Elpest

Elpest



The sound of the sea was rhythmic but it soothed no hurts. The dark waves glistened in the moonlight as they washed the shore times uncountable. In their folds, stories of misery were whispered. If one only listened, one could almost hear humanly cries.

  Even the stars vibrated with the passion of the night…But the moon…oh the moon was grim, as if refusing to submit, to its call.

  In its watery light, the dragon mourned. It was a great muscular creature with translucent scales of a periwinkle grey, a color that matched the grief that had wrung his spirit for centuries.

  The dragon paced restlessly tonight, as it did every night before, since the beginning of time. Its head was thrown back and a deep voice, so rich, so divine, escaped its throat and broke through the atmospheres. The song should, by that time, have been in tatters, but every night it was more dreadful, more exquisite.

The notes strained out of his throat, like a deep and rumbling violin. They rang and vibrated through the very cores of the beastly boulders that edged the sea shore. With every second that the song lasted, it set free more demons of the past. They could almost be seen rising from the waves and the accumulating mist.

  When the dragon could sing no more, its wings folded themselves on its back. And the tears came, burning and hot. Streams, rivers of them cascaded onto the sand, oozing toward the lapping wavelets. Its dragon heart pained him with every beat. The heavenly voice that was rich with song now shrieked out in high wounded moans.

  Elpest. My brother, he whispered.

  The unbidden memories spun in a frenzy before his eyes. It was in the laughing dawn of time that he and his brother frolicked on this very shore every day of their young lives…but the growing-up came in the way and brought aloofness with it. No longer did his twin care for the folly of children, nor the tight friendship of two brothers in their prime. His sights were set elsewhere. His dreams were woven somewhere high and soaring, away from the scornful ground.

  I will fly to the sun for there are worlds of treasure, he had said.

  And it was one day, without any warning that he took off with his fully-grown wings and soared, higher and higher…straight to the ball of raging fire that was the sun and was never seen again. There was news of his brother, one afternoon when the sky was laden with a grey storm. The clouds opened as though a voice had ordered them to. Sunlight shone through like the sweet breath of a child and a shower of little shiny things fell through. They fell quietly, soundlessly. They floated in a languid dance and lay on the surface of the sea. They were the scales of Elpest…what was left of him.

  And now the sea shore and the dragon, both quite aged and careworn, were constant companions. It had become a place where agony was shed freely. No other living soul was allowed there at night. It was the dragon’s realm, his to haunt.

  In the morning, however, everything would be a blur. Only hints of his song would flutter with the wind like a short thread trailing from a needle. Only children, with their pure sensitive hearts, would hear the sadness and feel it. They never finished building their sandcastles. They clung to their parents, unable to explain why they wanted to go home.

  One afternoon, a chubby five-year old with curls of golden hair, picked up a round and shiny thing that was wedged into the wet sand. It seemed  to have washed ashore. He lifted it up to the sun and his eyes brightened in delight. It was as big as mummy’s dinner plates and through it shone all the colors of the rainbow. He relished his luck at having found such a treasure. He put it in his linen sac and took it home, wondering why he suddenly choked in a strange new agony that was born in his chest.