Iwo Tuleya
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Skarbnyk
Whenever I walked this route, I had to pass by the estate’s dumpster, as the main sidewalk ran right next to it. Normally, I didn’t mind, except for the overwhelming stench of urine emanating from it, which I usually ignored and just kept moving. This time, however, as I neared the dumpster, I caught a peculiar smell. Very peculiar. I was certain I’d never encountered it before. It blended into the usual stench of urine, sharp yet oddly pleasant—reminiscent of freshly dug earth.
I had just passed the dumpster when a sudden clatter sounded behind me. I stopped and turned my head. The doors were open. I was surprised. Was it another bum?
I approached, irritated and ready to yell at the trespasser. But to my astonishment, when I reached the entrance, there was no one there. I scanned the room—empty.
“Hello?” I called out, standing in the doorway. "Is anyone here?"
No response. I figured maybe someone had failed to properly close the door and it had swung open on its own, but something still didn’t sit right with me. I stepped inside.
Suddenly, the door slammed shut.
I lunged at it. I yanked at the handle, but the harder I pulled, the less it budged. Breaking it down was out of the question—it was metal. The only window to the outside was far too small for me to squeeze through. No way out. Tears welled up in my eyes as I accepted that I’d be spending the entire night in this hellhole. I sank to my knees. Why hadn’t I brought my phone? I could have called Frania and had her turn back to rescue me.
Something rustled in one of the bins.
My heart leapt to my throat. Not only was I trapped, but now I had company—some kind of wild animal. I huddled near the door.
A figure crawled out of the organic waste bin. It stood upright, shook off some dirt that scattered onto the ground, and stepped into the light streaming from the window.
It was... a man.
He was about 1.2 meters tall. He wore a filthy, tattered suit. His face was old, unshaven, and pockmarked.
I stood up. The little man barely reached my waist. He studied me carefully. Only then did I realize that the earthy scent I had noticed earlier was coming from him. He raised an open hand in a gesture of peace and smiled.
“Good evening,” he said in a raspy voice ruined by cigarettes.
“Good evening,” I nodded.
“My name is Marcin Pigmowski,” he explained. “I was hungry. It’s hard to live on just worms, you know.”
“How did you get in here, Mr. Pigmowski? Wasn’t the door locked?”
He thought for a moment.
“Well, you see, I don’t usually bother with doors.”
“Wait, so... Ah, I get it. You squeezed through that gap?” I pointed to the dumpster’s lone window.
“Not quite,” he replied.
His answer puzzled me. We stood in silence for a moment. I took the chance to study him more closely. His gray hair starkly contrasted with his eyes, which resembled egg yolks.
“You shouldn’t be here. This is a private dumpster, only for residents,” I stated firmly.
The little man gave me a sorrowful look. He pulled a small bottle from his breast pocket and took a swig of some rusty-colored liquid.
“Do you hear me?” I continued. “You can’t take anything from here. It’s against the law.”
“Ah, your laws! Why don’t you tell me your name instead?”
“Krzysztof Żurawski,” I replied.
He flinched slightly, took another swig from his vial, and took two steps back, now scrutinizing me.
“Interesting...” he murmured.
“Listen, Mr. Pigmowski, I won’t call the police, but you need to tell me how you got in here,” I demanded. “I’m in a bit of a hurry.”
“Mister,” he said sharply, “you’re not in a hurry at all.” He winked. “And secondly, you don’t have your phone with you. Don’t lie to me. I despise deceit, understand?”
I was startled. How did he know? Maybe he guessed that if I’d had a phone, I would’ve used it by now.
“Alright, fine.”
“Good.”
“So, will you help me get out?”
“That depends.”
I grimaced.
“Depends on what?” I glared at him, emphasizing my height advantage. “You’re trespassing in our dumpster, eating our garbage. And now you’re telling me it ‘depends’?”
Pigmowski smacked his lips, then vanished into the ground.
I jumped back, terrified, and fell. He had simply disappeared—right before my eyes.
“Pigmowski? Where the hell are you? We’re not done here!” I shouted, my voice shaking more from shock than anger.
As I lay there, the cold concrete floor chilled me to the bone. The cold crept up my spine, and suddenly, something hit me from below. I was flung half a meter forward, my face slamming into a glass bin.
“Żurawski, pull yourself together, will you?” I heard behind me.
I stood and turned around. The dwarf was standing exactly where I had been moments ago.
“What... How... What’s going on? I demand an explanation!” I yelled.
He sighed, pulled a live roach from his hair, and popped it into his mouth like a mint. I felt like throwing up.
“Maybe if you found yourself a real job, you wouldn’t have to eat worms and steal from dumpsters!”
“Mr. Żurawski, do you want to get out of here or not?” he asked calmly.
“I... I demand you let me out.”
“I will, but only if you give me something.”
“What do you want?” I hissed.
“You see, I’m not the same... species as you.”
“What?”
“Yes, I come from far away, and I’m not like you. And... pay attention—these doors cannot be opened. Do you understand? I’m different from you. I am not—like you—immortal.”
“I’m immortal? You’ve had enough of whatever’s in that vial.”
“Sir, please. But thank you for reminding me.”
With that, Pigmowski took another gulp of his brown liquid, coughed, and continued.
“So, you’re immortal, whether you realize it or not. I don’t have that luxury. I live longer than you, but when my end comes, it’s final.”
“So, what do you want?” I asked.
“Final—unless I marry a human.”
“You’re some kind of pervert, is that it?” I shouted angrily.
“No, Mr. Żurawski. I wasn’t thinking of you. But if you find me a mortal woman to marry, I’ll let you out.”
“Pff, and where am I supposed to conjure up a woman for you, huh?” I retorted sarcastically.
“You don’t have to. Just think of someone specific and tell me her name.”
“I... what?”
“Trust me. But make sure she’s a stunner, not some toothless, bald hag,” he added with a nod.
I looked at the dwarf suspiciously. I didn’t know anyone who fit his criteria—except maybe Frania herself.
“You know what, Pigmowski? I’ll pass. I’m fine here. I’ll make myself a bed out of some plastic bags and that old mattress over there. Best of luck to you.”
“Ha!” he laughed shortly. “I can’t stop you. But how about this: if you give me a human woman, I’ll give you not just your freedom, but also a suitcase full of gold.”
“How much?”
“Pure gold bars to the brim.”
“Damn it.”
My mind swirled with doubts. Getting out of the dumpster and the gold! I’d be set for life... But what would happen to Frania? After all, I did love her! I glanced at Pigmowski, who was absentmindedly picking some grime off his pants. And that thing was supposed to marry my woman? Those greasy, dirt-encrusted fingers touching her swan-like neck? I grabbed my head in despair.
“Mr. Pigmowski...” I began.
“Yes, monsieur Żurawski?”
“Her name is Frania.”
In an instant, Pigmowski transformed into a chestnut stallion. He snorted, reared up on his front hooves, and charged headfirst into the dumpster’s metal door. The hinges gave way, and the door crashed to the ground with a deafening clang. Already outside, he neighed in my direction:
“Żurawski! Check the bio bin!”
Then, he galloped off into the city.
I located the right container. Leaning over it, I spotted something that looked like the handle of a suitcase sticking out of the refuse. I pulled it out and laid it on the ground. Brushing off some dust, I undid the latches, took a deep breath, and lifted the lid...
...to find a pile of horse shit.