The Rebellious Son: A Fairy Tale -- Part 10

The boy rode with the man in the wagon pulled by an old mule. They spoke very little, every so often mentioning the countryside: the forest, the fields, the birds, and the creek that ran soft and soundless alongside the dirt road.

After some time of silence the boy asked the man, “Where are you taking me?”

The wagon driver replied, “To the village. Where you will grow.”

“What will I do there?”

“You will do what you are supposed to do.”

When they got to the village the boy noticed a man wearing a woman’s dress, sitting in a tree, and shouting nonsensically at the people. No one seemed to pay attention to the insane man.

The boy asked, “Who is that man?”

"That’s Jamis," said the wagon driver. "Never been the same since his wife died last month. He wears her dress and shouts at everyone.”

Jamis had wild blue eyes, a scraggly beard (mostly on the neck), and a head of hair like a thorny bush. The dress he wore was frayed badly at the fringes.

When Jamis took sight of the boy he leaped out of the tree and pointed at him, “There!” he shouted, “The wagon carries the curse!”

"Who's he talking about," whispered the boy.

"I think he's pointing at you, son."

Jamis shouted again, “Everyone notice the curse in the wagon! Let’s kill him before the pestilence begins!”

The people ignored him. Just Jamis being Jamis.

"Like I said, son," said the man, "Jamis has lost the love of his life. Try not to let him bother you."

Love of his life? The boy thought about what that could mean.

Jamis kept shouting out his warnings, “He brings pestilence and curses on this land! Do not be deceived by those orphan eyes and that old ratty shirt. Even the devil was an angel in heaven!”

“We miss the old Jamis," said the wagon driver. "He was a good man. His wife was with child when she got sick. The child was too young to survive. Ever since, Jamis has claimed to be the Lord's prophet.”

Jamis could not control his outburst. What he saw was an evil sooty cloud hanging over the wagon with its entrails leading to the top of the boy’s head. Jamis was certain this boy would bring a curse to the village.

Jamis hadn’t slept for days. He stayed outside of his barn sitting at the edge of his wife's grave. His wife, when she was alive, had black hair that she pulled back in a bun and wore a dress that covered every inch of her body save for her tanned arms. Jamis liked to watch her on the farm. He liked seeing her working with the chickens and goats.

At night she would undo her long dark hair in front the bedroom mirror.

She would then brush her hair and talk to him, “Jamis, have you seen how Catherine Ann is beginning to show? She has a little pouch and when she rubs it she can’t help but smile.”

"Curtis must be proud,” he said.

“I want to know what it feels like, Jamis,” she said.

He immediately bent down and put his hand on her knee. He was always looking for an excuse to touch her. "Then let’s have one of them bald fat ones."

She messed with his hair and laughed, “Jamis, why do you love me?”

“Don’t believe I have a choice,” he said.

Memories of his dead wife haunted Jamis. The better the memory the greater the sorrow.

And soon the sorrow turned into self-loathing, and the self-loathing to bitterness, and the bitterness to dread, and finally the dread turned into insanity.