Luck of the Irish
Part One: Unlucky Lucy and Her Big Mouth
A Commission by Hugo Prosperio

When Lucy Turnstall was a little girl, her mother told that if she didn’t wear green on Saint Patrick’s Day, leprechauns would come into her room at night and carry her up to the roof. As a child, she found this thought both funny and scary. She was afraid of heights, and yet the idea of tiny men in green suits carrying her to the roof as a prank was quite silly. One year she purposely wore blue, just to see if the myth was true. She didn’t wind up on the roof, but she noticed little footprints in her carpet. What fun, she thought. Leprechauns in my room.

She used to believe things like this could happen, but she grew up and lost her childish sense of wonder and magic. Now a junior in college, the only magical thing she believed in was being able to afford a night out drinking. One such night was on the eve of Saint Patrick’s Day.

“I’m not even Irish!” she said as she took a long sip from a cocktail that tasted like pineapples and cherries mixed with rubbing alcohol. “I don’t know why I celebrate this holiday!”

“Because you can get wasted!” said one of her friends. At least, she was pretending to be friends with this girl whose name she didn’t even recall. They had only met a few days prior through a friend of Lucy’s from work. Now Lucy was surrounded by girls she barely knew, drinking terrible drinks, hoping for the best on a cold March evening.

“Come on, Loos.” said one of the girls, coining a cloying nickname that earned her a scowl from Lucky. “Lets dance.” she added, dragging Lucy to the dance floor, wobbling on her heels as Lucy tried to break free from her grip. The DJ played a Maroon 5 song that people seemed to like, even if Lucy understand why.

“I am not really a dancing type of girl, uh, Stacey” she said trying to remember her name. She seemed to get it right, because the girl responded with a nod and a smile. “Sure thing, Loos. Have a drink on me” she said, handing her a five dollar bill before drunkenly wobbling back to the dance floor.

“Five dollars isn’t going to buy me squat in this joint.” she sighed as she pocketed the money.  

“She just likes to dance, it’s her thing” said the other girl she had decided to hang out with. Rebecca Something-or-other, Lucy thought.

Rebecca sat down and sipped at a screwdriver, draining the cup pretty quickly. “I, on the other hand, just like to drink.”

Lucy couldn’t fault her for that. Drinking was fun, even in an expensive place like this. She ordered a screwdriver like Rebecca’s and drank it down just as fast, hoping things would get more interesting.
The three of them left the club shortly after, at the suggestion of Lucy who thought they could find a regular old bar, someplace where they played good rock and roll music and had cheap beer on tap. The bar she had in mind was down the street, not very far, but with the booze in her system, it felt farther than ever.

“Are we even going the right way?” Stacey said.

“Trust me, I’ve walked this street a thousand times. I know where I am going.” she said. As she finished speaking, she slammed into another human being. She turned to see who it was and noticed an old woman standing next to a cart. The woman lost her balance and fell down, landing on her rump with an audible “oof.”

The other girls went silent as Lucy stared at the woman. Apologies ran through her mind, but she was drunk and bad choices were something she excelled at when drunk. “Watch out, lady” she shouted.

The woman looked scared and scrambled to a sitting position. “Young Lady, you should be more careful.” she said. Her accent was undeniably irish. The slight strands of ginger hair mixed with the grey that covered most of her head, and shone in the moonlight.

“Is it my fault old bags are just out and about at this time of night when good hard working young folk like myself are having good time?” Lucy said.

The woman’s eyes narrowed.

“Lucy, I don’t think you should…” Rebecca said.

“Don’t tell me what to do, this woman should be asleep in her cardboard box by now.” Lucy said with a gleeful snarl.

“I am not homeless.” The woman said back with a sharp tone. She stood up, the task easier than any of the girls assumed it would be for her. “I am an immigrant to to this country yes, but, I make an honest living and have a place of my own. Who are you to judge me, lass.”

“Lucy Turnstall.” She said confidently. “And perhaps you should go back to the homeland, you leprechaun bitch.”

The other girl’s eyes widened, and expected horror or anger to cross the woman’s face, but they saw a smile, which was just about the spookiest thing they had ever seen.  

“Leprechaun, eh? Do you know of the wee folk then? Perhaps not as well as you think, but I can give you a lesson, oh yes, all of you a lesson you’ll never forget.”

The woman’s hands shout out and she began to chant.

"a seal ar tú a chaith mé
a bheith ar an leipreachán
bheith ar an daoine beag go deo agus lá"

The words sounded old and cursed, and Rebecca and Stacey were starting to get scared. Stacey could swear the woman’s eyes were glowing and that wind was kicking up. Lucy stared on in defiance as the words swirled out of the woman’s mouth.

“Go home, you old hag.” Lucy said once more.

“Oh, I shall. I am done for the evening. Do enjoy your “little” lesson, all of you.

She began to close up the cart, and the girl’s made their exit.

“Did you need to be mean?” Stacey said.

“Yeah, I ain’t ever seen you act like that.” Rebecca said.

“It was the booze talking.” Lucy noted, almost proud. “It’s just how I am when I am drunk.”

“Perhaps we should call it a night. You can crash at our place.” Rebecca said. Lucy lived across the city, while her and Stacey had an apartment right around the corner, and it was far more convenient than letting this ball of fury and rum try to make her way home alone.

The three arrived home and as they sobered up, Lucy realized she felt pretty badly about how she treated the woman. She resolved to go out the next day to the cart to see if she was around and apologize. This was the last thought she had before drifting to sleep on the couch.

In the morning the sunlight burst through the window and onto Lucy’s face and she woke with a start. She sat up, groggily rubbing her temples, brushing hair out of her eyes. Wait. Her hair was never long, she thought to herself. Since her teenage years she had always kept it cut close to her head. The hair, she noticed, was a vibrant orange-red, ginger. Was someone playing a prank on her? Had Rebecca or Stacey put a wig on her to confuse her in her hungover state?

She swung her legs over to stand up, but they didn’t quite touch the floor like she was expecting, so she stumbled as she dropped.

“What the hell.” she muttered. “I’m never drinking again.”

She moved forward, attempting to walk towards the kitchen to make coffee or something that would wake her up, when she tripped on something and fell flat on her face.

“Oh come on.” she moaned as she turned and saw a shocking sight. The item she tripped over had been her own panties, which were much larger looking than she was used to. She stood up, walked over and picked them up and they felt huge, like she had been a child playing dress-up in her mother’s closet. “What? No. That can’t be.”

She turned and ran for the kitchen, looking down and seeing her t-shirt that she had worn to bed was huge, like a mumu or something. She was starting to panic. She was still drunk, that was it. This was all a drunken weird stupor, had to be. This thought ran through her mind until she reached a mirror. She went to make a noise, but nothing came out. There in the mirror was a small woman, no more than three feet tall, with long ginger hair, curling from the humidity, and wearing oversized clothing. Her eyes widened and she leaned into the mirror just in time to watch her ears grow pointed.

“I look like a fairy…” she muttered before realization hit her.

“Not a fairy. A leprechaun.”

The thought was interrupted by two consecutive screams coming from the bedrooms of the apartment.

“Rebecca. Stacey.” she thought, breaking from her frightened state and running towards the room. The doors of each opened and similar results were found. Each of the girls was now shorter, although it seemed as if Lucy was the shortest, and each sported long ginger locks that elegantly framed their terrified faces.

“How is this possible?!” Stacey said with tears in her eyes. “I’m a munchkin.”

“A Leprechaun, I think.” Rebecca said, turning to look at Lucy. “Because of you! You made that old woman curse us. She turned us into goddamn Leprechauns!”

“I didn’t know she could do that!” Lucy said. “How could I possibly know she could actually turn us into a mythological creature?!”

The three began to bicker back and forth, until they wore themselves out and they all three sat down on the floor, assessing their situation.

“Well, we have to go find her. Apologize. Get this sorted out.” Stacey suggested.

“Good plan. “Hello there, actual witch lady whom we pissed off, please help us change back”” Lucy sneered.

“”We?” What is this “we” you speak of. YOU pissed her off, and we suffer for it.” Rebecca shouted.

“Look, lets not fight anymore, it’s not getting us anywhere.” Stacey pleaded as she stood up. She paced around in circles, trying to think. Rebecca then gasped.

“Stacey, you are still getting smaller.” she said. It was true, in the moments of pacing, several inches vanished from her height. Looking around, Rebecca noted that Lucy had also shrunk again.

“We are going to be actual leprechauns, like in Darby O’ Gill and the Little People.” she said with a squeak of fear.

Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the apartment door that made all three girls go quiet. It came again, and then a third time. Then the door creaked open.

“Hello?” came a hauntingly familiar voice. “Wee Lasses, are you in here?”

“The woman” Lucy hissed in as quiet a tone as she could. The three of them bolted up and went into Rebecca’s room, trying to find a place to hide.

“Don’t be afraid. I imagine you’ve had quite enough of that for this morning.” the woman said as she walked into the hallway where they had been. “Oh come now, you think hiding is really going to help you? Look what I was able to do to you with some old fashioned magic, I can surely find you out, girls.”

They quivered under Rebecca’s bed until a large face filled their vision. They screamed, and the face laughed.

“Hello there! Come on out and we’ll have a chat.” she said. “I feel like I owe you an explanation for the morning you’ve had. I’m not a monster, after all.” she added with a lilt of irish laughter. It did nothing to ease the minds of the three leprechaun girls who reluctantly came out from under the bed.

To Be Continued...