Once upon a time, there was a little boy named Dang. He lived in a garden where it was always springtime. The garden had high golden walls and a golden gate, and he was very happy, because this was the most beautiful garden in the world. There were peach trees that flowered and bore fruit at the same time, so the air was always full of their perfume and he always had enough to eat. There were silver birds sang with words, and the paths were paved with sapphires. One day, a man came to the gate. Dang had never seen people before, so he was very curious. The man said that he was the Lord of the world outside the garden, and offered Dang a pomegranate before he went away again. Delighted, Dang began to eat, and with every pomegranate seed he swallowed, he grew a little taller and a little stronger, until at last he was much bigger and stronger than before. He was overjoyed with the change and spent the day chasing birds and racing across the jewelled paths so that the gems flashed in the sun beneath him like a ribbon of azure fire. He climbed the peach trees to get to the sweetest fruits, and they tasted all the finer because he had fought to get at them. The next day, the Lord beyond the garden returned, and this time offered Dang a bunch of grapes. Dang took them eagerly, for he knew that the mans gifts were wondrous things. He ate, and with each grape he ate, he became a little cleverer, until at last he was cunning and wise, with eyes as keen as a hawks and ears as sharp as a foxs. With his new wisdom, he realised that the silver birds repeated themselves over and over, singing the same songs with the same words day to day, and he wondered why there were only peaches in his garden, for by now he had tasted pomegranate and grape and longed for strange new things to eat. He climbed to the top of the tallest peach tree and looked out over the golden wall, out into the woods beyond the garden, green and mysterious and spreading out from horizon to horizon. And for the first time in his life, Dang was discontented with his home. On the third day, the Lord beyond the garden returned and in his hand he held an apple as red as slaughter. He was smiling like a wolf, although Dangs new hawks eyes were greedily fixed on the apple and did not see, and his foxs ears did not hear the knife-edge hidden in the mans voice. Is that for me? asked Dang. If you want it, said the Lord, and turned away from him, walking back into the woods. Alarmed that he was going to be denied this gift, Dang threw open the golden gate and chased after the Lord beyond the garden, pursuing him deep into the emerald shadows and sun-dappled glades of the forest until at last the man dropped the apple - or perhaps he let it fall from his hand as he darted into the darkness and was gone. Dang picked up the apple and bit into it greedily, wondering what wondrous surprise was in store for him now - and froze. The apple burned like fire in his mouth, and for the first time in his life, Dang knew pain. He tasted bitterness on his tongue and he knew that the apple had been poisoned. Clutching his throat, he fell to the forest floor and fainted clean away. When he came to, the first thing he noticed was that the taste of apple still lingered in his mouth, and though he spat and washed his mouth in the water of a nearby stream, he could not be rid of it. Night had fallen, and the forest which had looked so mysteriously lovely by daylight had become threatening and strange. Dang searched for the path back to the garden, but the trees seemed to have moved while he slept and nothing looked familiar. He spent the night huddled under an ash tree, terrified of the forest sounds. When the sun rose, he found that the world had changed. No longer was it full of emerald shadows and sun-dappled glades - the forest was grey and drear, even in the soft golden light of dawn, and when he looked down at himself, at the new body that had been given to him by the pomegranate seeds, the wisdom that had been given to him by the grapes turned inward. For this was the effect of the poison: to leech the world of splendour, and to make sharper and clearer all its faults. Dang had loved his new strength and speed and the freedom they had brought him, but now his hawks eyes saw every flaw in his limbs, his foxs ears heard every sour note in his new voice. He saw dirt in every sparkling dewdrop and crawling things under every blooming flower. The sound of the morning chorus sounded harsh and grating to him, and the fruits that he foraged to break his fast were bitter and scant. Dang began to walk, hunting for the garden, for he longed to return to the garden with its softly-singing silver birds and jewelled paths. He knew that if he could only eat one of the peaches that grew there, its sweet perfume would wash away the bitterness that lingered in his mouth and his blood and poisoned the world he saw. For years and years he searched, growing worn and weary with wandering, but he never saw so much as a glimpse of the golden walls, nor did his foxs ears hear a silver bird utter a single sweet note.
Posted on: Wed, 29 Oct 2014 09:29:13 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015