The Legend of Norbone Buttertot
Flash fiction: urban legend style
Never cross as one
Ever go by two
Lest Norbone Buttertot rides for you
Every time Arthur Smarmerton heard this ridiculous chant it set his teeth on edge, and his blood to boiling. How could supposedly educated and erudite people believe in such superstitious hogwash? After all, was not the purpose of University to secure a place for oneself among the privileged elite? The intelligentsia?
He had been attending school for a mere month, yet the nonsensical invocation followed him everywhere. The teachers recited it at the beginning of every class; his classmates harangued passersby in what were supposed to be hallowed halls of learning; the fellow denizens of his dorm whispered it amongst each other in the small hours of the night.
Norbone Buttertot indeed: Why, what a laughable name for a supposedly terrifying specter!
The span loomed before him, and, much to his consternation, Arthur Smarmerton found himself hesitant to cross. It rose in an elegant arc over a wide and languidly paced creek, with delicately wrought iron rails fastened securely on either side. The last rays of sunlight were sliding below the horizon, while the Moon began its slow march across the nighttime skies.
He had gotten absorbed in several particularly engrossing studies during his daily library trip - one of the few places where he could abide alone and unbothered - only to come to the abrupt realization he was going to be late for his weekly confab with his fellow future betters of the world. There was no choice but for him to make the dirty trek through the shortcut that meandered its way into the heart of the campus woods; which meant crossing The Bridge.
As many times as he had scoffed at the idiotic notion of the specter of one Norbone Buttertot preying upon those who dared to cross alone, Smarmerton was himself now assailed by doubt and worry. He glanced around forlornly; hoping that someone was nearby to traverse The Bridge in tandem with himself. Alas, he was all by his lonesome, with only the dense foliage of the lush forest closing in all around him.
The sky was nearly shrouded in darkness, and he would have to pick his way through the trees in pitch blackness if he hemmed and hawed for much longer. Resolving to rid himself of his peasant fears and anxieties Arthur Smarmerton took his first, not entirely confident, step onto the aged wooden planks. He paused momentarily - perhaps subconsciously awaiting Buttertot’s wrath.
The symphony of a forest teeming with life continued unabated, and there was not the slightest indication of calamity. Smarmerton shook his head in disdain.
“So much for Norbone Buttertot,” he sneered aloud. “I knew all along it was the idiocy and ignorance of so many country bumpkins.”
No sooner did he utter these words of contempt than a violent rush of wind nearly bowled him over. Smarmerton was sent sprawling as he felt a ghostly presence collide with his corporeal self.
Never cross as one
Ever go by two
Lest Norbone Buttertot rides for you.
The rhyme was borne on the breeze to his ears in a haunting whisper, and was the last thing in this world that he heard before succumbing to oblivion.
On the opposite bank of the creek from that fateful encounter - a short walk up a winding footpath - lay an enclosed and fairly overgrown garden containing small, lifelike bronze sculptures of various shapes, sizes, and poses. The origins of said space had long since been forgotten, but those who strolled by were occasionally surprised to see the arrival of the odd new statue.
Anyone passing through in the days immediately following the disappearance of their haughty and inscrutable classmate would have been intrigued to note the addition of a certain new effigy to the timeworn collection.
Those who happened to be paying particularly close attention would have been even more astounded at the uncanny likeness it shared with one specific soul: the once-skeptical freshman, Arthur Smarmerton.
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Curiosity killed the Smarmerton. I like how all the victims become statues, like trophies for the ghost. Awesome story, Josh.
A little different than what I’ve read from you in the past, but same quality nonetheless! It draws from many preexisting ghost stories (the legend of Sleepy Hollow in particular comes to mind) while still managing to feel original with its first person pov. You’ve truly captured the style of the old cautionary legend here, from the eerie rhyme at the beginning to the ending featuring a fate worse than death. Chilling indeed!