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Written for The Writer's Cramp. |
| “Tell us a story, grandmother.” “Yes, grandmother! Tell us the story that you never tell.” “Now, how would you know about a story that’s never been told if no one before has heard the telling?” “Please, grandmother.” Her whiskers twitched as she considered the newly orphaned twins. Their poor parents had been caught by a house cat just last week. “Alright, dears. I will tell you. But just this once and just tonight.” She looked out through their mouse hole to where the moonlight was shining on the floorboards. She felt old and just a little bit sad but tonight was a full moon, the brightest night. It felt right to tell this tale. “Once upon a time, there was a king-“ “A king? We’ve only had Queens.” “A human king, now don’t interrupt.” “Once upon a time there was a king who was always happy. He smiled and made merry all day and at night he would awaken himself with laughter. “This made the Rat Queen furious! All our queens are named for what lives in their hearts and this queen was named Morbid. “Late one evening she approached the king’s court, her staff in hand, and with it she summoned her entourage. Her rats were so great in number that they swarmed the walls, they drowned themselves in barrels of ale, they were uncountable. She threatened that she would command them to strike unless the king agreed to a bargain. If he would only trade his own happiness, she would leave in peace. “‘Amidst the screaming women and the men hacking away, only to see more rats take the places of those slain, he did trade her his happiness and she made for him a cloak with sadness woven in, darker than any night. “‘He became so sullen and strange that his family shunned him. He disappeared to the catacombs beneath the castle. All the while he kept his cloak wrapped tightly around him. “Only his daughter dared follow. She learned her way through the mazes, she watched him overturn skulls and mutter to himself, language lost. “Twenty-two moons passed before the girl gathered up the courage to beg an audience with the queen. She asked for the return of his happiness. She offered her own in its place, but Queen Morbid declared that she would rather keep it in its glass sphere, allowing the golden light of it to bathe her throne. She teased the girl and scared her, sending her minions to run over the girl’s feet and scratch the delicate skin of her ankles. “The girl yelped with pain, and ran to find a dark corner to hide in. There another bargain was made. “As she sat curled in the corner and wept quietly, and tried to keep her sadness to herself, she was overheard by small ears, by a mouse that was as heartbroken as she. “‘Excuse me, miss?’ the mouse squeaked. “The girl started and looked around, blind in the dark. ‘What do you want?’ she asked, resigned. “‘I want your help. Together we can steal back your father’s light and return my husband to me.’ “The girl wiped delicately under her eye, collecting the tears there. ‘Where is your husband?’ “‘He is bound to your king’s cloak, a part of the magic. The queen took him from me without a care. She should have had more care.’ “The girl was afraid but still she asked, ‘What must we do?’ “‘Oh, it’s simple, dearie,’ said the mouse. ‘You must shatter the globe holding your father’s light. Don’t worry, it knows who it belongs to. It will fly to your father, rest assured.’ “The mouse held up the Queen’s Staff, light emanated from the pearl at the end, enough for the girl to get a look at who she was talking to. The mouse spoke again, “I stole this while she was distracted by you. It may yet serve us both.’ She sped from the room and the girl followed. The mouse reached the throne almost before anyone saw her coming. Rats never expect mice. She sat and claimed it for herself. The moment she did the rats changed allegiance and bowed only to her and the power of the staff. She ordered them all to the tops of the towers and as they scurried away Morbid approached the throne. Her sharp teeth shone in the light of the king’s happiness. His daughter saw her chance and took it. She picked up the glass globe and shattered it upon the stones. The light zoomed away, as quickly as thought. The room plunged into darkness, but the mouse and the rat could still see and in the dark they took the measure of each other. ‘You will give my husband back to me,’ said the mouse and she pointed the staff at Morbid, ‘or I will make your rats rain down from the battlements.’ Morbid narrowed her eyes and turned to run for the girl picking her way through the dark to find her father. Morbid raced up her back and she shrieked. Her father heard and found her and dashed the former Queen to the ground. He discarded his cloak and spoke softly to his daughter as he guided her back into the light. The mouse went to the cloak and with a touch of the staff, set her husband free. Time moved on. A new Queen was crowned. The staff disappeared and on that the mouse keeps her own counsel. And there it is my dears, the story that I never tell.” “Is that a true story, grandmother?” “Of course not, dear. What is a true story anyway? All these stories are only what we make of them.” But later, after the twins had gone to bed, grandmother mouse pulled a matchbox from beneath her bed and slid it gently open. Nestled inside was a large, gleaming pearl. She placed one paw softly upon it, before shutting it away again, smiling to herself. Note ▼ Author's Note ▼ |
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