The Myth of a Sock

“Professor…”

Professor Geyser carefully put down the 15th century roman vase before looking at his pupil across the room. He noticed the young man staring at a specific museum piece.

“What is it, Michael?” he asked as he walked over, seeing that his pupil was looking at a display of an old wool pair of socks.

The young man had a confused expression as he looked towards his teacher.

“This museum is about mythology…” he began.

The Professor waited for the last half of the sentence, “and…”

The young man smiled, “This is a sock” he began, “Don’t you think that’s rather silly- a sock is not a myth”.

Professor Geyser looked started at the young man’s ignorance, “Don’t tell me you don’t know why socks were created in the first place?” he asked, surprised.

The young man looked stupefied, “For warmth- it’s the basis of animal instinct”.

The professor shook his head as he walked away.

Michael didn’t know where his teacher was going, but after a few minutes he returned with a book in his hand.

“A sock was created for one purpose, Michael” said Professor Geyser.

“What’s that purpose, sir?” the young man replied.

The professor dragged a chair closer to the young man and plopped the book on the counter next to them.

“Do what we people of research do best- read” was all he said before walking away, going deeper into the museum of mythology.

Michael looked at the old book in front of him for a while, until curiosity caved in. He sat down and opened its heavy bind and began reading… then stopped, looking up at his professor, “You can’t be serious!” he yelled.

“Read!” shouted the professor from afar.

Michael began the story again…

Below are the collections of statements and entries that have been recorded. Scribes in later years conducted this collection of facts into one full entry of the recollected events spoken as a narrative. Hundreds of years later it became only a story, and more so- a myth. This is the myth of Socks:

Along the woods of Tibek, A poor Shepard boy sat against a tree stump. He looked at the wind that rose high and low in the distance- dancing its spirit amongst the tree tops and through the grass beneath. The sun was now setting, and he knew his parents would scold him for staying out too late. After, a goblin had been on the loose.

Nothing could hurt him with Toby, his protector, around.

He had been so mesmerized by the sunset he didn’t realize his dog, Toby, was nowhere near him.

“Toby?” he called out, whistling for the sheep dog.

A crackle of branches broke behind him.

“Toby, is that you?” he called out, a slight nervousness sprang from his voice.

A shadow moved around the forest, and suddenly a wagging tail broke from the heavy brush running towards the boy.

A wave of relief hit the boy as he gripped Toby.

“Time to head home, boy” he said to the wining dog as they both began walking back home.

The dog continued to whine as they both walked back to the village. The boy smiled and patted the dog’s head in comfort, not knowing two eyes glared at them both from afar.

The two eyes walked into the valley the boy was at. It looked down and found something on the ground which made its mouth drool and wettened: its favorite food.

It looked up and watched the distant head bopping and knew the boy was carrying its favorite meal…

Jackson Carpenter woke up to an even louder banging on the door.

A discomforted grunt came out of him as he stumbled up. His left hand kept him stable on the table, while the right hand finished off the beer from last night.

“Carpenter! Wake up, man! We have another murder!” a voice from outside called out.

A soberness came over him immediately as he reached for the door.

A skinny, twig-like, man with a heavy black mustache stood on the other side with a frightful expression.

Jackson wasn’t sure if he was frightened because of the murder, or to see the famous detective – Jackson Carpenter- on the brink of throwing up in front of him.

A short pause caused Jackson to be dumfounded, “Lead the way you buffoon!” he yelled at him before the younger man finally turned and quickly led Jackson down the street.

What he thought was a couple blocks turned out to be 4 miles towards the end of town at a Shepard’s home.

Several men were walking around the yard and sheep’s pin, looking for any strange tracks on the ground but found nothing. Each of them occasionally looked up knowing the heavy rain would come in a couple days washing any signs that could lead them.

Jackson stepped inside the home, offering condolences to the husband and wife. He had been briefed by the younger man with the mustache on the way over. He headed into the room to observe the body of the boy.

The husband who had led him to the room turned away, repulsed at the sight of his son.

Jackson looked to see the similar cases he had seen in other villages he visited- a nightmare that made him move from one village to the next.

The creature was following him, he thought. Ever since his wife, Tina, had been murdered.

The boy was covered in a wool skin…at least his face was. A covered stump lay in dark red stains just little below the knees. The boy’s feet were gone…eaten.

Michael looked up from the book and realized the museum was getting dark. He noticed the professor was gone.

“Professor?” he called out, but nothing.

Suddenly the room’s light flicked on above him which startled him. He looked to the door to see his professor looking back at him smiling.

“You’ve forgotten its dark, Michael” he said.

It took Michael a second to calm himself down, “just reading about the myth of socks, not sure where this is going…” he said, wondering if this was a joke.

“Where are you at in the story?” the older man asked.

“The Shepard boy’s feet had been eaten…by the goblin, I assume,” he replied.

The professor nodded as if he had read the story enough to know every detail by heart, “You’re coming up to the reason we wear socks” he said.

“But why do goblins eat feet in the first place?”

“Read the side-notes!” he yelled to the boy as he began to turn around, but stopped before leaving, “And Michael…” he began, smiling, “finish reading with your socks OFF”.

Michael smiled at his professor until he realized the man was being serious, “oh, ok…” he said as he took off his shoes and socks as he watched the professor geyser leave the building. He set his socks aside as his toes touched the cold tile beneath them. He felt slightly embarrassed to be barefoot in a museum.

He continued…

CLIFFNOTES: A GOBLIN’S FOOT FETISH: Goblins are isolated creatures with a brain-size of a walnut- a brain containing mostly one thought: a craving for eating feet. No researcher had discovered why this craving began, but the most perplexing mystery remains among goblin research: Goblins don’t leave any tracks. A myth amongst the folks of this time deduced that their craving for feet is a psychological traumatic response for their biology not providing the animal with one.

Michael began reading again…

Jackson Carpenter had stumbled into the bar again- drinking the amber-fluid sludge down. The goblin’s are in this town too. He slammed his drink down, “Everywhere I go!” he yelled to himself.

The bar around him looked uncomfortable at the man. They knew he was an important detective that showed up several months before, and didn’t say anything because of that.

Jackson left the bar around midnight, stumbling in the darkness as his feet tried to grip themselves on the wet cold town mud. A noise suddenly arose near the Shepard’s home he was at earlier that evening.

A dog barking. The missing dog!

A new motivation found him- find the dog- find the goblin and slay it once and for all!

His eyes were looking in every direction as his ears led his feet to a small shadow running across the fields behind the Shepard’s home.

For a moment Jackson thought whether to wake up the parents, but he pushed the thought away- they’re still in mourning.

He needed to do this. The goblin’s needed to be stopped.

Jackson whistled for the dog to come closer, but it ran off into the fields. He ran after it. Thank goodness he was drunk, he thought. No one in their right mind would run off into the fields at dark.

The dog was several miles away until it finally stopped next to a bush overlooking a forest. It was enough time for Jackson to catch up and grab the mut by the neck.

Jackson laid back panting, on the verge of vomit, as he held the dog on his chest.

He looked around and didn’t notice anything unusual, finally wondering if the dog was simply just tired of running. “What a waste-“ he began until a patch of darkness moved.

Jackson stopped and saw another shadow in the darkness. A wolf? No, it was shorter and standing on two feet. A child?

The dog tried to bark when Jackson immediately held its nozzle shut. The shadow kept moving as if it didn’t hear anything.

The closer it walked; he noticed it was a goblin. It was coming up the hill from the neighboring village. Another murder in the morning, thought Jackson.

The sunrise was in an hour as a lighter shade smothered the horizon. The shadow walked right passed him as if in a trance. It was wearing something heavy on the bottom of his feet.

Jackson remembered the myth: A goblin doesn’t have any feet- its what makes their footsteps invisible.

This was his chance, he knew.

Both of them walked several miles down the hills and through the valleys of rocks and trees. The Goblin didn’t seem to notice at all that it was being followed as if it was sleep-walking back home. The brighter the night got- the more Jackson could see dried blood all over the goblin’s mouth.

That wasn’t what shocked him.

He noticed the goblin’s feet- an object was covering it- sheep’s wool wrapped around it. Both had winded around a valley until Jackson realized he lost sight of the creature. It disappeared amongst the fluffy white poppy’s growing around them.

He waited until the sun was out a little higher, knowing the goblin would be asleep. Jackson walked into the field of white poppies looking for the goblin’s den. He had nearly spent the day looking for it until the dog began to sniff something in the ground.

Jackson walked closer and saw that there were two sheep-skin covered legs amongst heavy branches. Anyone walking buy wouldn’t have noticed anything but stumps of wood. The dog took a bite of the sheep-skin and dragged it back.

Jackson stared in awe as he saw the goblin’s foot and toes hiding underneath them.

The toes began to wiggle as a breeze of wind made them cold.

Jackson knew the creature was waking up. He grabbed the wool and hid behind the tree with the dog.

The goblin wiggled itself out of a hole and looked down at its bare-naked feet. It stared in bewilderment, as if it never knew it had its favorite meal hiding all along- it began to scream something in its own language- ‘soucks!’

Jackson watched as the goblin then ate its own feet.

Years following the incident Jackson Carpenter went from villages to villages that were plagued by goblin attacks, selling a material to hide one’s feet which also kept it warm on cold nights. Similar to what the goblin screamed that day, he called them socks...

Michael closed the book, deep in thought to what he had just learned about the mythology of socks.

Something then grabbed his feet and the boy jumped out of his chair falling backwards.

Michael’s eyes glared in fright fearing for the goblin creature’s he had just read about. He then realized what was underneath the table- the professor with a large grin on his face…