Midnight's Song (23 page)

“Some people would say so – but apart
from the ones that are just good lessons and play; just because
something is part of someone’s culture doesn’t mean that it steps
outside of what we know is good.” She stopped for a moment and gave
me a wink. “God made the mouths and minds of man, and he gave them
the imaginations to tell stories that entertained and taught their
values. Though, believing them as true is a completely different
matter.”

“Interesting,” the word slipped from
my lips, my mind still stunned at the array of knowledge that stood
before me.

The mention of the section on folklore
brought me back to my childhood; to a pleasant time when my mother
would actually sit with me and read me stories before bedtime. It
was the only time I could remember truly reading with anyone for
enjoyment, a time of true bonding with her. The memory caused me to
glimmer just a bit. Marie-Katherine had to see it, because she
immediately got up on one of the ladders against the wall and
selected a book for me herself.

“Here,” the nun climbed to
the fifth rung in the ladder that was sitting against the shelf.
She grazed through the titles for a few moments before pulling a
book off of the shelf. “I think that you’d enjoy a good fairy
tale.”

“But Sister, I mean,
you’re obviously not morally opposed – but, aren’t fairy tales just
a bit childish for me right now?” I argued. “What about a book that
can help me? One that can teach me something, prepare me, give me
knowledge of some kind?!”

As I argued, Marie-Katherine pulled a
dense book off of the top shelf and gently wiped the cover with her
hand while she skillfully kept her balance. It was old and dusty,
so dusty that she had to use her breath to blow some of it off of
the cover. When she did, so much of it came loose that it created a
little puffy cloud around her head. After letting out a cough, she
handed it down to me while I stood at the bottom. When I took it
into my hands the cover was still so dusty that it left grey
residue all over my fingers.

“Forget about non-fiction.
Another book about etiquette or protocol won’t prepare you any more
than you already are. It’s time that you gave yourself a break,”
she told me as she climbed down. “Fairy tales can actually teach a
person more than you might think.”

There was a sudden thud in the other
room. It was followed by familiar, swift footsteps. The voices of
three nuns and the face of an exasperated priest standing in the
doorway soon followed.

“Sister Marie-Katherine,” the priest
heaved. He was the first person to arrive in the room, and he
looked as if he was about to puke. “The entire convent has become
ill with the stomach flu…only six of us haven’t been stricken!
Sister Rachel just vomited in front of the children in Mass. You’re
good with the little ones – could you come with the other sisters
and help calm them down while we clean up?”

“Of course, Father. I will
come right away!” Sister Marie-Katherine exclaimed. She looked to
me before she left. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon. Read whatever
you like in the meantime.” She quickly tilted her head toward the
priest. “Perhaps Father Joshua would be willing to allow you to
borrow some if you like?”

It was obvious that Father Joshua was
frantic – yet Marie Katherine wanted me to get into one of these
books so badly that she still took it as an opportunity to press
the man about it. Joshua looked at me for a moment, still sweating
as if he had just seen a ghost. He was obviously more concerned
with Sister Rachel’s mess right now, so he paid me a short glance
and rushed his approval. Apparently this good-natured young woman
had another side to her; because the entire time, I could see
Marie-Katherine trying desperately hard to keep herself from
laughing.

“Yes, yes – it’s fine.
Take whatever you want,” he exasperated. “Now, please come with the
Sisters and I. Mother Aberdeen is trying to keep the children away
from it.”

The Sister was quickly
whisked way to the scene of the crime. Now the room was empty,
quiet. Perhaps you might have even been able to say it was bleak.
The shelves towered high above my head to the point that they
actually began to become somewhat intimidating. Now that I was
alone, it was beginning to feel creepier by the minute.

Suddenly feeling the
heaviness of the object in my hands, I remembered the book that I
had been given and decided that now would be the best time to read
it. Even though I was skeptical that a child’s tale could help or
even entertain me, reading seemed like the only thing that would
keep me from feeling completely uncomfortable in this lonesome,
cavernous hall. Containing tales from my childhood, I almost felt
it could spur some kind of undesired emotional response.

The thought crossed my
mind of climbing up the ladder again and finding a new book – but
when I realized how anxious this dark room was beginning to make me
I quickly abandoned the idea. I took it to a lightened corner of
the room and sat down at a hardwood table. As soon as I set it
down, a family of dust mites attacked my nasal passages.

“Mite olke?”
I mumbled in confusion as I read the dirt-covered
letters. A box of tissue sat on the top of the table that I used to
wipe off the rest of the scum. Once clean, I immediately uncovered
more letters; this time ones that created a sense-making title. I
read it aloud again. “Oh –
Primitive
Folklore.
”

I cracked it open and smiled. This was
the section that the Sister had been telling me about – the one
with the books that were so old that even the Magistrate wasn’t
allowed to wrongfully tamper with them. For some reason, this one
begged my curiosity. It was familiar, a tale that reminded me far
too much of my home. This was just what I feared would happen. Yet,
despite my fears the tale didn’t

“
The Secret Prince,”
the first
heading said. I smiled. This was one I was familiar. We’d even sung
about it – remember? Though, as a member of a culture that was
immersed in oral tradition; I hadn’t actually read it in print
before. I read on:

“
After many years of prophecy, there was a prince born to the
King and Queen of a far off land. The place had once been a
sparkling gem, a place known as the Kingdom of Light. Though, it
had been condemned by a curse to become a place of utter darkness.
The son was the firstborn of twins and the unquestioned heir to the
throne. Shortly after the boys were delivered, the Queen tragically
died [a common ailment which overcame almost all of their queens in
childbirth].

At the death of the Queen,
the entire kingdom mourned. The grief was short-lived, as the
people were accustomed to losing their Queens in this way. They
were desensitized to the darkness of death, for they were used to
the pain of a curse which tormented the Kingdom each day. You see –
these people were all but immortal except for one single curse that
had befallen them –”

“I’m back!” Sister
Marie-Katherine suddenly chimed, bringing my reading to an abrupt
halt. “Have you found what you needed?”

“Yes, I think so.” I
quickly shut the cover of my book, feeling as though I’d been
interrupted in the middle of something sacred. Now I felt myself
hungering to read even more.

“I knew a good story would make you
feel better,” Marie-Katherine winked, seeing the look of apparent
relief on my face that hadn’t been there before.

Alright, so I admit that I
had been proven wrong. This one was definitely a keeper – but
something in me still wanted to be cautious in revealing my
possession of this book to others. Something in me wanted to keep
it close, to keep it safe. I didn’t really know the reason, I just
sensed that there was something more to it now.

When I got home that day, I came in
right as Grandmamma was being wheeled down into the dining room to
eat with the family for the first time in several weeks.

“Child, you’re late.” She starkly
remarked.

“My apologies, Lady Abilene!” Sister
Marie-Katherine hastily responded in my place.

“Oh, hush now – I wasn’t talking to
you. I was talking to my granddaughter,” she waved a hand in the
air. “You’re fine, Sister. My granddaughter must simply learn to do
things with punctuality in mind rather than having her head in the
clouds.”

Grandmamma looked up at
the book that was bundled close to my chest, its title hidden to
avoid embarrassment. Even though it hadn’t seemed quite as heavy
before, the book suddenly became slick and my arms weak under its
weight. I tried to hide it for just a few seconds more. It was
futile. The title toppled onto the floor right at Grandmamma’s
feet.

I fell to my knees and scrambled to
pick it up, reaching out in order to perhaps cover up the title so
that a prying Stella wouldn’t pop into the room and see it. I
didn’t want to have to explain myself, nor did I want them to know
of this book that was a reflection of my innermost thoughts. But,
by the time I had picked it up it was already too late. Grandmamma
had clearly seen it, and since we were already having a very tense
moment I could only hold my breath as I expected her to start
scolding me for engaging in such folly as what was in this
book.

“I’ll leave you to your family
matters,” the Sister nervously nodded when she saw the scene
beginning to brew. She bid us a two second farewell and quickly
scurried away.

A deep breath made its way
out of my chest, and I quickly looked up to see Grandmamma opening
her mouth to speak. I closed my eyes, expecting her to call me out
on having borrowed something as foolish as a book full of fairy
tales at a time such as this. Though, instead she was eyeing
something else:

“
Primitive Folklore?”
She exclaimed
in surprise. “Elissa dear, I didn’t know that you were a lover of
fairy tales! Why would you feel the need to hide this from me? Am I
really that much of an uncultured oaf in your
eyes?”

I froze, having
expected every potentially harsh, scolding, and baffled
response
but
this. At a loss for words, my eyes worked their way into a
confused squint. My mouth came open, trying to form the words of an
explanation as I stood up.

“I was worried…that there would be
disapproval,” I spluttered.

“That’s rather vague. What is it, do
you think I would disapprove of a children’s book?” Grandmamma
cynically solicited, sounding as a parent does when they know that
their child is hiding something underneath it all.

“I was worried that Stella
would ridicule me for it,” I huffed.

“Ah, I see…I suppose
you’re justified in that,” she nodded. “Ha – you’re just like your
mother. She was such a private person, always dreaming but never
wanting to say it out loud…” It was the last and only thing she’d
say about the matter before changing the topic of the conversation.
After a few moments of silence she opened her mouth and began
barking her natural orders. “My word, child! What are you doing
still standing here? Go put that book away and get ready for
dinner! Keep them waiting for the rump roast any longer and the
family may decide to eat
me
instead!
”

I gave her a cursory nod
before rushing upstairs and sliding the book underneath my pillow.
Dinner was near-silent that night, mostly because the family was
their usual selves and my mind had drifted elsewhere. As soon as
dinner was done, I rushed back upstairs and jammed my nose into the
book. I slid the hardback onto the covers and twisted the round
knob on my gas lamp. The room lit with by its soft glow, I began
where I left off:

“
These people were all but immortal except for one, single
curse that had befallen them,”
I started
again at the top of the second page. “
It
was a curse of greed. With this greed came death. These people
would have lived for eternity, but long before this time the First
King made a bargain with the darkness.

He had stumbled into the
mortal realm and come to make alliances with mankind. But, the
leader of these mortals had been long inhabited by a darkness that
only brought destruction. The darkness was an evil, tormenting
greed that had existed among mankind for thousands of years. Until
then, it had only been able to rule the mortal world. Its presence
existed in the Outer Realms, but the First King was a new creation
and did not pay heed to it even when he saw the small evidences of
its existence in his own world.”

I stopped reading for a
moment. This didn’t seem much like the story I had always known at
all! I thought I had known this story inside out, but unless this
was a drastically different variation of it this couldn’t have been
the same, watered-down fairy tale Mum had always told me before
bed. Still, it was intriguing enough to keep me going:

“With ignorance as his one
flaw, he was seduced by the darkness. It tempted the First King
with beautiful women, rich foods, and the promise of unending
power. The First King became intrigued by its workings, and the
darkness in turn began to crave this new world to use as another
stronghold. After it delivered its temptations, the King fell weak;
and at his weakest point, this curse inhabited him.”