Shard the Tinkler - a Short Story

Copyright c 2008 Ross H. Carnes, Jr. 

SAMPLE

Shard the Tinkler

      The midnight sky was crystal clear and the moon loomed large and bright. Around it was a blue glowing ring, a double ring. Jessie wore a white lacy robe and the big puffy rabbit slippers that her granddaughter had given her for her birthday. She had found a light crocheted shawl to cover her head and shoulders. Shard and Racket led her out the back door and along the stone path to the bench under the oak tree. Already waiting was a gathering of every Knockturn in the area. Psst and the honored guest Brehan from Austin, stood on the dry, empty birdbath to preside over the ceremony.

      The guest Brehan was a revered and ancient Knockturn named Murmur the Whisper. He was an “Ancient”, one of the first Knockturns, hatched in Atlantis in the year 4545 B.C. by Enoch himself. Having such an important personage present, made this special occasion all the more extraordinary.

      Shard and Racket took their positions beside Jessie on the bench. A hush fell over the gathering. All the usual night noises ceased, even the crickets stopped chirping. Flocks of every kind of bird perched trance-like in the branches of the oak. Moths and butterflies lit on every exposed branch and twig, as thick as the leaves on the tree. It was as if all living things had stopped and gathered here to observe the event.

      Psst raised her arm straight up over her head and in her hand was an object a little smaller than a chicken’s egg. It was an oak gall, but it was larger than any gall that Jessie had seen before. Her children used to gather and play with oak galls. The ball-shaped, woody knots could be found everywhere mixed in with acorns, under the old oak tree. They could be used as marbles; or strung together to make pretend jewelry; or Christmas tree garland. This one looked special. Besides being large, it had a swirling pattern like a Celtic knot, covering most of the surface. On one end, the pattern converged to make a single, pointed tip. Psst brought her hand down and held the curious orb directly before Jessie.

      She smiled at the woman and began to speak in mild tones, but the words were totally foreign to Jessie. From the inflection in the friendly voice and her slow graceful gestures, Jessie knew that there was nothing to fear. A gentle breeze began to cool her cheeks. The speech became slightly faster and louder as Jessie realized that it was no longer a single voice, but many, and from everyone who was gathered, each one in perfect unison. A chill began on her arms and crawled up and down to her spine. Whether it was from the coolness of the air, or the fact that this was obviously becoming a historic moment, she did not know. The rhythm of the words changed and became stronger. In response, fireflies whirled up from the surrounding grass; their light pulsed and made the air seem to surge with life.

      A single flash of blue light brought Jessie’s attention to the hand that was in front of her face. The tip of the gall was unraveling along the Celtic knot pattern to reveal the inside of the orb. The unraveled material wove a larger pattern, as it rose above the crowd and then appeared to dissipate into the illuminated air, like a dissolving thread, absorbing into the canopy of the tree. What remained in the hand of the Brehan was bathed in light. She held it out to Jessie, as if to suggest that the woman take it. Tears welled up in her eyes and emotion caught in her throat. She gently took the delicate form in her hands and saw for the first time the curled up infant, the tiny face hiding behind its tiny arms.

      At first, she was amazed at how miniature the forms of the arms and hands were. Then, she saw that the lower half of the baby looked like an animal, a goat or a sheep. There were wings, or some appendages that might develop into wings on its back, but the head and face looked human, except for the set of horns growing from the forehead. She looked into its eyes and saw bright blue pupils that gazed back with acknowledgement. Staring mesmerized, she was aware of a new energy being given to her, along with a feeling of something that she could not identify… maybe it was inspiration… or maybe it was ambition. Whatever it was, her soul welcomed it and she drew the infant closer to the warmth of her breast.

      The shout that arose from the crowd in attendance was like an explosion. The sound had to have been heard for miles around. Knowing that curious neighbors would soon be investigating, the Knockturns made their congratulations brief. They formed a huge line and each one spoke to Jessie and said variations of “Bless you,” or “May your blessings be many,” as they quickly dispersed. Some hopped away on goat legs; some fluttered on tiny wings; and some leapt silently on cat paws. The Brehan chanted a special blessing and gave Jessie a bundle wrapped in leaves. Psst promised to speak to her at another time when she could answer any questions that Jessie might have. In the meantime, she assured her that she could rely on Shard and Racket for help.

      Suddenly, Jessie was alone in the yard. The only thing that assured her that the proceedings had not been a dream was the sleeping baby Knockturn in her hand. She drew it under her shawl to keep it from the night air.

      From the neighboring yard a voice called to her. It was young Oliver’s father, Ron. “Has there been an accident, Mrs. Thomas?” he asked.

      Jessie chuckled to herself and said, “No… everything is fine. I think a raccoon just knocked over my rain barrel. I’m sorry if it ‘woke you all.”

      Ron looked a little stunned, having fallen out of bed after hearing the earth-shakingly loud sound; he could not help but doubt her explanation. He smiled weakly, “Right,” he said, slowly nodding his head.