Sun-baked sand warmed Nim’s toes as she and Joey put the finishing touches onto a sand castle, despite the fact that darkness was beginning to add a chill to the air. Springtime in Nova Scotia did not warm up too quickly. There were more pebbles than sand, since Cape Breton was a rocky coast line, but there was still enough sand to scrape a castle together. There were even feathers found to decorate it with, though soon the birds would repossess those in order to line their nests. It was a breathtaking place, and, as usual, Nim found her eyes drawn out to the water. Fog had rolled in, and, save for the reverse of the colors in the fading sunset, muted the world enough that there was no horizon, the sky blending into the sea, and the hand of the sea meeting the sky.
Joey sat back on his haunches. He could always tell when Nim was contemplating something far, far away. He often capitalized on such moments, to see if she would tell him the story. They were such fantastic stories of noble dragons and desperate humans, with witches and winged cats. The boy swiped at his blonde hair, to move a curl from where it tickled, but also succeeded in smearing sand all across his forehead. Nim leaned forward to brush the sand off his forehead before it found its way into his hair. This was probably futile; they were both covered in enough sand to fill a small sandbox.
“Nim, do you know any stories about castles?” Joey finally asked, looking up at her with false shyness. He looked so innocent, and it forced Nim’s hand as she moved forward to ruffle his hair, sighed, and nodded.
“Yes. I know all sorts of stories about castles,” Nim began. She loved stories, reading them or creating them. “This story was passed down by my mother.”
“Once upon a time,” Nim told the story this way because Joey liked it when the stories began with this, “There was a King. He did not have a castle, and sought to build one. So, he called forth the greatest architects of his land so that the castle would be built from the finest materials. Then the King went off to seek hospitality around the countryside, and thus live with the many lords and ladies of his land in their fine castles and gloat, because he knew that his would be better than all of those combined.”
“Where the King first stopped had tapestries that told of noble battles fought,” Nim went on to tell of all the wonders of the lords’ courts with knights and fair maidens as Joey sat wide-eyed, imagining it all in the faithful way of a child that knows he’ll step through a magical door someday and be there.
“Then, one day, a storm caught the King unawares, and it was too far a ride to the next nobleman. Thus the King and his Advisor found themselves knocking on a Peasant’s hut. Startled, but polite, the Peasant bowed low and invited the illustrious company in. Inside the Peasant’s children played at drawing using pebbles which they laid out on the floor to form shapes, like so,” and Nim formed the rough shape of a daisy head with two dozen small pebbles. “And the Peasant’s wife was cooking dinner, but of course she didn’t have anything so grand as the lords did, but she threw more meat into the stew which otherwise would have been salted in order to preserve it for longer.”
“The King paid little mind, of course, to these peasants’ activities, however. He was still disgruntled about being unable to reach his desired destination. Because of this he didn’t notice the little girl until she reached up and tugged on his sleeve. The King was enraged by the touch of this commoner, and the little girl sprang away like a startled deer, but the King’s Advisor pointed to the pattern of stones that the little girl had been trying to show him. It was a wyrm, with its tail in its mouth, though crude, etched as it was from pebbles. The King shot a quizzical look at his advisor, wondering at the meaning of this.”
“Patiently the Advisor beckoned the child and asked, ‘Do you know the meaning of this?’ and watched as the little girl nodded, her fine China eyes wide as saucers in her pale face,” Nim paused dramatically, “ ‘Please, go on,’ prompted the Advisor.”
“ ‘Sir,’ the little girl knelt beside her drawing once more, ‘This is the ouro-ouroboros,’ the word was difficult, and the little girl got stuck once, but went on, ‘A great dragon. He always grows, but also always eats of his tail, for that is his nature. It symbolizes cycles like seasons, and things,’ here she grew less easy, obviously wondering if she had remembered that lesson right, and then plucking up the courage to add her opinion. ‘I-I think it represents love.’ ”
“The Advisor nodded his head in thanks to the little girl, but the King did not speak for a long while. Indeed, though dinner was served, he did not speak save to thank his hosts for the meal. It was a quiet meal, because none in the family knew what to say to the King, though with each other the King observed that they were so comfortable that they did not need to speak. Though he could not understand it, he was able to note that a single glance could convey an entire diatribe of thoughts and feelings. He noticed that their eyes lingered on the girl, since she had approached him, and there was something of a determined set as they watched her. Though the Peasant’s wife was a fine cook, the stew was, after all, just stew. At first the King shuffled uncomfortably, not sure what to say on the subject of food, but his Advisor smiled and thanked them all, and the moment passed. So the King stood silenced by his Advisor, watching the family.”
“After the storm,” Nim continued in a subdued voice, “The King and his Advisor moved on, but the King did not stop at the lords’ houses, as he had originally intended. Instead he set out at a fast pace for his home, the castle still in progress, stopping wherever the end of the day took him, with no concern as to those whom lived there. When he got there he oversaw the project, encouraging the workers and judging the work as it as finished. Finally, to the wall above the main hearth the King installed a piece of carved wood, cherry with inlaid ebony, of an ouroboros dragon. Beneath it, it read, ‘No home is complete without love, and no Kingdom is complete without love for its citizens.’ ”
“As you probably already guessed, the King was a good and wise king. And they lived happily ever after,” Nim finished. She paused, and then rose from beside sand castle. It was time to go in. They could probably get a few minutes more of discussion of the plot, but Joey didn’t say a word. He would probably think of ten thousand next time. Nim laughed to herself and brushed the sand off her knees. That was when it all changed.
Now there was no color left to the sunset, and a storm of their own had rolled in, all black, bristling thunderheads. Suddenly, a rogue wave swept in from the ocean and with deadly hands grasped Joey. Though Nim ran after him and the wave, the water kept receding, and she was unable to touch the ocean. Everything in Nim’s mind was cluttered by that cry Joey let out as he was submerged beneath the black ocean.
That was Nim woke from her dream, to find herself nestled safely, if sorrowfully, in Shaman. Her back was nestled against the root of some great tree, her knees curled nearly to her chest, and what had woken her up was when she had thrown back her head in her own howl of rage at the sea’s capture and hit her head on the root. Now she sat on that root. Although she was tired, she couldn’t go back to sleep. As wonderful as the dream with Joey had been at first, the horror of nightmares clung so much longer. How Nim longed for a shot of rum to ease her mind, but she had forbidden it. The risk of becoming an alcoholic again was too near. Nim threw on her cloak and sighed. She refused to wipe the tears away.
She watched the sand castle crumbled into the ocean, now that it did not have two constant guardians in her day-dreaming thoughts, rebuilding it as it fell.
He was no home-grown horror.
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Nim
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