Forty-three

 

By now the little boy had aged considerably in years. He looked like an old man.

‘Who are you?’ gasped The Serpent.

‘When the time comes, you will know,’ replied the little boy softly.

‘Get away from me,’ The Serpent hissed and shrank into the corner.

Little Girl and Crow and Balloon also wondered because they had started at the bottom of the stairs with a little boy and here, in the room, he had turned into an old man. What, they wondered, was going on. But then, they remembered what they had been told, that the little boy was not as young as he looked and that he was, in fact, the oldest in the village.

The Serpent knew what they were thinking of, so he shook himself. ‘I am immortal,’ he said, ‘for no one knows exactly how old I am. Ten, fifteen, twenty thousand years. Who knows? How then, can you kill me? I am destined to live on and on, for as long as I wear these sacred beads.’

But, there was an uncertainty in his voice.

His consorts tittered. You could see that they too were clearly nervous, for they had never before seen The Serpent tremble as indeed he had when he saw the old man.

‘It hardly matters,’ said Little Girl, ‘for the skies are without stars, and before this evening is done, the nights here will no longer be starless. This is foretold and this will be done. On the jasmine flowers that I saw my parents lie, I swear this to you.’

‘Such brave words,’ sniggered The Serpent.

‘Yes indeed,’ said Little Girl, ‘for, as you can see, the villagers have all come to see you die!’

The Serpent swished his tail, which stuck out from underneath the chair. His pale lips curled to show his yellow fangs. ‘Before this evening is done, you and your friends and the old fool you have brought with you, will be the wanderers in the dark, just like the other villagers. You will enjoy my hospitality in this never-never place because never will you return. You will never claim your place in the sky, for I swear to you on the blessed beads of this bracelet that you will succumb.’

His consorts sat curled up in each other’s arms. You could see they were worried and yet, wanted to look brave.

‘Ooo!’ said one sarcastically, ‘This little girl is going to kill us! She’s so brave that I shudder in fear.’

‘Yeah,’ said another, ‘me too. Watch how my hand trembles!’ He dramatically let his hand shake vigorously and the consorts all laughed uproariously at the joke.

Snigger, snigger they all went because they did not want to believe the legend.

But then, as they remembered The Serpent’s expression when he saw the old man, they wondered in their heart of hearts, what if…what if, it were indeed true? What if this night ended with a celebration of the sky?

The Serpent sensed the doubts and the lingering fear among his consorts. ‘Do you not know who or what I am?’ he snapped. ‘Well, I will tell you. I am desire and envy, greed and jealousy. I am temptation. I am the never-ending quest for more. I am deception, dishonour and betrayal. I am death and disease. I am everyone.’

He was screaming by now. ‘Fear and respect me,’ he said, ‘for I am The Serpent and the lover of the night and the starless sky. All this and much more, I and my consorts are. We buy wouldbe stars for we are the corrupters of the mind.’

He licked his scorpion tail. ‘Try me, if you don’t believe me,’ he said with a smile and offered his sting.

Seeing no reaction, he snapped his fingers and played his last card. ‘Let the parents of this little wretch appear,’ he said. And lo and behold, Little Girl saw her mother and her father stand before her, as true as they would in flesh and blood.

‘Oh Ma,’ she gasped. And as she stood stunned at the sight, she stretched out her hand to her father.

Her parents stood rooted. In their hearts, they wished dearly to hold their daughter in their arms. They remembered that sad morning when they had died without having said goodbye. They had lingered like shadows and watched their daughter suffer the indignities and the insults. They remembered the gratitude they felt for the old balloon-maker and his wife. Why could they not have died a little later, when she was older and could look after herself, they had wondered. Why now? Why now? As death came and took them, they struggled, never able to let go. And so they remained trapped, destined as it were to gaze at the sky, which stood denied to them. Never to become a star, unless…unless…

‘Hee! Hee!’ laughed The Serpent. ‘Embrace them. They are here, and here to stay. No more going away. No more lonely nights for you. Or indeed, for them.’

Little Girl wept silently. ‘I need you so desperately,’ she said in an anguish cry to her parents. ‘I long to hold you close, to hear my father tell me stories, and to once again smell the jasmine flowers in Ma’s hair, to see you both together, to know you are with me and I with you.’

Her parents did not speak but she could swear that she could clearly hear them, ‘Music that cannot be forgotten.’ It was like a voice deep inside her. ‘Stories of far-off lands, of bravery and of friendship. Of letting go and never, never once forgetting the beauty of the stars in the sky.’

Someone had spoken to her. Of that she was certain. Who? Who? she asked herself. She knew the voice. It reminded her of the nights under the jasmine-covered trees in the forest. Was it her father? Her mother? How could they? They were dead. They were gone. She was left alone after that awful morning. If they were back…if they were here…they could once again be together. The good times would return. Stories, music, the jasmine, the safety of her father’s arms and the comfort of her mother’s smile. Ma would come back, as also, her dear, dear father.

She cried in anguish, ‘Who cares about the stars in the sky? The three of us would be together again and that is all that matters.’

‘I agree,’ said The Serpent, his voice greasily soft, ‘go and hold them close. Enjoy the moment. And, I promise you unimaginable power.’

‘Be careful,’ muttered Crow to Little Girl.

The old man standing next to her whispered, ‘Remember what The Master said. Letting go is the key. Death is part of life. As we must all live, so must we all die. Some, sadly, must die sooner than others. Let your parents go on their journey and join the sky. You have the sound of the flute and the fragrance of the jasmine. Never forget that no one can take that away from you. Remember your mission!’

Little Girl turned to look at the old man and then she silently nodded as she held the flute tightly. She wept and knelt on the floor, as she said to her parents in an anguished cry, ‘Much as I would love to hold you, your journey must begin. May the sky be better with your light! Go on your way for you will always be mine, as I will always be yours, wherever that might be!’

Her parents had tears in their eyes but these were tears of joy. Their child had the courage to let go what her heart so dearly desired. They were indeed, in the presence of The Awaited One.

They closed their eyes and folded their hands in silent prayer as they began their ascent. Amazing fireworks lit the room, and then, in a flash, two bright stars appeared in the sky!

Little Girl smiled through her tears for she had finally learnt to let go.

Her parents were the first two stars in the dark sky. Where they had once stood, now remained a handful of glittering stardust.

Then, the village exploded in a burst of colours and of joy. Bright shafts of light flew like meteors from the village to the sky and became brilliant stars. Hundreds, thousands of them. The sky was a magic of sparkling light. Little Girl wondered if The Master too had become a star.

The Serpent screamed, for this he knew was the beginning of the end. He could clearly see the villagers from the world of the living about to reach the castle. The un-dead had already started storming The Serpent Hill and now went off in a blaze of light as stars. In desperation, The Serpent turned to the bracelet of beads around his wrist.

‘This bracelet,’ he said, taking it off his wrist and showing it to them, ‘is life and death for me. With these sacred beads, I hold the power of the dead. It is, you may well remember, from the hands of a dead man.’ He laughed and kissed the beads. ‘You and your stupid bird are damned! For I...I enjoy eternal life!’

The Serpent waved his hand.

But as he did so, the bracelet slipped and fell on the floor. The Serpent hurriedly bent to pick it up but Crow was quicker.

In a flash, his paw stretched the length of the room and with a giant roar, the bracelet was in his clasp. The Serpent shrank, for he remembered how painful the talons were.

The old man walked up to Crow and took the bracelet. He looked at it closely, as if he were inspecting the beads. Then, he put it around his wrist and said, ‘At last!’

The Serpent was aghast. That voice, where had he heard it before? Who was this ghastly apparition standing before him? It scared him. His consorts slunk into the shadows, which were now fast disappearing. Even the glow-worms seemed to be giving more light. Or, was it from the stars in the sky?

‘Who are you?’ he asked the old man, half knowing the answer.

‘I am your father,’ replied the old man, ‘returned from the dead to claim what is his own. These sacred beads were never yours. Never ever.’

‘It cannot be,’ screamed The Serpent. ‘You lived a good and decent life. You had no regrets when you died. You were damned to become a star!’

The old man smiled sadly. ‘I had only one regret, my son, and it was you. You never understood me, not even after I died. And, I could never let go of that, or that you stole the bracelet!’

The Serpent trembled. He could see his consorts collapse, in soundless screams into heaps of serpent dust. What strange and powerful magic this was, he could not understand. He decided that if this were the end, he would pass on his poison through his sting. He swished his tail.

But, he was aghast.

There was no tail!

He panicked and looked at the crystal table to see his reflection. Where were his snake hoods? Where indeed the scales? Why did he look like the young boy he was when his father died? What was happening to him?

He cried in rage and anger, ‘Do not deny me, Father, for I am your flesh and blood.’

‘I do not deny you,’ the old man said, ‘but I condemn you to a life on earth for generations to come. You will remain in the shadows, forever lost, forever damned.’

He looked at Little Girl and Crow and Balloon and said, ‘I must go now and join the other villagers. The battle is over. On the rock by the river, The Master has left behind his flute. Take it along and return to the land of the living. But kill The Serpent before you leave. You have already destroyed him!’

Little Girl and Crow saw the old man kiss the beads. A strange and powerful light filled the room as the bracelet slowly vanished from his hand. Then he smiled at them as he disappeared into the sky in a flash of cosmic light.

The Serpent shook in fear and shrank into the few shadows that remained.

Little Girl picked up a handful of stardust that glittered on the floor and blew it on The Serpent. ‘Go now, you unfortunate one,’ she said, ‘for it is done.’

The dust burnt him to ashes and his screams carried into the night. All that remained was serpent dust.

Little Girl and Crow and Balloon had not waited to see what happened to The Serpent for they had already started their journey back to the river to meet the old balloon-maker and the other villagers.

She looked back as she heard the rumble of thunder and saw lightning strike again and again and again. The Serpent Hill was on fire. The castle crumbled to dust.

Wind kissed their cheeks and said with a mischievous smile, ‘Lightning could not let go!’