Folklore is one thing—running into one of these creatures is another. Before we delve into the legendary piskies, here’s my take on them, from my Victorian monster fantasy series (Book Four).
‘You ain’t going anywhere just yet,’ a high, ringing voice declared. ‘You’ll be staying right there, thank you very much.’
A tiny figure spilled from the hedge, flitting over to where Lalassu now grazed upon the thin spread of grass. The most diminutive creature Silas had ever laid eyes upon settled on the pale horse’s saddle. His saddle.
‘Good day to you, sir.’ The tiny critter resembled a short, crooked stick, with a slash in the bark to take the place of a mouth, two glistening dewdrops for eyes, and three peach-coloured petals linked to make up each arm and both legs. ‘It’s said you aren’t half as fearful as you appear. And we see it now, don’t we, Ped?’
‘Maybe, but I’m not coming out, Tar, not with that wild fellow still about,’ came the haughty reply. ‘Did you not just hear him say he’ll roast us?’
The creature on the saddle, evidently Tar, folded its petal arms. ‘And did you not just see how well this chap brought him to heel?’
Pitch stiffened, and Silas placed himself between the very much not-at-heel wild fellow and the audacious stick creature.
‘Now, now. That’s enough of all that.’ Silas cleared his throat and took the few steps needed to stand alongside Lalassu; the horse grazing on without a worry. ‘Would you care to explain why you assaulted us both with your pebbles?’
‘To get your attention, clearly,’ a very indignant Ped declared, still ensconced in the hedge’s shelter. ‘You wouldn’t notice an ant on the ground any more than you would the likes of us.’
‘Don’t mind my sibling. I’m Tar, and we are piskie, not spriggan. That was quite rude of your companion to say, to be honest. But we are very much pleased to meet you.’ Astonishingly, the tiny specimen of bark and nature held out one of its petalled arms; as though offering a hand to shake. It had neither hands nor sense. Silas stared down at the fragile material on offer, delicate as a butterfly’s wing.
‘Ah, well…it is very nice to meet you, Tar. I am Silas.’ He touched the tip of one finger to the petal’s extremity, holding his breath as he did so, fearful that even an exhale might send the creature hurtling. ‘And my travel companion is Tobias.’ Something awfully like a dark chuckle came from the hedge. Silas raised his brow. ‘Is something the matter?’
‘Travel companion, you say?’ Ped the piskie scoffed, mimicking Silas in a very unbecoming way from where it hid. ‘He’s a portion more than that, I’d wager.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ Now it was Silas’s turn to bristle, but the critter perched upon Lalassu’s saddle lifted peach petals, waving them about.
‘Take no notice of him. Ped and your fellow share a quick temper.’
Bloody hell, was there no escaping it? Pitch was not his fellow.
(This is a read-in-order series—start with Book 1 below.)
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Piskies in Folklore
Piskies is the Cornish word for (perhaps) the better-known pixies of folklore. You'll find piskies in the Cornwall and Dartmoor areas of England, where their roots are thought to come from Celtic origins.
Said to look like tiny old men with wrinkled faces and red hair, and with clothes made of moss, grass and lichen, these teeny pranksters are not unlike Brownies, who are known for being both mischievous and helpful, depending on their mood. Many a story involves a traveller being led astray across the moors by a naughty piskie. There is even a term for the phenomenon - to be "piskie-led." And apparently, simply turning your coat inside out, or wearing iron, will break the spell the cheeky fae has over a lost traveller, enabling them to find their way once more.
What exactly are the piskies?
Well, the stories vary. Some believed them to be the souls of pagans who could not transcend to heaven, or remnants of pagan gods pushed aside by Christianity. Perhaps the most macabre origin story relates to piskies being the souls of babies who had not been Christened. No guesses who liked to spread that tale about. It was a favourite of Clergymen, and they used it to explain many other fairies of lore.
At some point though, it was decided that piskies were actually lucky. And in the not-too-distant past every home in Cornwall had a piskie charm of some kind, in the hope of attracting the luck of the piskies (when those creatues were in an agreeable mood). To this day, souvenirs from Cornwall often contain a piskie or two, for the very same reason.
The Diabolus Chronicles features piskies in book four, The Greensward, when Pitch and Sickle encounter two little scamps who are fond of throwing rocks. I gave them a more 'natural' appearance, and imagine them as tiny twig-men with dew drop eyes and flower petal hands. But they have attitude by the bucket load, and are masters at riling up the heroes of the tale.
🌟Check out the Diabolus Chronicles series page HERE
(Source- mysteriousbritain.co.uk)