Chapter 3: The Feast
The
palace of Ukulele Town was a majestic sight. It was a huge assortment of
asymmetric minarets, each one coloured differently, but as brightly as humanly
possible. The central structure was, however, unlike the rest of the city. Just
like the wall, the central palace was a plain yellowish white of sandstone and
stood with a majestic blue dome as its pinnacle. Even from a great distance, I
could tell it was intricately fashioned with mosaics of deep sky blue and
violet pictographs.
I
stared at this marvel of a fortress following Naomi’s finger, when suddenly
Yasmim’s voice brought me back to reality. “O! The Feast! Of course! We’re all
invited to that! What a silly notion, being invited to the feast! O! Some
people are so strange!”
I
looked behind me at Yasmim and Naomi, “We’re all invited? Really?”
“Yes!
Of course. Do you want to go to the feast?! It is just the loveliest thing. At
yesterday’s, we had just the juiciest pears, I swear….”
“Yesterday’s?
What do you mean yesterday’s?” Naomi interrupted.
“Why
of course! Here in Ukulele Town there is a grand feast every day. Unlike where
I come from….” We did not hear the next few words for as Yasmim spoke, a
marching band came from across the corner and filled the avenue with the sound
of a charismatic marching tune. Whatever she said the two of us couldn’t hear.
“…and it’s just the nicest thing, with dancing
and singing, but the feast’s here as just as good.”
We both looked at her confusedly, for a
minute and then as she stared back, until she kept on speaking, “We should go
now if we want to go to the feast. It starts as soon as the sun sets.”
She pointed at the horizon behind her and
I noticed for the first time that the sun was falling and the evening sky was
already turning reddish with the twilight.
Yasmim began to walk us forward, dragging
us by our hands and smiling. The plaza we were in was partially quiet, but as
soon as we passed a corner, the entire street came to life.
“Is that the place where they have the
feast?” Naomi pointed up towards the blue domed palace.
“O!” Yasmim yelled back, over the sound
of several quires who were also riding around on unicycles and attempting to
dance ballet, “Yes! That is Lavinia’s Palace! Isn’t it beautiful, just look at
it shine!!”
Paper airplanes from the balconies and
the open windows fell and flew in circles around the two, “It does, it really
does!” Naomi continued. Three men were walking behind us with paint brushes,
and buckets of black paint, driving to outline their walking shadows.
“But who is this Lavinia?” I felt the need to interject.
“Lavinia! Is Lavinia! You would count
them: One Lavinia and then two Lavinia and then stop because there are only
two!” Yasmim continued to yell.
“Two?” Naomi asked.
“O! Yes, well, who doesn’t want to name
their kid after the queen? So the nice Georevsky family named their lovely
daughter Lavinia. But she confused a lot of people, so they never did it again.
And the second Lavinia is just as happy as the first. She’s an accountant now.”
“O!”
“Yes.”
Yasmim, who was walking at an amazingly
fast pace, picked up her guitar from around her neck and began to strum wildly.
“Come on guys! Let’s improvise!”
She stared at us, anticipating whatever
song we could come up with.
“Wait a minute wait a minute!” I tried to
keep up with her as her smile only grew and grew, “I mean, I get that this is
Ukulele Town… but where are we?” I motioned towards our surroundings.
She did not flinch, or answer, she only
played faster and faster. She quickened her pace as well, until we were nearly
running alongside her.
“Come on guys! A Song! Find a song! We
need to find the song!” She yelled at us, as she simply went faster and faster.
“What song?! What are you talking about?”
Naomi now asked, barely able to keep up.
“The song! The SONG!”
“What are you talking about?!” we sang
back in unison.
“The SONG! The SOOOO….”
Before she could yell at us the word song again, she suddenly slammed into
some man, who was casually walking in the opposite direction. Naomi and I, who
were only a few passes behind, also tripped on the flailing of falling limbs.
We tumbled, skinning knees, doing fantastic somersaults.
I lost sight of Naomi and Yasmim, as I
found myself flailing in the air and crashing against a very enthusiastic
trombone player who also seemed to be break dancing. The two of us doubled on
the floor and I heard the crashing of brass on the sandstone brick streets.
At first, all I could feel was confusing
and buzzing of incoherent sound. But then, first I felt the sharp pain in my
skinned limbs and then the tugging of a few helpful hands. Raising my head, I
soon saw a few, well dressed kind gentlemen trying to aid me. I allowed myself
to be lifted up and dusted off by a few random toddlers who then ran off
playing various sizes of pan flutes.
Turning around, I found the trombone
players, examining his trombone. Concerned I may have broken his instrument, I
walked over to him. However, the man, who was young, simply looked up gave me a
thumbs up indicating that he was okay, with an extremely enthusiastic smile.
Around us about 30 people had gathered
around who began to cheer and clap ecstatically, at the undamaged musician.
Looking around, I found Naomi had crashed
into the canvas of some artist, who was now crying and cursing Naomi in some
unknown language. Naomi covered in green and yellow paint was backing up
apologizing incessantly.
“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry! Really, I’m
so sorry.” Turning around, she saw me and walked over, looking a little dazed.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, I think so. You?”
“Yeah, pretty much.” Then she let out a
small giggle and she looked over behind my shoulder.
I followed her gaze and saw that Yasmim
was over near the sidewalk, looking very serious at some pile on the ground. We
walked over and discovered that the pile was in fact, to our dismay, Yasmim’s
guitar and her cracked and broken glasses. Standing next to her was the man
whom she had crashed into. He was hooded in a long black cloak and was very
ominous, almost like the grim reaper.
Getting closer we realized we couldn’t
even see his face. However his voice was accented and rather high pitched,
sounding quite kind, unlike his figure. “ I’m very very sorry. I didn’t see
you.”
Yasmim, who was kneeling next to her
annihilated guitar and glasses, looked up to the man, and squinted, “It’s okay,
it’s okay. I really shouldn’t have been running so fast.” She seemed ready to cry.
I approached Yasmim and, with a hand on
her shoulder, told her, “We’re very sorry. It’s a tragedy.”
She stood up and answered, “I know.”
I turned around to examine the man. The
opening of the cloak which should have revealed the man’s face was completely
dark. He put his hand into the hole, as if he was thinking.
“I am very sorry! Really! I didn’t see
you!” he apologized again.
Yasmim, now walking away from the scene,
called back, “It’s okay. I mean, you can’t have a guitar forever. I had that
one for nearly 10 years. It was my first. And my glasses, well really, I mean
who needs to see?” As she finished I noticed a tear roll down her eye.
The man, raising his hand to his face
called, out, “Really! O NO! I’m so sorry!”
Then the man, reaching into his cloak,
called back to Yasmim, “But I can make it up to you.”
Then as if by magic, the man pulled out a
brand new, black guitar. The beautiful guitar, intricate and shiny, he handed
over to Yasmim who gasped in disbelief.
“O! It’s beautiful!” She thanked with a
nod and then began to play the tune from before, slowly.
The sound from the guitar was as
beautiful as it looked and sounded just as pure.
The man then reached into the hole in his
cloak for his face and took out a pair of glasses; slightly different to those
Yasmim had worn.
Then he gently put them on Yasmim and
said, “For you.”
Yasmim, almost crying called back, “Thank
you so much!” And continued to play.
The man, still concealed, then reached in
his magical cloak and pulled out yet another guitar, this one white and as
beautiful as the first and began to play the same tune.
Yasmim, smiling again, asked the man, “Do
you want to improvise!?”
The man, in his high pitched happy
replied, “Yeah!!” In a way, I could tell he was smiling as well.
Then suddenly the two ran off, playing
the tune faster and faster, till they disappeared around the corner. The last
words I heard being, “Where’s the song!!?”
And the man’s voice, “This way, this
way!!”
Naomi and I only stared in confusion as
to what had just happened, as the crowd which had gathered around us to see the
spectacle dissipated back into the streets ordinary chaos.
Finally, I looked at Naomi and asked, “So
what should we do now?”
She, as if fascinated at the question,
looked around excitedly, “I don’t know, there’s so much we could do!”
Now, excited as well, I looked around me
at the rivers of paint, now distinctly red, at the pages of written poems
beneath me and apparently various golden discarded instruments. And even now
discarded, one very large, double wide keyed piano, tattooed in white across
the top, saying, “Somewhere someone needs a lift.”
Then I looked up and saw the brilliantly
blue palace. “There!” I pointed, “Let’s go there!”
Naomi looked up and smiled, “The Feast!
O! Let’s go to the feast! That sounds like fun.”
“I wonder what time it begins?”
Inquisitive, I walked over smiling to the nearest, pedestrian ,who gave a smile
in return. He was passionately playing the cello, almost impossibly fast, but
put his instrument down as I approached.
“Excuse me, but could you tell me what
time the feast is?”
About every person passing by behind him
suddenly looked down at their watches and yelled in surprise, “Right now!”
Then they all scrambled off in different
directions in a hurry.
The man I had addressed looked at me
without moving and smiled slightly, “Well young man, I believe the feast is
beginning at this very moment.”
Surprised, I looked around, “Really sir?
Now, what time does a feast here regularly start?”
“About now. I believe.” The man did not
lower his smile.
“Well, thank you,” I made to leave but
delayed, curious, and asked the man, “Are you not going?”
“No.” He answered, already half lifting
his cello to play again, “I never do.”
“Why not?”
He looked into my eyes and began to play
a tune I barely recognized, “No, I’d rather not. Best to stay here.”
He continued to play, softly and gently.
“Why?” I asked.
“There is something.” He spoke between strokes
of the arch, “I believe worth waiting for.”
Then he closed his eyes and played on,
with the same, gentle, calm smile as before.
I walked back to Naomi and, as excited as
before, I exclaimed, “The Feast is now!”
Ecstatic, the two of us began to walk
off, towards the obvious path, up the avenue towards the elevation where the
palace stood gracefully.
As we walked slowly the sunshine and the
heat waned and the day dipped into the afternoon. It must have taken us about
30 minutes up the street, before we noticed the first melodies sipping from the
vast structure up ahead. It was a soft, beautiful tune, which flooded the
streets. The street, now empty, was completely silent, except for this one
melody. They had all suddenly been deserted by all their patrons, leaving
behind unfinished canvases, unused instruments and discarded papers and
clothes.
Upon hearing the sound, I looked at Naomi
and called out, “Come on!”
We quickened our pace to a jog then a run
then a dash as the music got louder and louder till we could quite literally
hear each resonant instrument. And then we were at the door of the humongous
palace. The palace, atop the tallest height of Ukulele Town, presented
spectacle view of the entire city and its lights. The licking flames of the
entire city shined like orange stars from up above. By now, of course, the
night had already settled and the entire horizon was dark and beautiful.
The Palace, however, was lit and out of
every oval window glowed the shining lights within. The entire building
illuminated like a full moon which shines in reddish light. Naomi and I stood
before the door, which was completely open. The doors, probably 30 feet tall,
were engraved of copper and bronze. The entire doorway was so bright I couldn’t
see what was within; all I could see was some moving shadows and the sweet
sound of the orchestra which played within.
Naomi next to me mumbled, “Wow.”
I nodded and the two of us began to walk
forward into the light. I was forced to close my eyes.
Once I felt that the bright light was not
as intense, I opened them again and beheld a home unbelievably majestic.
Every wall was covered in colour and
beautiful murals. On one side they could be as elegant and intricate as the
Mona Lisa and the Sistine Chapel and on the other they could appear to be drawn
almost as if by a four year old.
Every
wall was covered in thousands of torches and the entire roof was composed of
one single massive dome, which was covered in the beautiful mosaic of blue and
violet seen from outside. The mosaic was of violet coloured words in a language
I could not read. It twisted into a spiral, till at the centre of the dome the
words were eaten by a depicted dragon with green scales.
The
rest of the room was covered in beautiful stained glass windows of a rainbow of
colours, depicting different poses of a single woman. Examining the windows I
came to understand that this must have been Queen Lavinia.
In
each window she appeared in a different pose. In some she was slaying a dragon
and smiling, in some she was picking carrots and smiling and in some she was
walking in the desert crying, but smiling. And in one she was playing one very
large, double wide keyed piano. And smiling.
The
entire palace opened up into one massive foyer, beautifully lit. The entire
space was covered with attendees and visitors, each silent and elegantly
dressed. They all had either a brush or an instrument or a pen in hand, but
they kept this to one side, static.
They
all stood, almost completely silent, except for occasional excited whispers
amongst themselves. Some occasionally moved to the music, but all of them
looked up towards a particularly well lit balcony, which was in the spot light.
A massive spiral staircase led to the ledge, which was the focus of everyone’s
attention. To the side was a slight platform were the orchestra performed its
beautiful chorus of melody.
I
took in the amazing scene with awe, when I heard Naomi’s voice, “There she is!”
I
looked and saw where she was pointing. It was the old, bent over woman, dressed
in rags. She stuck out quite well from the masses of people, and she was
walking slowly.
Suddenly
Naomi ran off in her direction.
Surprised
I tried to stop her, “Naomi! Wait!” but she was gone without a care.
Trying
to follow her, I realized the old woman was walking up the stairs which led to
the balcony. Frightened we would make a scene, I called out again and again for
her to come back, “Naomi! Wait, wait Naomi!”
However
she did not hear, and pursued the old woman till the three of us were at the
top of the balcony, the two of us gasping.
I
touched Naomi’s shoulder, surprising her, “Naomi! What are you doing? Wait.”
She
looked back then around, realizing where exactly she was standing and blushed,
“O! Oops.”
Then the old woman, who turned to look at us,
and stared at us. Intimidated, I almost whispered, “We’re sorry miss…”
She
looked at us, and then she raised her hood to reveal a terribly young face, a
beautiful face with a twisted amused smile and brownish twisted, matted hair,
long and in several rastas and braids.
She
smiled at us for a second, then opening her eyes wide addressed the crowd
shedding the rest of her bland ordinary grey clothes for a colourful rainbow
dress. Then she screamed at the top of her lungs a chicken scream as if a
rooster announcing the morning and yelled to the crowd, “O MY GOD!”
And
then she started dancing the chicken dance on the balcony.
The
entire crowd beneath cheered in appraisal and enthusiasm, clapping and
whistling. And then I realized, looking at one of the stained windows depicting
Queen Lavinia playing a Ukulele and smiling, that the woman dancing on the
balcony was none other than the first Lavinia.
Queen
Lavinia, of Ukulele Town.
Chapter 4: A
Quest
The two of us just stood there, our mouths open,
aghast. As the crowd cheered, we simply stood on the balcony with the Queen of
the city, unmoving. She began to dance around us, letting out an amused laugh.
Then, grabbing my arm, she began to dance with me, doing some sort of waltz,
which I could not follow.
I
tried to speak over the ecstatic speaking, “Um… hello….”
She
let me go and stopped, staring at me, her face suddenly serious and her stare
fixed on us both. “Who are you?” She sounded fake sarcastic and disgusted at
us, then she let out another laugh and began to dance around us again.
Naomi
attempted to answer calling out, “My name is Naomi, and this is Amir.”
She
smiled and gave us something like a little curtsy, “Naomi is a beautiful name!
But Amir? What kind of name is that?”
She looked me up and down and then
let out that laugh again.
I
shrugged and then asked, “What kind of name is Lavinia?”
“Hey!!”
She pretended to be hurt, then she laughed her laugh again, grabbing Naomi to
dance the same way she had with me.
Her
laughter, I figured, was like the happy sound of a dog panting and shaking its
tail, as if it couldn’t contain its excitement.
As
I watched her dance with Naomi I realized how confused I really was, so, raising
my voice over the music coming from the orchestra beneath, I asked, “Are you
the one who invited us here?”
As
soon as I had asked the question, Naomi flew out of her grasp into my arms, and
she looked toward the massive crowd beneath. She yelled at the top of her
voice, “Everybody dance!”
Then
she waved to the orchestra beneath and there was a sudden silence. Then a very
long instant later a tremendously loud song shook the entire building, the
sound of some swing song and the sound of about ten thousand feet dancing
incessantly. The entire crowd began to swivel and dance.
Lavinia
then turned to us, smiling as always, and grabbed our arms leading us to the
stairs. Walking down slowly, she bobbed her head from side to side with the
music, laughing and enjoying the music.
She
turned to me and in a slightly more serious voiced addressed me, “Amir, what
kind of music do you like?”
Without
even time to answer, she continued, “I like either the dancing kind you know,
the kind that moves your feet, almost like the current of a river, or like a
very strong wind at the top of the mountain. You know the kind that goes,
Liddle Liddle Leee! But I also like the kind of music that’s like, O! What a
lovely whisper.”
She
looked in my direction, opening her eyes wide, as if expecting some sort of
answer and reaction. I looked both ways, then in an uncertain voice answered,
“What… does that sound like?”
“WELLL!”
She continued suddenly in an exaggerated voice, “They sound like the water
itself, and they move you, but not like dancing, no.”
How
do they move you?” Naomi had leaned in, legitimately interested in what she was
saying.
In
a loud voice, Lavinia looked over at Naomi and declared almost jokingly,
“PLEASE, I am trying to have a conversation! Geez!”
Then
she looked back at me and continued, “Some people, am I right? Now, it does
move you, like dancing, but not dancing. No, you move, but in here." She
made to point at my chest, but then just poked my nose and then laughed.
Then
she looked up at the roof and, stopping completely, the three of us almost at
the bottom of the stairs, and talked, as if to herself, “And it sounds… it
sounds… it sounds…”
She
looked back at me with a smile and finished, “Like this!!!”
Then
she clapped her hands and in an unnaturally loud voice for how gently it
sounded, called out, “RAQEM! RAQEM MY DEAR!”
There
was suddenly a deep silence as the entire ball room was silenced by the sound
of the call. The dancing stopped, the music stopped and even the talking
stopped. Naomi peered over the rail of the stairs, at the now still crowd and
muttered, “Wow.”
The
entire crowd was still smiling, waiting, almost anxiously.
The
lonesome sound of footsteps approached as a figure emerged from a door parallel
to the floor, beneath the balcony. The sound of footsteps on the marble floor,
till a man came into view. With slightly dark skin and large calm eyes, he wore
very fancy attire, a black suit with a rose and everything. He was the only
person I had seen yet, who was dressed rather normally.
Approaching
Lavinia he asked in a calm, suave voice, “Yesss?”
Lavinia
smiled at him and said, “Hi.” Almost laughing again she then added, “Raqem,
could you please bring out the sacred Ukulele from the catacombs? I think it’s
needed.”
Raqem,
expressionless, stood still, looked at her, with eyes almost conveying
annoyance and asked, “Really?”
“Why
not?” she asked back, now letting go of a slight giggle.
“Well,
Madame, this is the fifth time in a row and I must say, it isn’t wise to
display the sacred Ukulele so freely.”
Lavinia,
looking disappointed, put on a pouty look and then complained, “Pleeeeease…”
Then,
after a pause of about 12 seconds, and a very heavy sigh, Raqem replied,
“Alright then, if you insist.” Then he turned around from whence he came.
“Thank
you!” She turned to me and then added, almost whispering in my ear, “It’s worth
it, trust me.”
Raqem,
from a distance called back, “You could at least store it somewhere not as damp
and dark!”
She
leaned into my ear and whispered again, “Totally worth it.”
Me,
Naomi, Lavinia and the entire crowd of Ukulele Town waited silently for a few
minutes, until, Raqem, his fancy attire now covered in dust, returned. His
footsteps sounded on the smooth marble floor as he approached, but now he
cradled with him an artifact of carven wood.
As
Raqem approached, I managed to peer into the man’s arms and spied the
instrument. To my surprise it was not quite what I had expected. The small
stringed instrument was of simple, plain yellowish brown wood. The plain wood
was unremarkable, unshaven, stained and even slightly cracked on one edge.
I
looked at the unattractive instrument, as Lavinia lifted it from his arms. Then
Raqem bowed and retreated, leaving us all to gaze unblinkingly at the piece of
wood, as Lavinia lifted it for all to see. A gasp fell upon every mouth in the
foyer and then Lavinia brought the instrument to her chest and fingers. There
was a sudden hush, as I pulled in close to Naomi and whispered, “Is that thing
really sacred?”
She
looked over at me and shrugged, “I don’t know.”
Then,
Lavinia lowered her fingers upon the stained, colourless strings and plucked
carefully.
At
first, I really didn’t hear anything. But then a slightly gentle ringing began
to grow into the back of the walls. It was a beautiful, soft sound, resonant
and kind. At first, I looked around, unaware as to where such an attractive
sound was coming from.
Then
I realized it was coming from the Ukulele. The strings gently plucked by
Lavinia let out perfect harmonies and filled the room with the aroma of soft
melodies. Everyone closed their eyes, including myself to purely hear the song
she played. It rose, it dropped, flung from side to side, taking us all on a
feverish ferry ride. And then, the song set us down on some desolate shore and
calmly retreated back into the waters of beautiful music, where all sweet
melodies come from.
I
opened my eye to find Lavinia’s bugging eyes staring right at us, as she had
finished her song. I was not startled; however, I was at peace with the song,
as was Naomi, who simply let out her breath, relaxed. From the rest of the
foyer, I felt a calm breeze, as if the entire crowd had done the same. Except
for Raqem, who was still bowing, his arms stretched out. I saw him lift his eyes
to gaze at Lavinia and roll them, as if tired of the same happenings all the
time.
The
entire room was calmed and at peace, until, all of a sudden, Lavinia, sucking
in all the air she could afford in her lungs, let out her mighty voice
throughout the entire hall, “ITS LUNCH TIME BOYS AND GIRLS!!”
Then
the orchestra let out a raucous of noise and song, and everyone in the
crowd looked around in anticipation. Lavinia, with a wave of her hand,
signalled the doors leading outside of the main foyer and hundreds of servants
and workers piled out, carrying baskets, tables, chairs and covers of all
colours and sizes. They scattered around, immediately busy at their work
setting up tables for some magnificent feast.
I
stood, motionless, still aghast at the magnificent sound of such an ugly,
ordinary instrument until I felt the familiar tug at my sleeve. Lavinia,
chuckling again, pulled us forcefully off the stairs and into the now well
stirred crowd. Pushing through the masses, she went addressed Naomi, “See!
Didn’t I tell you it would be well worth
it?!”
She
looked at me, “Hmmmm… didn’t I, didn’t I tell you. Just marvellous, no?”
I
nodded, “It was, it surely was, but where is it that you are taking us now?”
She
giggled again, "You’ll see, you’ll see."
We
wadded through the people till we arrived to one of the many doors from whence
the servants had entered. I looked back to see hundreds of platters of fruit
pile in through the door and Raqem, following, arms folded behind his back,
close behind.
As
we escaped and the busy workers faded behind us, we entered some sort of
kitchen, from where hundreds of cooks were well at work, all working on
multicoloured smoothies for the feast ahead.
Then,
passing even this, we took a series of spiral staircases, till I was thoroughly
confused and the music had completely vanished from my ears. The four of us
must have been rather far from the main party. I now could only wonder what our
fabulous party host had in mind. I smiled, only thinking about till.
Till
I returned to look at our guide and find for the first time she was not
smiling, but looked as serious as possible. Dead serious.
Suddenly
uncomfortable, I began to desperately want to know what fate she had in plan
for us. What was this? Had we done something?
We
moved on, up the stairs, until we reached a rather cosy, warm room, furnished
with sofas, chairs, books on all the walls and several beautiful paintings with
peculiarly regular styles as compared to the ones downstairs. These were
beautiful in a traditional sense. At the middle of the room there was a blazing
fireplace. As we entered the wooden doors to the room, Lavinia let go of us
and, motioning to a velvet sofa, said, “Please, have a seat.”
Her
voice was monotonous and did not resemble her attitude from before in the
least. She was quite literally not the same person as before. We sat, morbidly
serious, in reaction and we heard the creaking of doors. At turning around, I
caught the last glimpse of an equally serious Raqem, shutting the doors to the
room. These put the room into a gloomy reddish light provoked only by the
fireplace.
Lavinia
took a seat in front of us and looked at us intently.
For
a second, I realized that there was something she had been hiding all this time
from us, from those people downstairs, something she was about to make clear to
us.
Naomi
opened her mouth to speak, but Lavinia lifted her hand as if to say, please
wait.
Then,
in a calm, still soft, but now still voice spoke, “You’re probably very
confused at the moment as to what is going on. Many things about what I’ve just
done must seem strange, but let me first start by saying, Yes, it was me who
asked you to come, in disguise.”
She
waited a second, as if allowing this to sink in, then she continued, “There is
a truth, I have hidden from my people, and hidden from everyone except from
Raqem, my most trusted. The rest I have kept in the dark through a façade. I
have tried to keep my people calm and ignorant for as long as I can remember.
There are those who would expose the truth, as you may have seen.”
I
immediately thought of the screaming man in the market place. “This I have
tried to avoid with all my strength and you may have a problem with that and
ask why, but the only answer that I can give now is that they are not ready for
the truth.”
She
paused again and looked over her shoulder at the fire, as if hesitating what
she was about to say.
Finally
I bumped in and asked, “What is the truth?”
She
looked at me and then sighed, “The truth is that I do not want my people to
know that Ukulele Town is doomed. It has been since it was built, almost 200
years ago. At first it was only a matter of drought and drying up of the wells
that fed us. Then it became a matter of disease and violence from the outside.
And now, soon approaches the great finale. There is a great calamity that is
soon to come. I feel it, the tension in the city is felt, but there is just a
perfect way to ignore it.”
She
sighed, almost depressed by the truth she had just told. “It is these arts and
feasts and songs and dances and paintings. I made it all, I brought the arts
and culture to Ukulele Town to keep my people happy, to keep them unaware,
unaware of the plagues that creep into the city and the violence of the outside
world, getting ready to consume us. I became as happy as can be, and they did
as well. Only then could I keep the façade, could I delay the destruction of my
city. Here no one knows what lies outside.”
She
stopped, almost exhausted by the effort of telling us this horrible news. I
stood still in utmost shock. How could this be? How could all the beauty of
this city be only a trick, a ruse?
“How
could you do such a horrible thing?” Naomi beat me in asking.
She
looked at us, pain in her eyes, “At first, yes, this was the beautiful home of
culture and the arts, but then when our demise became evident to my mother, she
worked to keep this alive, to keep her people ignorant. If they knew, the city
would fall apart and all the beauty within it as well. Don’t you see it? Don’t
you see the beautiful poetry, the beautiful paintings, colours?! O, and the
melodies, the songs they sing! This is not a trick, it is a defense. Is it not
worth keeping it all alive?”
I
looked down at the red carpet in sadness. She was right, I knew, the people of
Ukulele Town were doomed and they knew nothing about it.
“I
don’t understand.” I interjected, “How do you know of this disaster? What will
happen?”
“There is a great evil, and it has corrupted
everything in and out of Ukulele Town. It came about during my mother’s time,
and the city was near collapse. She saved it, but could not stop the
inevitable, that this corruption would eventually destroy us. Either through
plague, or war, I do not know. It has already invested the lands of Nitzanland,
over the borders of my kingdom; out there, there is death. But here we have
stayed safe, a last stronghold. But now it will be our end.”
She
then twisted into her seat and began to cry silently. The sight was so sad, a
tear rolled down both mine and Naomi’s cheeks.
“Is
there anything we can do?” Naomi asked, sad, but as sincere as could be.
However,
this played with my mind, for I then remembered she had been the one to call
us, she had invited us to be told about this. Surely for a reason.
Now
full of hope I asked, “Why did you call us? Why did you tell us? Is there
something we can do?”
The
crying stopped after a few seconds and the questions had had time to float
around. She lifted her head out of the seat. “I do not know if you can. But I
do think something can be done.”
Both
of us in unison asked, “WHAT!”
Smiling,
in tear drenched happiness she replied. “You see, when my mother struggled with
the city, she would have failed and let the entire city be destroyed, were it
not for one man. This man, a prophet from a distant land, foresaw the evil
taking effect and warned my mother. His name was Tucker Barrows.”
She
pointed at a portrait on the wall to the left of us. It was ginger bearded man,
with a stubble and a moustache. The man smiled slightly but was at the same
time, dead serious in his portrait. He held a parchment of paper in one hand
and had a bike situated behind him.
“This
man saved this city, and then left my mother. According to her, he had the key
to save us from this evil and left the city to do so. Then he vanished to time
and history. My mother died attempting to find him and the salvation of these
people.” She motioned down to the floor, “But perhaps she did not try in vain.”
She
continued, almost hopefully, “I called you two because I knew you were not from
here. I knew I needed someone who could do what I am about to ask, someone not
from here.”
“What?”
I asked.
“What?”
asked Naomi.
She
hesitated then continued, “My mother, before she died, found the initial route
taken by Tucker before he vanished. She could not go any further from her
kingdom, and neither can I. But YOU! You can find the route, follow his
footsteps, and find what he found.”
I
looked at Naomi with a small inch of doubt, but did not find the same in her,
she simply looked deeply into Lavinia’s eyes and replied, “We will! We can! We
will do anything for this place.”
Lavinia,
tears in her eyes, looked at the two of us, “Really, you would brave the wilds
of Nitzanland, its beasts, its savages and all the cursed evil that inhabits
it? For me, for this place?”
I
looked into her tear soaked eyes. She was so sad, so needing of this. “Of
course," I replied. "Of course we will.”
Then
she jumped from her seat in joy and hugged us on our seats.
“Thank
you!” she yelled, “Thank you for this!”