All the Queen's Goats
An elderly couple undergoes unexpected couples counseling while a constable investigates a High Crime against the kingdom.
The NYC Midnight Short Story Challenge has a simple premise: you are given parameters, a word count, and a deadline. The rest is up to your imagination.
I was half excited, half leery to join this competition at the prodding of my friend Ray. This was my foray into writing for the first time since I was a kid, really, but the format and having paid to join ($57, early bird registration) were enough to spur me to action in late January.
I received my parameters via email at midnight on 1/25/25:
GENRE: Mystery
SUBJECT: Couples therapy
CHARACTER: A hunter
I was disappointed and stumped! I’m a pretty heavy genre reader, with a deep focus on Sci Fi and Fantasy. I didn’t know how to construct a mystery, especially with a 2,500 word limit. I fumbled with some ideas for a few days and then finally sat down to write as the deadline quickly approached. I opted to write something cozy and low stakes and found a mystery for characters I’d enjoy spending time with.
The feedback process takes months, and I hadn’t really expected to move beyond Round 1. Results were sent out at midnight on April 2nd. Scanning for my group, I was extra pleasantly surprised to learn that I placed first in my group (roughly 25 writers) and was moving on to the second round.
It was a bright and pleasant morning when the Constable rapped on the circular door of the Hammerblast hovel. No one answered, but he picked up faint squabbling coming from behind the squat home. He stepped past some recently chewed-down grass, nearly tripping on a rake laid precariously across a worn footpath. The Constable prided himself on his powers of observation, and he wondered how he missed the rake. The more interesting question is how he missed the recently chewed-down grass.
“Just grab the dang thing and put it back!” he heard an old woman shout, exasperated. He couldn’t make out the grumbled reply, but he thought it included the phrases “stop bossing me around” and “like you could do it.” He rounded a curved wall to see a short, rotund old man stooped at an angle that seemed to defy the law of gravity as a chicken darted away from him. “Blast!” he said as he straightened up, one hand clutching his lower back.
The Constable paused as the old woman stepped away to pick up a goatskin bag. She heaved a heavy sigh and then cooed at the bird, dropping bits of feed in a trail leading into a rickety coop. “Here you go, Ruthie…come on back so we can go make our eggs.” The bird made a wide arc around the old man but was happy to peck at the feed and climb the ramp back to her roost. Once inside, the woman shut the door, pinned it closed, and turned to her husband with a look that said, “Do I have to do everything around here?” She noticed the Constable.
“Oh!” she started, with her hand on her chest. “My goodness, you scared me!”
“Hmmm?” the old man said, not yet seeing the Constable. “Why? They never roam far.” He saw the woman, his wife, point and only then noticed the Constable. “Oh, hello, Constable. Good morning to you.” He straightened up to his full height yet somehow seemed to shrink an inch.
“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Hammerblast. I’m sorry to interrupt,” he glanced at the coop, “but I wonder if I could speak with you about a rather pressing issue we’re concerned with.”
“Oh, no interruption at all, dear!” the woman answered. “Come inside and we’ll fix you some breakfast. Gus and I always love when you pay us a visit. You do us well to stop by from time to time.” The couple smiled at each other and the Constable was surprised at how quickly they seemed to drop their quarrel.
Yet that smile was also short lived as the man continued, “I hope you’ve eaten already. Mabel’s eggs have been known to pass through a man quicker than the rain passes through Dusty Gulch in the dry season.”
Mabel’s countenance soured but it was the Constable who replied first, “Mr. Hammerblast, please. We’ve talked about this. How do you think Mrs. Hammerblast feels when you say such things?”
The old man opened his mouth, seemingly ready with another quip, but caught himself. “You’re right, Constable,” he said instead. “I do wonder sometimes how Mabel puts up with me.” And to the Constable’s complete shock, he then turned to Mabel and said, “I’m sorry, dear. I shouldn’t say such things, even if they might be true.”
Mabel let that last part pass, content with his apology. And before the Constable could object to her invitation, she passed the men, saying “Right this way, then”, leading them back to the circular door at the front of the house. She opened the door and led them through the modest foyer, adorned with a small table, a goatskin rug, and a set of hooks for cloaks and gloves. The light inside the house was limited by windows with mostly-closed shutters, but the nearly spent fire in the kitchen warmed the room and provided a cozy light. Gus opened the shutters at the far wall of the kitchen while Mabel pulled a clutch of fresh eggs from her apron. “Do sit down, Constable, and tell us what has you making the rounds while I fry up these eggs.”
“I’m afraid it’s quite serious,” the Constable explained. “I’m sure you know how vitally important the Queen’s goats are to the local economy.” Gus and Mabel glanced at each other, then nodded at the Constable. “Her Majesty adores her herd and provides the finest care for them.” The Hammerblasts knew that the economic wellbeing of their kingdom was actually due to an abundance of arable land and veins of important metals in the mountains, but they let the Constable continue.
“Well unfortunately, someone, or something has been hunting the goats and has driven them away! No goats have been seen in the area for weeks! Do you remember when the ground shook, as if the gods themselves were angry that someone was offending the Queen’s honor?” The couple nodded again. “Do you think…” He trailed off, biting his lower lip, nervous to continue. He bowed his head and leaned in, lowering his voice to a whisper, “Do you think a dragon could be hunting the goats?”
Gus and Mabel each started to reply. “I suppose anything is possible…” said one, overlapping the other saying, “Stranger things have happened.”
“The situation is dire,” he continued, reasserting control of his emotions. “Her Majesty depends on the bounty of the goats’ milk for cheese served each morning as part of Her breakfast. Our Queen hasn’t had a proper breakfast for weeks, and how can she possibly be expected to rule if she’s malnourished? By the gods, her wrath has been terrible lately. I fear for the fool standing between our Queen and her breakfast cheese.”
“Yes, of course,” said Gus, his mouth turned down in a sympathetic frown.
“And I think we can help,” said Mabel, as she set a plate of eggs in front of the Constable. “Hurry up and eat and then let us take a walk to show you something.”
The Constable never once had anything less than a stellar meal from Mabel and he happily consumed the eggs and toast she had laid in front of him. He washed it all down with a cool glass of milk, and returning his attention to the Hammerblasts, found them bickering at the door.
“You foolish old coot, you don’t need a walking stick.” Mabel rolled her eyes as she tightened the straps on her boots. Goatskin leather, by the look of them. “You never lose your balance,” she was explaining to her husband.
“That’s precisely why I need it.” He raised his finger to emphasize his point, adding, “And, it makes me feel like a wizard.”
Mabel stood up. The day was warm, so she left her cloak on its hook, but she did pull two leather leads off the hooks and stuffed them into the pocket of her apron where the eggs had been. She narrowed her eyes as she took Gus in. “You are the furthest thing from a wizard I have ever seen. You don’t even have a beard! And gods help us if you had any magic ability. I doubt you’d still have all your fingers.”
The observant Constable didn’t pay attention to what they packed, but he felt compelled to comment on what they were saying. “Mrs. Hammerblast,” he started, carefully, “is your dear husband hurting you or anyone else by bringing his staff?” She frowned. “Maybe you can just let him take such small joys when they come?”
She inhaled and turned for the door, then paused and turned to Gus. “He’s right. I’m sorry. Lead the way, Gustavo the Gray.”
The trio could not have picked a better day for a walk. The Hammerblasts lived at the start of the foothills of the mountains, where the land piled upon itself and turned from rolling fields into craggy outcrops of rock. The “road” here was a well-worn path into town used by the sparse residents to pull their wagons filled with produce down to the market when it passed through town. After a short while, Gus led them off the road and through an untended field of wheat and wildflowers.
After a quiet few minutes, Gus began, “Constable, I wonder if you might be willing to give us some advice.” He glanced at Mabel, as if looking for her approval to proceed. She didn’t seem to notice, but he took her silence as agreement and continued. “You see, you always give wise counsel and we’re right grateful for it, that we are.”
The Constable was rather fond of the Hammerblasts and told Gus to continue. Though he had no idea where this was going or how he could help, he’d be happy to try.
“It’s been a number of years since our daughter left to move in with George, the miller’s son.” The Constable knew of their marriage and two–no, three–children at this point, but he patiently let Gus explain. “Mabel and I…well, we’re a little bored. A little stir-crazy.” He looked at Mabel. They took a few more steps, then she picked up the thread from her husband:
“Ah, it’s hard to explain. We have a good life. We see Hannah and the grandkids often, we love our humble home, but sometimes it just feels like the same quiet, unassuming day plays over and over and…” She sighed.
“I think I understand,” said the Constable, looking for the words to both probe and support them. “Tell me, when are you most happy? If that’s the right word to use.”
They thought for a minute as they reached the bottom of the hill. Here there was a narrow, slow creek. Gus probed the depths with his staff, then stepped onto a flat rock that lay just under the surface of the water. He held his hand out to Mabel, who followed him across the creek. The Constable came after and they started to pick their way across ground that now had more stones and rocks than before.
It was Gus who answered. “We’re right happy all the time, right Mabel?” She nodded. “It’s more that…we’ve kind of accomplished all our goals, so we’re looking for ways we can have some fun and, I don’t know…” He stared ahead, while Mabel walked beside him. She glanced up and he finished his thought: “...maybe recapture some of our youth.”
The Constable considered for a few steps, then replied, “It seems to me a natural and beautiful thing that you would find such peace at this point in your life, but also miss the thrills of spontaneity, youthful passion, and overcoming obstacles you faced in building a life together.” He took a few more steps. “Let me ask it this way: have you found any ways to add some zest to your days?”
Here, a spark kindled in Mabel’s eyes. “Oh, yes, that’s exactly it, Constable. We’ve been a bit busier lately, and it’s been a hoot!” She laughed and Gus’s eyes went wide, but then a laugh erupted from his mouth, too.
“Okay, what we’re really wondering,” Gus stammered as he regained his composure, “is if you think it’s okay or not if we…engage in some mischief now and then. Nothing dangerous or mean-spirited,” he said, as if expecting the Constable to object, “but maybe not what you’d call proper behavior from a humble, old couple who are good, upstanding citizens in their village. And love their Queen!” he added, knowing how important that last detail would be to the Constable.
“I don’t think I have much counsel to offer, really. If you have a happy and peaceful life, and also have fun without hurting yourselves or others, then, I’m happy for you. I think I understand your mischief well.”
The Hammerblasts stiffened but continued walking. They were climbing the rocky terrain at a decent slope at this point.
“As long as law and order is upheld, and as long as there is cheese on the table every morning for our Queen, then any good natured mischief for the benefit of an honorable relationship is acceptable in my book.”
By now the group had reached a natural fence between the foothills and the mountains. A steep cliff rose up, blocking a pass between two much larger hills. Mabel pointed along the face of the cliff to a spot nearby where a section of the rock wall had tumbled down, leaving a pile of rubble that would be easy for any sure-footed animals to navigate.
“Dear Constable, do you see where the cliff has broken open, making a passageway into the hills?”
The Constable nodded, not yet understanding what she was trying to show him. She beckoned him to follow her. “Come on, let us get closer.”
The rocks were big enough to be pretty stable, but small enough to climb over or around. The Constable cautioned the Hammerblasts to stay back, but they picked their way up the slope, holding hands and using Gus’s staff for support.
As they were just about to reach the breach itself, the Constable paused. He cocked his head, and his eyes lit up. “Wait!” He looked around as if straining to hear what the Hammerblasts already knew to expect. “Is it–” he scrambled ahead, then stopped when he could confirm what he thought he had heard. “It’s the goats! Mr. and Mrs. Hammerblast, can you hear them? The whole herd must be through there!”
Gus and Mabel beamed back at him. How they enjoyed seeing his face light up with excitement. He was a good Constable, and a good friend, and they were happy to be able to help him.
“But wait,” he grew alarmed and looked to the sky. What if there was a dragon around? He half expected to see a shadow above him and feared being swept up by some massive talons.
Gus explained, “Ah, my dear Constable, ‘twas not a dragon hunting the Queen’s goats! This wall came down naturally, not from some fell beast. That rumble you felt a few weeks ago was a shudder from the earth herself, and this breach was the result. The goats who were so happy to roam the fields below are even more happy to explore beyond this wall! I’m sure the Queen will be thrilled to know that her Herd is safe!”
The sun had passed its zenith, but a lovely afternoon was still ahead, so the Hammerblasts were happy to send the Constable off to the castle to share the good news. Besides, they had work to do. Gus fished a handful of carrots out of his pocket, handing one to Mabel as she handed him one of the leads from her apron. Soon after they picked their way down the rocky hillside with two goats in tow, relishing the silly excitement of stealing the Queen’s goats from right under the nose of the Constable.
Congrats, my man! A well-deserved first place finish. I can't wait to see how round two goes and I hope you get a crack at round three!