The Rebellious Son: A Fairy Tale -- Part 19

In the morning the boy played the flute for the girl. He looked through the window and found her beautiful face. She was inside sitting at the table looking into a spoon. He sat on the rock and played a soft and lovely tune. While he played for her a wind was called from the north.

The North Wind rushed ahead, it had been waiting. It captured the music of the flute and carried it carefully to the barn where the rats lived.

"Thank you. Thank you!" said the rats.

"Thought you might like this little ditty," said the North Wind.

"We do! We do!"

The North Wind escaped the barn. The music remained hovering over the rats like one heavy ghost.

The music looked at the rats. The rats looked at the music.

“I haven’t been seen in so long,” said the music.

“Where have you been?” asked the rats. “We’ve been waiting.”

The music looked around and yawned. Then she said, “I felt as though I have awoken from a deep slumber. I don’t believe I will sleep again for a very long time.”

The rats erupted with a gleeful noise. “We love you!” sang the rats.

“What a wonderful dark barn,” Music said, her eyes resting on the rafters.

“We will never forsake you!” sang the rats, joyful tears in their eyes.

When it was night Music opened the barn door. The rats scurried out and spread into the village. They were so happy to find men, women, and children in their beds sleeping. Big and little toes stuck out of the sheets.

Rats are known for nibbling, but on this night, since the little lady never came to feed them, their appetites were mighty.

The girl’s face was almost blue from the light of the night. She looked out the window and saw the boy playing the flute. The way he sat on the rock. The way his shirt flopped over his knees. Those knees, she thought, those bony knees. She dragged a chair to the window. She sat and leaned against the pane and looked at the boy.

“What shall your name be?” she said to herself.

The girl opened the window to hear better. When she heard the boy’s flute playing she touched her cheek. Her cheeks were getting red and a rash began to break out over her face and down her neck. She tightened her hair, pulled it back into a bun, and didn't take her eyes off the boy.

In the darkness of the night The North Wind circled the pond. He moved over the waters to the beat of the boy's music. God, how he loved the flute player's song. He gathered speed until he was turned into a whirlwind.

The whirlwind gathered the pond and lifted the pond into the night's sky.

"What fun!" shouted the whirlwind.

Husband watched as the water rose and spun and lifted high over the tree tops. There were little frog legs sticking out here and there.

When the pond found itself over the village the wind loosened its grip and let the pond and all its frogs be thrown on the streets and on the houses and on the church and on the tavern.

The frogs smacked the village. Some broke through roofs, landing in the beds, tables, and rocking chairs.

The frogs who survived enjoyed all the village had to offer. When they found the leak in the tavern they gathered and slurped and silently conversed.

"Not a bad place to settle down," said a frog.

"Don't mind if I do," said another licking up a puddle of beer.

The wasps also loved the flutist sitting on his rock. The music hypnotized them for three days until they were awoken by the voice of their queen.

When she smelled the scent of open sores she sent the young out to partake in the blessing.

"Go and feast in the village!" cried the queen.

"Yipeeee!" cried the excited young wasps.

They headed to the village like one thick gray cloud.

"So much to eat!" cried the young wasps as they gorged themselves on the cuts and gashes of the villagers.

Screams of horror rose and spread forth over the valley, even reaching to Husband on the roof. He plugged his ears with his fingers but it did no good.

When the village was fully enveloped with the plague the boy stopped playing. After all, playing an instrument for three days can be quite exhausting.

He walked to the barn, opened the gate, and went into the darkness. The barn was empty. The boy laid on the hay and closed his eyes.

The girl was also tired, for she too had not slept. She walked to the barn and laid next to the boy. The boy was asleep.

"Now I must name him," she whispered to herself. "Something just right." She held her chin and thought of a name for her one true love. "Your name is Adam. Yes, Adam."

The girl took Adam’s arm and stretched it out so she could rest her head on his shoulder. She lifted her left thigh and rested it on his left thigh. They slept like this for three more days.