Handmade Scandinavian Gnome — Vampire

When the last ray of sun fades beyond the forest's edge and the world sinks into thick autumnal darkness, someone special wakes in these parts. No one knows how many centuries he has wandered among these trees. The locals say — he was always here.

He appears soundlessly: just a dark silhouette flickering among the trunks, a branch swaying without wind. A black velvet cloak with a crimson lining merges with the night, and only the top hat with the red ribbon betrays his presence in the moonlight.

He is in no hurry. Time long ago ceased to matter to him — it flows past like mist over a swamp, leaving no trace. His grey beard touches his chest, where a clay crimson heart sways. He is not wicked. Simply very, very old.

They say that at full moon he sits on an old log at the forest edge and stares at the sky for a long time. What he thinks about — no one dares to ask. But those who did venture to speak with him went away smiling. Because this ancient gnome knows how to give counsel and to listen the way only those can who have eternity ahead of them.

What the old gnomes have noticed — and do not say aloud — is that he is more reliable than most. He comes exactly when he said he would. He keeps what is told him in confidence. He has never once been caught in a contradiction. For a gnome of unknown age and uncertain origins, that is, by common silent agreement, quite enough.