
A Goblin Story
by We.
We grew up like many city goblins. It's not unusual to find baby goblins hiding in small, warm, dark places filled with food. Baby goblins often grow up with nothing and no one. We found our way from dumpster to dumpster to pantry to warehouse and We were one of the Lucky ones. We've seen goblin children chased out with things they'd never turn against their own young.
We were one of the lucky ones. We saw brooms and newspapers coming and ran for the door whose knobs we could rarely reach.
For years We lived like an animal: hiding, stealing, eating, moving, running, surviving. We couldn't live like that forever and We knew it whenever We sat for hours in the dark quiet of warm cupboards and closets. We needed more than this to live.
We were one of the lucky ones. We found houses with other children that would play with Us and talk to Us sometimes until their parents realized their children were playing with a baby goblin.
Once We were lucky enough to find ourself in the closet of a very sick child, one who never told when they saw Us scurry out in search of food. We heard their family pray to a goddess, one of home and hearth, to keep them alive, to at least keep them safe and warm in this hard time. We watched them care for this child, this sibling, this family in need. We never got care from people we considered family when we were young. We aren't the only one.
How many goblins are never loved? How many goblins never have home? We were one of the lucky ones. We prayed to a goddess of hearth and home who let herself love a goblin without a family.
How many goblins never think to ask for love or family? We were one of the lucky ones. We found friends who love us.
How many goblins never find this?
We've never met another lucky one.