Goodbye Sock Goblin

Of all the wights, the ones that we share the most with, and pay the least attention to are the house
wights. They do not shake the earth, or shatter the sky, they do not speak from beyond the grave with
wisdom from ages past, they share our hearth and our home, are with us when we feast, when we
laugh, when we cry, when we drag ourselves home to collapse. Our house wights share our lives, and
sometimes, our socks.
Perhaps strangest of all the House Wights are the Sock Goblins. Poorly understood, the sock goblins are
indeed of ancient linage, whose favour is purchased with the gift of a sock. There have been some folk
who knit a third sock when giving a gift, so that you could guarantee that the recipient could have a pair
of fine socks, and the Sock Goblin would be inclined to protect the remaining pair, and he or she who
wore them. Sadly, since the industrial age, when socks were purchased from manufacturers in pre
made pairs, the Sock Goblins were reduced to raiding your dryer to take what is owed them from grown
men and women.
Children are born into a world of wonder, when everything is strange and magical. The innocent
acceptance of children wins over many of the unseen creatures, who show far more of themselves to
our young, than they ever will to older, and frequently harder eyed, elders. As quickly as they learn not
to stray within arms reach of the curious youth, the wights of the house learn the generous nature,
playful and loving ways of our children, and come to love and protect them, much as their families do.
This is the story of one such girl, and one such goblin.
There was born into the House of Mainer a girl named Caitlyn. She was wide eyed, strong lunged, and
laughing. Whatever she did, she did at the top of her lungs, or at full speed. Always distracted, Caitlyn
lived forever in the moment, forever in the wonder of discovery. One day, as she was being prepared to
go for a walk in her stroller, her socks and booties had just been put on, even though she had decided
that it would be really nice to hum on her toes for a while. When her mother was preparing the diaper
bag to stow under the stroller, she worked off her left booty, and began to try to push off her Winnie
the Pooh sock. As she did this, a small creature, about the height of her cat, but on two legs sneaked up
and reached with greenish claws to grab the end of the sock, and gently tug it off. Between the girl and
the goblin, the sock was off and Caitlyn waived cheerfully to her new friend, with her newly naked foot,
before jamming it happily in her mouth to hum upon.
As the Sock Goblin watched from the front doorway, he saw the mother notice the naked toes in the
happy childs mouth, and begin cursing, and digging a spare pair of booties and socks from the diaper
bag. As Caitlyn laughingly played keep away with her feet with her mommy, she waved to her new
friend in the window, still holding his fresh taken Winnie the Pooh sock.
The Sock Goblin looked down upon the sock, freely given, with wonder. A sock freely given was a
blessing most potent, and an equal blessing he would give in return. For a foot newly naked he blessed
with goat grace. While cats are famed for falling safely, goats fall not at all. Where fear and good sense
keep most creatures away, goat and young children are liable to play. A gift for a gift was the rule of the
wight, and the gift of goat grace paid for socks lost from sight.
Year upon year, the two grew together. Socks became larger, losses more common. While her Sock
Goblin prospered, he wasnt alone, for the losing of socks was the young girl quite prone. Indeed young
Caitlyn was beloved of many, for her heart was quite open, and her self quite unwary. Goblins and

gnomes she gifted both with intent and neglect, a life quite untidy but happily spent. Caitlyn grew
strong with the gifts of her blood, and grew uncommonly graceful from a Sock Goblins love. Dance
tights and cow-socks, leg warmers and foot undies, the Sock Goblins harvest was quite the bold tally.
Year upon year the wights watched her grow, but the gnomes of the hearth knew that soon she would
go. Children arent trees to be bound to their roots, soon the young damsel would leave her birth roof.
Her Sock Goblin wept, he would not see her go. The Hearth wights were grew worried for the old
goblins health, for he just cried by his socks, taking no joy in his wealth. His world had colour while she
walked in his life; magic and wonder that shone from her eyes. Soon she was leaving, and he would stay
on, for a wight to his hearth must ever be bound.
The Sock Goblin turned to the oldest Hearth Wight, the great Old House Mother to help with his plight.
The years she has given me, I cannot repay, the joy and the wonder she shared every day. She filled up
my life with socks and with love, and opened a world I never have known.
The wise old House Mother was a kindly old wight, and felt for the goblin in his love-sick old plight. She
knew the old magic, the binding of folk, the great old magic taught by gods, for binding a people, and
binding of wounds.
A gift she has given, and gift you returned. Sock freely given for which you gave grace, but now you
acknowledge she gave something more, a gift you are needing to even the score. What she gave
unthinking is hard to repay, her love lit your world and made you feel warm, what gift can you give her
that will do the same?
There are wights of great power, and wights of deep magic, wights of deep wisdom, and wights of bold
passion, a Sock Goblin is less, being a wight of foot fashion. While his magic is small and his world is
feet, his nature was loving and his heart it was sweet. Nothing he loved like a warm fuzzy sock, nothing
he knew spoke of such boundless love. A Sock Goblins horde he loved like a dragon, treasured like gold,
and parted with never.
Caitlyn was leaving, and packing for college, her childhood past, she was hungry for knowledge. Her
home hearth behind her, she would conquer the world. Half way on her journey to becoming a woman,
she had traded much wonder for the depth of her knowledge. Somewhere inside her still lived the
bright girl, but more must she become to take on the world. When finished her packing and ready to
leave, she went hunting her socks from the wilds of her floor. Her right sock she found, for the right
gets the first, her left socks seemed destined to wander the earth. At last with a shout she caught sight
of her sock, it poked from the closet in cottony warmth. With a cry did she pounce and give it a tug,
with shock did she feel it like pulling a rug. She opened the closet to see what was the matter, and
found her old sock had been sewn in a sweater. The sweater was all socks, and no two the same, she
twisted and turned them, and called them by name. There was her legging, long thought lost at dance,
and here was her cow-sock from Christmas long past. There was the stripped sock from grade 8 field
hockey, there was the squirrel sock with a picture of Rocky. Socks from her pre-school and socks from
her grad, socks from all ages, like a map of her past.
Inside the sweater was stitched a wee note, she looked with some interest to see what they wrote;
I was your Sock Goblin for all your youth, and now you are leaving, this is the cold truth. I am but a
house wight and here must I bide, so I weave you this sweater to keep by your side. Each sock was a gift
that I had from your hand, each sock was a moment, the best that I had. All Goblins will know you when

this sweater you wear, whatever the hearth they will welcome you there. You gave me your sock, and I
gave you your grace, now I give you my love as you go from this place.
Caitlyn was touched and she started to cry, and she used her one sock to dry her wet eyes. Looking
down at the sock, and its sweater bound mate, she knew that an offering is what she must make. With
her own pen she scratched out a note, and stuffed down deep in the tip of the toe. Leaving the last sock
for her own wee Sock Goblin, she gathered her stuff, and drove up the mountain.
Up mountain went Caitlyn to bold SFU, in residence with her friends old and new. University life was
exciting and strange, a whole new world, a whole new bold stage! One thing about living at last on your
own, was the boring old tasks of keeping your home. Down to the laundry with her room mates and
friends, the washing it seems, well it just never ends. When folding her laundry she shouted out loud,
when the mate to her sock, it just couldnt be found.
Her friends heard her laughing, her friends saw her cry, she hugged her old sweater, and refused to say
why. Far from her home, and far up the mountain, she again lost a sock, to her faithful Sock Goblin.
John T Mainer.