The Rebellious Son: A Fairy Tale -- Epilogue

The Virgin Mary and the one-legged son walked to the river.

“What shall I do with your basket of berries?” she asked.

“Once they ferment, squeeze out the juice and drink it all in one sitting.”

“Well, I’ll invite the devil’s grandmother to join me. She’s always looking for an excuse to get away. She worries too much, you know?”

When they arrived at the river the one-legged boy climbed the tree and sat on the big branch that reached out over the water. He gathered the rope and tied it to his leg. He leaped off the branch and swung for a while upside down.

When he stopped swinging his mother pulled out her dagger. It was a wonderful old blade, very sharp, glistening in the heat of day.

“It’s always such a hassle, this business,” said the Virgin Mary.

The boy crossed his arms. “Do I look like a bat, mother?”

“Ha!” she cried. “You do look like a sleeping bat. How funny!”

The boy laughed as he stretched his neck, exposing it. The mother placed the blade to the right of the Adam’s apple and made a nice even slice. The blood first emerged as a wide smile and then it poured into the river.

There was no end to the blood of the one-legged son.

The river turned red and spilled out onto the banks and then it moved and spilled further: through the forest, over the green hills, into the streets of the village, heading like a train toward the city.

Jamis, holding his cat, lay drunk in the middle of the street muttering curses to the sky.

When the red waters touched the ends of the prophet’s dress he sobered and stood, clutching his cat, watching the water rise: first to his toes and then to his ankles and then to his knees.

When the village was over taken by the red river the bones of the dead citizens lifted, floated, and began to rattle against each other.

“We will never thirst again!” said the bones. “What song shall we sing?”

"Oh shut up!" said Jamis. He was tired of hearing the voices of the dead.

Underwater, the cat and Jamis heard the dull clanking of bones. They swam with the bones. There was no choice of direction. Their speed was swift, everything heading toward the distant mountains and then further to the city.

At some point the cat and Jamis stopped their swimming efforts, not out of hopelessness, but out of a final release of will.

They rose to the water’s surface, floated on their backs, and looked to the clouds above.

During the night the clouds slid away from the sky. The stars and moon were bright and bold and full of warmth. There was a pleasant breeze touching the trees. The earth was covered in a bloody hue. All was quiet and the creatures in the trees listened intently to the waters below.

A black bird, who shall be nameless, looked at the two figures: a man and his cat floating on their backs – the man’s dress splayed, the cat’s fur darkened – and their peaceful eyes gazing upward. Surrounding the two strangers were the leaping bones of villagers. Bones of all sizes, leaping and singing, jumping out of the blood, splashing, and having a wonderful night out.

Soon a group of childlike fish joined the bones and leaped and sang along. Night birds too, owls mostly, flew low on the water, gliding above, hearing this new song.

And lagging behind, a canoe. In the canoe lay the devil. He was shirtless and his black preacher’s pants were in tatters. The canoe drifted along in the vast redness of the earth. The devil knew not where he was headed. He was fast asleep in fact, exhausted and preparing for what things lay ahead. There he was, the golden-haired devil, riding along the high waters, sleeping, holding fast to a broken paddle.

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THE END