The Golden Acorns - Part III
(Continued from Monday, August 9, 2010)
"I know what I must do," Azar sighed. "I must retrieve the acorns. I don't know how I'll get them, but I've got to try."
Arani nodded, her face shining with excitement in the silver starlight. "I'll go with you," she whispered, giving her brother a bone-cracking squeeze of encouragement.
So they scribbled a note to their mother, telling her not to worry, that they would be home when she returned from work. Then they stole into the early morning. In the east, the indigo of the night had barely begun to lighten into the cool lavender of dawn. The morning star burned brightly, a gleaming silver pearl in the heavens.
They traveled quickly, with the untiring strength of new purpose. They reached the mansion just as the sun's first rays broke over the surface of the earth. The crystals hanging from the eaves caught the light and burst into glorious, incandescent streaks. Taking this for a positive sign, Azar and Arani opened the gate and stepped onto the grounds. No sooner had they entered than a figure separated from one of the shadows and swiftly approached them.
"Back, I see!" bellowed the gardener. "Back to play more tricks on a poor working man, are you?"
"Yes sir. I mean, no sir!" responded Azar, backing away and swallowing hard. "I am back, sir, but not to play tricks. Please, just give me back my acorns," he begged. "They're worthless to anyone but me."
"That they are!" the man hissed. He reached behind him, picked up a sack and threw it at Azar, practically knocking him to the ground. "Take them and begone! A plague upon you and your magician's tricks!"
The twins grabbed up the bag and turned to run, and as they did so, two dark acorns fell unnoticed to the ground.
Finding that the excitement propelled them as though they had wings on their feet, the twins scurried to plant the acorns before the rest of the village awakened. Oddly enough, the planting seemed to go more than twice as fast. Things went so well, in fact, that they had covered almost every site before the bustle of the day began. The milkman had just begun his rounds, bottles chiming in his cart, the street cleaner had just started to sweep up small clouds of dancing dust, the first early workers had emerged, yawning, from their homes.
The very last stop turned out to be at the factory where their mother worked. Counting out their few remaining acorns, the children crouched in the tall grasses that tufted the ground, gray, uniform, spiky clumps that seemed somehow to have been spawned by the factory itself. Azar and Arani watched the dreary line of workers file into the building, their faces blank and devoid of joy, as lifeless as the surrounding plant life that grew in the shadow of the factory. Noxious smells and foul odors assaulted the twins as they worked, causing them to feel even sadder and sorrier for their poor mother, having to bear such vileness and ugliness every day.
As the last of the acorns tumbled from their outstretched hands into the earth, a flash of gold shot out from the hole they had dug. It lingered lovingly on the twins' faces, and then a tiny golden star appeared on the brow of each child. They expected the effect to fade or disappear, but it did not, causing all passers-by that the twins encountered on their way home to wonder.
When they arrived home, hungry from their labor, they went to the garden to see what they might be able to find. In truth, they did not expect much, as it was late in the season and the crops had never thrived, even at the height of midsummer. However, today as they looked, they discovered three globe-shaped yellow squash, an entire lapful of tender sugar peas, and dozens of pearl onions, sweet, crisp, juicy ones.
The sun beamed down, particularly warm and benevolent this fine, fall day, and after sating their hunger, Azar and Arani curled up in the garden and drowsed. They slept exceedingly peacefully, awakening only when they heard their mother's step on the walk. They rushed out to greet her, forgetting all about their new adornments until their mother fell back with a cry when she caught sight of them.
"My children, what is this enchantment I see upon you?" she trembled. "You look as if—as if you have been kissed by the sky."
The twins glanced merrily at one another and laughed. "Perhaps we have, Mother!" they cried, seizing her hands and pulling her along. "Come," said Azar. "Come," said Arani, "come see what has happened in the garden."
Well, the poor woman became ecstatic when she saw what bounty lay in the garden. She ran up and down each row with more energy than Azar or Arani had ever seen her display. When she finished, she grabbed up her children in a fierce embrace, tears streaming from her eyes.
"I knew you were special when you were born," said she. "I don't know what you've done or what remains in store for us, but I feel in my bones that it must be good, whatever it is. Come, we'll fix a wonderful dinner while you tell me what your day has brought."
So they filled their arms with produce from the garden and put dinner to simmer on the stove. Fresh, savory aromas drifted throughout the cottage while light from the sunset kindled the walls into blazing squares of deep orange and smoldering pink. The twins told their mother about everything, about the owl, about the golden acorns, about their dreams and subsequent journeys. When they finished, the hour was late and the cottage had grown cold. Arani rose quietly and built a small fire while Azar and her mother sat in thoughtful silence. Finally their mother spoke.
Having slept the afternoon away, the twins, in fact, felt wide awake. But they retired to bed to whisper and think about the day's events, the radiance from their faces suffusing the room's darkness with the same soft, supernal glow as the starlight outside. Once, when they gazed out their window at the pinpricks of light that sifted through the restless, shifting leaves of the trees, they thought they glimpsed the dark outline of an enormous bird of prey. This excited them even further, and it wasn't until the wee hours of the morning that they dropped off into a sweet, deep slumber. So soundly did they sleep, even the peculiar, persistent crackling that crept stealthily through the night never penetrated their consciousness.
The next morning dawned as any other. Except that the twin's mother discovered the milk cow had suddenly started giving milk again. And great bunches of chard had shot up in the garden overnight, not to mention the fact that some mysterious someone or something had left a large pile of walnuts in the yard.
"Children," said their mother, as she breezed gaily into the cottage, carrying a pail heavy with fresh milk, "I am giving my notice this very day to the factory. I'll not work there another minute! We'll get by somehow. I can sew and I can work the land. And who knows what else I might discover I can do once I give myself a chance?" She laughed a new, silvery, sparkly laugh. "I had the most wonderful dreams last night," she added, her eyes growing tender at the memory.
The twins stared at her in amazement. Their mother had brightened so considerably and transformed so greatly that she was almost unrecognizable. Sensing this, the twins' mother blushed and laughed, entreating them to sit down at the table, for she had a surprise for them. Using up her last bit of flour and magically producing two perfect, snow-white eggs, she then drizzled in a little honey and cooked up some sweet cakes. The house rang with their laughter and merry conversation.
When breakfast was over, all three of them decided to go to the factory. They would make a celebration of it. They planned a picnic for the afternoon, and of course, they would visit the enchanted tree where everything had started.
As they walked along the forest path that led to the road, it sounded as if all the birds were chirping more brightly than usual. The crimson berries crowding the barberry bushes appeared more vibrant than just yesterday. The sunlight, honey gold, absolutely poured through the brilliant autumn foliage. And the air they breathed contained a whiff of some intangible excitement.
Emerging from the forest as they stepped onto the road, they lifted their eyes to the village. The three halted in their tracks and gasped. For the entire village was now aloft in the crowns of gigantic, magnificent oak trees, whose leaves of pure gold turned and flashed in the sun. They hurried as fast as they could to the village, eyes practically popping out of their heads.
When they got closer, they saw that not one house had been disturbed or damaged; all had been lifted in careful entirety. The noisy cacophony of voices that drifted down to the small family as they wandered throughout the massive trunks reminded them of a grove full of blackbirds. Some people peered down anxiously at the ground, others had already begun to build ladders, and some inhabitants were trying to reach the ground with ropes. In fact, several trees possessed natural stairways to the earth in the placement of branches and burls, but it took quite awhile for everyone to calm down and take note of this convenient arrangement.
Very curious, now, as to whether the factory had survived intact, with its sprawling, ungainly form, the family pressed on. As they neared the industrial part of town, they could see that, whatever had happened to the factories, they had not been carried aloft in the tops of trees. Drawing closer, they discovered that the factory buildings had burst into tiny little pieces. The golden oaks had somehow grown up through the insides, sent branches through every nook and cranny, and shattered whole structures. Some machinery had been pushed out of the rubble intact, while other pieces protruded from the stout tree trunks, partially swallowed up.
Giddy with excitement, the family rushed back to the ancient forest in hopes of finding the golden owl. Azar in particular wanted to let the owl know that he had performed his deed, though he had a feeling that the owl probably already knew, and everyone hoped to find him still alive. Perhaps thoughts of what tasty delights might await them on the banquet table spurred their steps even more.
However, when they reached the old giant, no door swung open to greet them. In fact, as they circled the tree in search of it, they found no sign of a door at all—not a seam, not a break appeared in the gnarled, crusty bark. And when they stepped back, hoping to spy the tree house, they saw only a glorious crown of brilliant yellow leaves that tossed tantalizingly in the breeze.
They turned to go, then, to begin their new life, and when they did, the sunlight darkened briefly as something large passed overhead. Shielding their eyes against the sun, they glanced upward, beholding a most beautiful and astonishing creature. It did resemble the owl, yes, but amazingly, it also resembled every other animal of the forest, including a winged man. In its talons, it carried a heavy pouch, which it let fall to the ground a few feet from where they stood. Then, uttering a great, piercing cry that reverberated and resounded throughout their entire beings, it soared away.
The twins scrambled to see what the pouch might hold. Grabbing it up, they spilled the contents onto the soft earth. Rubies, emeralds, fire opals, and moonstones glittered in the cool forest light, the luminous beauty causing all three to catch their breath. They sat in a circle and wept for joy, calling out thanks to any and all creatures who might hover within earshot.
Needless to say, the family never wanted for anything again. The owner of the grand house made from alabaster and marble (a house which had required two whole trees to life off the ground!) suffered from a fear of heights and moved away. The twins and their mother then purchased the house, eager to live amongst the lofty treetops. They turned most of the rooms into airy, open aviaries, where birds could come and go as they pleased, filling the house with their exuberant song. The family lived their years in comfort and great happiness.
As for the village, it turned out that the leaves dangling from the oaks' branches were, in fact, pure gold of the highest quality. The village became renowned as a center for goldsmiths and other artists. Crops and animals tended on the earth below flourished and yielded readily, just as they had in years past. Safe and secure, the ancient forest thrived, too, becoming even more mysterious and inscrutable with the passing years. Reports of strange, exotic birds and animals began to circulate far and wide. Ephemeral lights and will o' the wisps trailed the forest at night.
Then one day, a most inexplicable thing happened. A postman delivering mail from a neighboring community could not locate the village. Every time he came close, he found himself enveloped by a dense golden fog. When he wandered out of it, he would find himself exactly where he started no matter how many times he tried. Other people attempted to find it but could not. Finally, everyone even forgot where it was supposed to be.
And so the rumors spread, persisting even now. Some people say the village and surrounding forest rose up with the clouds one night, and that they are floating high above the earth to this very day. Others say the earth swallowed them up, and that below the earth's crust lies another, enchanted world of golden-leaved oak trees and remarkable half-human birds. Others say (and perhaps there is some truth to it, who can really know?) that this magical, bountiful place dwells in our dreams and is waiting to exist in our very own future, if we can but unlock the secrets of our world with wisdom, vision, and faith.
The End
As I mentioned earlier, I’ll be taking at least a week’s break from my blog in order to let my wrist heal from an overuse injury. Newcomers might enjoy perusing the archives; a directory can be found on this page, as mentioned on my blog portal. Just select and copy the search terms (blog titles) that you’re interested in and enter them as search terms on the Archive page. Hasta luego!
Thursday, August 12, 2010