Here's a story for you. The only "fairy tale" that ever has a chance of coming true.
A weary traveler I was. The sun had long since departed behind the far-off mountains, leaving barely a trace of the road but some dust, that twinkled a bit in the light of the stars. Not long was I on that road when I spied an orange glow, and smelled the smoke of beef-ribs a-cooking. Road weary, and not a little lonely, I paced my horse(a dapple gray) slowly up to the camp. There sat a lone man, but next to his mule there was a small cart loaded with wares. I took him to be some kind of a trader or tinker.
"Kind trader," said I ,"would you be so kind as to welcome a weary traveler to your camp. I've not much to offer but some cold hard biscuits."
The old man looked up at me from under the wide brim of his hat, and the growth of his eyebrows, and, perceiving me not to be a threat, motioned to me to sit.
"Leave your piece on your horse, young sir." He said, "and maybe I'll oblige you a piece o' here rib and some sauce for some biscuits."
As I sat down I knew he continued to stare me up and down. One of his eyes was conspicuously near-shut, like he'd taken his share of beatings, I could see that was the eye that was moving. The other was open, but must have been false, for it didn't move at all.
"I must tell you young sir...." He paused, as if to catch his breath and think.
"Before ye accept me vittles, ye must agree to one thing."
"What's that," I said, eager to get something to eat.
"I've a tale to tell, young sir, and you've got to agree to listen right smartly to it." He said.
I agreed wholeheartedly as my stomach was prodding me, I thought the food must be very good to warrant all of these preliminary negotiations.
We sat in silence for a while, probably about five minutes, but it seemed like twenty. He cooked, and I looked him over from head to toe, for I could make him out pretty well in the orange glow of the fire. He looked to be only about five feet tall, and was dressed in a long leather coat that seemed to be wrapped all about him except for his feet. They were covered by boots, except for one big toe on his left foot. It hat just begun to poke through the space where the hide folds down into the sole. The firelight made him look quite mysterious, and it lent a shiny hint of life to the leather that swaddled him. His head was bare and I could just tell there was an island of hair that swung around his head from temple to temple, just above the ears. The pate of his head was quite bald.
He stuck his finger in the grimy pot hanging above the fire from a tripod, and precariously attached to a rusty wire hook. Slowly he began to dish out a bit of the "sauce", that looked like slime, into a solid old brown crockery dish and hand it over to me, with a few ribs wallowing in the muck.
"Hand over some of them biscuits young-un." He said in his throaty voice.
"Yes, Sir!" I replied heartily and quickly turned over about five biscuits. I notice his own plate and saw that my portion was about twice as big as his. He took the biscuits and stored them away somewhere in his cart.
I don't know if it was my hunger, or some potion the old man had poured into that food, but that ugly looking mash was the best stuff I'd ever tasted. When I mashed up my biscuits in some of the juice, a brown gooey mess, even they tasted OK. Then after we both had a little water, He began to speak.
"It really hasn't been that long now since the end. It happened, I'd say, maybe twenty years ago, but it changed every day of my life since." He began, almost as if he was talking to a whole group of people, but every once in a while he'd look me straight in the eye until I had to look away. "I would never have believed a man could come back from the dead, but now I see it as if I'd been there myself. And when I close my eyes, I can see him stand-in there with outstretched arms, ready to lift me up when my legs get weary.
It started when I was about 21 and I would have these visions. Not just during my dreams, but in the daytime too. I had visions of storm clouds gathering, and lightning and rain coming down, then in my vision I'd see a garden springing up, full of flowers ad fruits and a river. And there was one who was like a man in the garden, but he was something more than that, you could tell this man was somehow stronger, or more real and solid in some way, than any one you have ever seen, and yet there were scars on his wrists, very nasty scars, they were obvious. And he smiled and laughed as he stood in the garden, and when he laughed he threw his head back and smiled. His teeth shined bright white as he opened up his mouth and throat and his whole body seemed to shake and give off a light. "
He stopped for a minute to caress his palms with his thumbs and I could see the deep carved lines in his fingers from the shadows of the fire.
"Not long ago there was a child born under a great sign, the sign of a star, in the land of the Jews. If you listen to and believe in his story, you'll receive riches of the kind a man could never imagine. This child was born a-lowly with the animals, grew up a carpenter, but he was a rare boy, for he had learning to astound the teachers in the Jewish synagogues. This boy was taught by God himself, they said. When he grew older and left his parents he'd go around the countryside with a ragged group of friends like his students, and he prayed for the sick to be well and they were, he prayed for the dead to rise and they did. When I first saw him I was working at my Grandmother's at the time, and I knew something was going to happen. Then one day this man came into town as I was bringing a load of dates to the city. He was incredible, standing up in the street square, talking about eternal life and love and God. I always thought it was strange of our family, as Jews, to keep around the idols that we had, so I really wanted to listen to this man. I worked my way right up to the front of the crowd. Well, he kept looking at me. I turned my eyes right toward the ground. I felt like he could see right through me.
Well, this young man claimed to be the Son of God and the priests and the teacher didn't take too kindly to that. So they threw him in jail. The only thing he was guilty of was healing sick people, he never did harm to nobody. Well, these priests turned him over to the Roman's, who were governing at the time. They really didn't want to have anything to do with this religious crap, so they asked the people what they should do. They took a vote. Well, the people wanted to see blood, they yelled to have him killed. The people were a bit pushy, so they hung him on a tree until the blood and the life ran out of him and he died. Well, they laid him in a tomb, in a garden, and rolled a huge stone in front of it. Well , two days later one of his followers went down there and he was gone. They told me it was just after sunrise and the tome was a clean hard stone, hewn out of a hillside cave. An angel told them he was risen, an angel in brilliant white. The man who appeared to them at first they didn't even recognize. They believed he was dead. Then his followers kept seeing him later on and he would come and walk and talk with them. He walked on the grass just as you and me, and even though he said he would rise again, nobody believed him then, especially not myself. I'll tell you son, I was there one day with these men, these followers of his, 'cause I'm friends with them you-see, and we were sitting there in this room and this man appeared out of nowhere. He never opened the door, and I saw the scars deep in his wrists where they nailed him to that tree. and he looked at me and he called me by my name, and asked me if I believed on him now. I said, "Lord! Yes I believe." And he told me I was forgiven of the bad I'd done and he touched me on the shoulder. I was shaking before he touched me, but I became still as soon as he did. Then he laughed just like my dream of the garden and hugged me. There wasn't no light coming off him like some might say, but when he touched me my heart felt like it was full of light, and my sore feet felt like dancing. I felt happy like I'd never felt in my life. I could smell his bead and his clothes, and they smelled like honey and bread. I'll always believe in him and everything he said, no matter what should come to me, for he showed me a kindness, no man has ever done, for I am of a low birth and no priest ever paid attention to anyone such as me. But I believe that he's God's only Son and I know he has.
I had my head down against the log I was sitting on and fell asleep watching the red-orange embers of the fire flicker and fade. When I woke the sun was rising hot and yellow over the far distant peaks. There was no trace of the old man and his cart, but I remembered his story. I felt like something special had been given to me like a flickering diamond. I felt strangely well, and strangely happy.
A flat minor. La de da de da.
Every little thing she does is magic.
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