Sitting alongside the beautiful blue shores of the mountain lake Kihiri are three Ylians and their grandfather. Due to the bright blue skies over head each are able to see clear to the bottom where thousands of fish, of hundreds of different colors, swim crisscrossing each other like the threads in a weave. All the work is finished for the morning and each of the boys are very energetic and ready to see the catch which will be pulled in on their long-line.
Grandfather is on the bow of the little two man boat which today held three, bouncing up and down from the waves rocking the stern which is still in the water half way. Overall there is peace in the air and what looks like a great dinner ahead.
Tanir, braeg me mine line ud you, requested grandfather. He never can wait to see what the line produces. Instead he always throws out his hemp string with the golden Devonshire minnow on it. Dus here lure os given a me by the Octarch im-self erty years ago. This being the grandfather’s great story of the golden minnow. Either way it always seemed to bring in two or three extra fish.
Today however a strong wind is blowing from the east, and being on top of the cliffs is making it all the more worse.
Grandpa, will the line be ok with all of this wind, asks one of the young boys.
Yea mine pup it er calm down atter un ile. So the three boys continue to stare deep into the water trying to be the first to see a fish snared. Just then grandfather throws his line into the water and leans back using the sides of the boat as his back and arm rests.
Yus pups know op da merchant op dae mountin, asks the grandfather. Tell us tell us, they all say with extreme enthusiasm.
Well den, says the grandfather as he begins to tap on the boat side to create a rhythm to sing with.
In a long ago tree top in the west banks under the moon
Lived a long stringy merchant who owned a saloon
He developed a strong mug which had never been seen
And he called it the big black cup of lighting.
Well along came a traveler who’s thirst was as vast as a sea
He could of drank dry the tavern at Ojaveda if pleased
We couldn’t be happier that it is you that come here to be
So sit down our captain and let my hostess sever thee.
Well drink er up captain the lighting has been waiting for you
She won’t lead ya asunder but lay guide you more
And if you take down three mugs captain
You’ll wake up outside wet from morn.
Well the traveler knew plenty of the finer brown barrel drums
But even he was scared of the power from this tub
None the less he took it and turned it bottom to top
Next thing ya knows he was dead on the spot
Now help me my lover
Said the man to his help
Take all his money
And the rest in the lake drop
In a long ago tree top in the west banks under the moon
Lived a long stringy merchant who owned a saloon
He developed a strong mug which had never been seen
And he called it the big black cup of lighting.
* * *
Ahh------Ahh------, is the only sound he could make as he lay there. Horns were blowing in every direction and men frantically scurrying this way and that holding their billets and waving them high in the air as they yell out numbers. All is in utter confusion and he just lays there moaning in agonizing pain, but with every moment that passes it begins to feel better. He stops rocking back and forth. He removes his hand from his left side and stares up into the sky at a few cotton like cumulus clouds that slowly drift by as if islands suspended on a great and vast ocean.
* * *
Never knew I could find such a beautiful girl as you, he says. Just then he moves his hands toward a young woman just of the right age to birth children.
I don’t know if this is a good ideal, she say to him with a faint, worried look on her face as she darts her head back and forth from left to right looking to see if anyone is coming.
Don’t worry about a thing, he assured her. No one comes to this place at night except us.
You mean no one is crazy enough to come to this scary stone, she exclaimed back.
Come on now. How long has it been since we met last? Don’t ask me that said the girl and slapped him on the arm. You know good and well we meet here every night to look at the stars. Yes, he said, but a day time is much too long to wait to see you again.
Hush up you foolish man, she says with a giggle.
There the lay together just looking at the sky and the great and vast systems of colorful lights that fill it. I wonder if anyone will ever go past those horrible doors, she asks.
Come on love lets not think of the negative, only the positive, is his well thought of reply. For example, she asked. He knew she liked to think deeply anout things so he set her up with an easy thought. What I wonder is why you can’t see clouds at night?
But you can silly. Look up there. Do you see where the stars disappear into a dark emptiness. Yes, he says back to her gently. Those are clouds. They are clouds that clean the sky both night and day so that we can enjoy them always.
* * *
Uuuuuurrrrrrrrrrrrruuuuuuummmmmmppppppp!
It is the sound a reality flowing back into his mind. Still hearing the sounds of horns blowing around him he gathers his wits long enough to look down at what use to be his arm. There he lays with his head resting on a firm rock placed roughly under the base of his head. Motionless and only capable to move his eyes in one direction being the length of his limp body.
What has happened to me he screams. What has happened to me! But no sound arises from his mouth. Only a strange and enclosed feeling of screaming inside a chest that he is locked in. What is happening to me! His mind tells his legs to move but they just sit dormant and twisted under each other like wet noodles.
Move you blasted legs! Move!
From what he can see his left knee is suspended about three inches off the ground being supported by the inside of his foot which is buried big toe down in the dirt. Since the right legs lies in the outskirts of his peripheral he is only able to come to the conclusion that it is still intact to him.
What is happening to me, he screams inside his head once more, but again his jaw is open with no movement and now has a large quantity of drool dripping in long lines from the crease between his upper and lower lips.
Then a shadow appears in the corner of his eyes. It is moving over him but he can’t turn his head to see what or who it might be.
* * *
A fine day for training ain’t it mate, says a man roughly the same age as the one being questioned.
Sure, sure a good chance for me to take one of your eyes out pup, is his reply.
Both pull out their daggers and begin thrusting and slashing at each other next to a high hillside with the sun reaching a little past the middle of the day.
You’ll have to do better than that aye, is a remark shouted by one of the men as his dagger links with the other and comes to a stop at the handles. Who taught ya to fight ya wanker, your grandma? Just then a strong kick to the knee was felt and a hard thud was produced from where one of their heads hit the solid dry caked ground. His reply was simple, She could tear your stomach open with one of these daggers easier than I, so you best watch out or I’ll sick her on ya.
The two men carried on like this for a few hours. Just fighting back and forth and keeping their minds off of the extreme fatigue being created by the hard effort that both of them put into the fight.
Then the fighting came to a close as they set in the afternoon shade drifting over them by the hill blocking out the sun. It was a good day, said one man with a look of achievement on his face. It sure was replied the other.
* * *
Fin-ish-em! Fin-ish-em! Fin-ish-em! Fin-ish-em! Fin-ish-em! The crowed was roaring with excitement and now the shadow became a man. He just stood there looking down at the young paralyzed man that had challenged him to a duel not but and hour earlier after buying him a well made drink at the tavern.
Why, he wondered? Did this boy think he had what it took to fight him, and what luck for him to fall on the rock to make it that much easier for him? The man’s arm was about ten paces away now still moving and twitching. Located now on his shoulder was a mere mess of blood that seemed to pump out like water from a tap. How should I do it the man though to himself? Ah, what the heck.
The last thing he would see is the large foot of his killer’s right leg being lifted and pressed toward is face at a great velocity. His final thoughts were about that blasted cup of black lighting.
