by Unknown
The one thing that amazed the Master Carpenter was that no one ever seemed to notice or comment on how good and kind his children were. Although he kept to himself now, he would still occasionally overhear the ridicule and it caused his heart to grow very heavy. After a few years, It began to wear the old man down. He resented the shallow, cold hearts of his neighbors. He finally closed the shop up and went to live the rest of his days on the farm with his son and daughter-in-law.
As the years passed by, Jack and Edith saw people less and less. They visited the village as little as possible. Those who sought out Jack for hire would customarily meet with his father to make the arrangements. Jack had asked his father to take on this task out of respect for the old man who could now only handle the easier work. His father had heartily agreed because he had watched the hurt on Jack's face when people would squirm and grimace in poorly concealed disgust at the sight of his son.
Now one day, as twilight neared, a young man in humble clothes appeared from around the road's bend. He looked to be a traveler, by way of the few belongings strapped to his back, and his weary gait. He approached Jack, who had been working in the field and had just stopped to look up from his labor to take in the beauty of the sunset. At first he didn't speak, but stood in silence with Jack, gazing with appreciation at the changing colors that played upon the sky. When finally the evening embraced them, the stranger broke the silence.
"Kind farmer," he began, "I am a traveling minstrel and in need of a place to sleep for the night. Although I am accustomed to making the earth my bed, if you would be kind enough to let me sleep in your barn, I will entertain you with song and story this evening as payment. I am quite skilled and have been found by many to be very amusing."
"You are very welcome to stay the night in our barn and your songs and stories will be welcomed too!" Jack graciously replied. "I'm about to go in for supper. You are also welcome to join us."
The stranger smiled and nodded and followed Jack into the cozy little house. At first Edith and her father-in-law looked surprised and a little distrustful of the stranger. But, after Jack explained, they greeted the young man warmly and invited him to sit down and join them.
At first there was an uncomfortable silence. They were used to people avoiding them and didn't know quite how to take the casual friendship of the stranger. But, as the young man began to tell them of his travels, where he'd been and what he'd seen, they soon relaxed and were grateful for the company. The quiet stranger told them stories that made them laugh and sometimes shake their heads in awe or disbelief, for not one of them had been farther than the country outside the small village.
After supper, they all gathered near the fire and the stranger pulled out a small lap harp from its tattered bag. He began to play a haunting tune that held the three in a captive spell. Then, slowly and sweetly, he began to sing. They listened in astonishment as his song told the story of their very own lives. It told of the scorn shown them because of their appearance. It told of their love for each other, but of the loneliness in their hearts too. It told of their goodness, gentle spirits, and of the kindness they showed others throughout the years. Then he sang of how one sweet spring evening a traveling stranger came to ask for a place to sleep for the night and, because of their kindness toward him, they would be given a special gift in return. And the gift that would be given them was this; that, within one year's time, both Jack and Edith would be transformed into the most pleasing to behold in all the land.
As he sang his enchanting song, tears welled up in the eyes of the old man, for he loved his children dearly, and, as he wept, he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
***
When the old man awoke the next morning, he asked Jack and Edith about the young visitor and the very beautiful, enchanting song. They remembered no such song and told him it must have been a dream he had. He insisted it was not a dream, but a spell cast over them by the strange young minstrel. They patiently listened to him, but gently denied their father's story. They explained that the young man went to bed after supper and had left early before dawn's first light. They urged their beloved father to put it behind him and think of it no more.
Now, as the year drew on, and their love only deepened, Jack and Edith began to notice a change taking place in one another. Edith was losing her homely, squat appearance and was beginning to look as graceful and lovely as any woman could be. Jack began to look handsome and sure of himself. They began to quietly discuss among themselves the night the stranger had come to visit them, and even wondered if the story their father had told them could possibly be true.
Day after day, spring into summer and summer into fall, they watched the mysterious transformation unfold. Finally, after the long, hard, cold winter loosed its grip and spring flowers began to bloom, Jack and Edith were struck with a wonderful idea!
They decided to invite everyone they'd ever known to come and share a special spring celebration with them! No one knew that the two ugly outcasts had now become the handsomest couple in all the land and that would be their surprise!
They were very excited about their plan but, when they told their father, he only shook his head with doubt. He feared his children would only be hurt even more deeply by this folly, for, to his old eyes, they hadn't changed at all. The old man did, however, finally agree to send word to the village and the surrounding area about Jack and Edith's spring feast.
Jack and Edith busied themselves to prepare for the special event. There was so much to be done and they were very excited! Edith's lavender and wild roses graced the arbor around the house. Honeysuckle released its sweet perfume all around the yard. Every window sill had flower pots full of bright daisies. When the day of the festival came, they were ready. There would be mutton and hams, boiled eggs, fresh vegetables, apples, and pastries. They worked very hard to make it the most wonderful celebration ever seen!
In late morning, on the appointed day, people began to arrive. Jack and Edith remained hidden in their room while their father greeted one and all. They wanted to make a grand entrance after all the guests had arrived. Dressed in their finest, they giggled with excitement at the thought of how surprised everyone would be to see them.
"They probably won't even recognize us," they whispered to each other.
The guests chattered and laughed among themselves about the strange couple. Most had come simply for the free feast. Some out of curiosity, for there had been a hint of mystery with the invitation.
Jack's father served wine to the guests and tried to ignore the snickers and whispers he couldn't help but overhear. He dreaded the outcome of the day, but did as his children asked, for he couldn't bear to break their hearts with the truth. It was his last hope that people would be kind after all, but now his hopes fell.
Then a very strange thing happened. The young minstrel who had visited them the spring before, suddenly appeared in the midst of the guests. He pulled his harp from its tattered bag and began to play and amuse everyone. There was much laughter and dancing and no one gave a thought to Jack and Edith. The old carpenter watched and wondered at this but said nothing.
After a while, everyone grew very tired and, one by one, they all laid down right where they had stood and fell asleep. Only the old man remained awake. Amazed, he approached the young minstrel and stood before him.
"How is this?" he asked in awe and wonder.
"First you visit our house one year ago in the spring and I dream of a spell cast over my children. Then I watch in anguish as they begin to believe that they have been transformed into Beauty itself. For love of them, I said nothing. But now this? Have you woven your magic once more? And to what end this time? I beg you now, Stranger," the old man pleaded, “to leave us and never again return.”
The minstrel smiled and, without a word, left the farm, never to return.
The old man went to the room where his children waited. He knocked on the door and Jack opened it. He and Edith stood ready to make their planned appe
arance. The old man just stood silent, not knowing what to tell them. Suddenly, every guest began to stir and arise.
Jack and Edith began to slowly make their way through the crowd, greeting each one as they would pass. There was a murmuring throughout the house and yard as each and everyone gazed with astonishment at them.
"They're beautiful!" some exclaimed.
"Is it really them?" others whispered.
"Has magic been cast upon this house?" others wondered out loud.
As Jack and Edith passed by and the guests would turn to speak amongst themselves, each and every one of them began to see each other very differently. They began to see their own ugliness for how they had treated these gracious folk over the years. For the first time, they began to feel ashamed and heart-sick.
Then, as the old man looked on in astonishment, one by one, each guest came forward, admitted to their wrongs and, very humbly, asked for forgiveness!
The beautiful couple graciously accepted all the apologies and nearly wept for joy at the thought that, finally, they might have friends. They held not one hard feeling against all their neighbors. It had never been their way to harden their hearts.
The old man just shook his head and smiled to himself. Jack and Edith hadn't changed at all. They were the same as they'd always been. But the minstrel had, indeed, cast a spell. For all who beheld them would see them as they truly were. They had always been beautiful in their hearts. Never again did one person utter an unkind word about Jack or Edith. For the rest of their days, everyone who beheld them treated them as though they were a prince and princess living among them.
One year passed from the time of the spring celebration and Edith and Jack were blessed with the first of their five children. All in all, they had three fine sons and two lovely daughters that gave them joy for the rest of their days.
The old carpenter never said a word to anyone about the minstrel's magic, but lived out the remainder of his life as a quietly contented man. In fact, he was often seen chuckling to himself with a look of uncontrolled amusement.
Susan M. Botich is a storyteller. She tells her stories through songs, poems, short stories, and novels. She lives in Bend, Oregon, with her exceptionally innovative husband.
Visit Susan at her Website
or look for her titles at Amazon
THE LEGEND OF THE CORKSCREW SWAMP
Dayna Leigh Cheser
On February 1st, 2003, I deposited a nice bonus check and took a leave of absence from the real estate firm in New York City where I’d had an exceptional year as a Broker/Associate. Now, it was family time. My wife and I packed our five kids into our Lexus, and made for warm and sunny Florida.
We spent two weeks working our way down the east coast. After the Jacksonville/St. Augustine area, our next stop was the Daytona 500 where, on February 16th, Michael Waltrip won the race. The next stop was Orlando and Disney World.
Next, we went to Sea World, which I thought was great, and the Space Center, even better, then visited family in the Ft. Lauderdale/Miami area.
One day, we stood on Smathers Beach, near the western end of Route A1A on Key West, looking out over the vast expanse of ocean around us – the Gulf of Mexico to the west and the Atlantic Ocean to the east.
Back on the mainland, we drove west across Alligator Alley, now a 4-lane Interstate with fences to keep the alligators off the road. The kids scanned the roadside canals, hoping to see some of the prehistoric creatures.
I, on the other hand, a city-boy all my life, became concerned about the total absence of civilization. We were crossing the Everglades, the Sea of Grass. Exits were few and only one gas station/convenience mart appeared during the two-hour drive.
At the first Naples exit, I turned off the highway, eager for civilization again. We found a great hotel on the beach, and watched the sun set into the Gulf of Mexico. Soon, the soothing sounds of the waves slapping the beach lulled us to sleep.
At first light, the kids were up and ready to go. We selected interesting brochures from a display in the lobby, including one for a place called ‘The Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary,’ an Audubon Society property, inland and northeast of the city.
Nearly an hour later, we stopped for gas. While I was filling up, a battered old pickup truck pulled in and parked in front of the convenience store, not far from where I stood.
“Excuse me, sir,” I called to the old man who emerged from the truck. “Excuse me,” I repeated, a bit louder.
The old man turned and shuffled over, removing his cap and wiping his brow with his sleeve as he walked. His hair was grey and sparse but his blue eyes were bright.
“Hi!” I began, a little uncomfortable under his gaze. “Uh, how far it is to the Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary? I’m afraid I might have missed it.”
“Nope. It’s still a few miles that way, on the left,” he said. His gaze softened and he smiled. Something about him changed as he started to tell me a story.
Hypnotized, I listened. The busy convenience store and gas pumps faded away as he spoke. His story wove a rich tapestry in my mind; his words painting vivid pictures, almost like memories. I was transported to another world.
***
Billy Joe and his friends, Carlito, and Rain were bored. The summer break from school was almost over. Soon, they’d be back in school, with a different kind of boredom.
Sittings on old tree stumps, the trio watched Rain’s mother hang laundry on a line strung between two trees and propped up by forked sticks. The sounds of summer formed the framework of their thoughts in the summer heat. The pines sighed and palmetto fronds chattered in the occasional breeze.
Billy Joe kicked his stump, his sneakers making soft, rhythmic thuds on the dead wood. Carlito wiped sweat from his face with a big red handkerchief. Rain, the youngest, tossed her long, black hair back over her shoulders. Billy Joe’s mind wandered as he scanned the pines and palmetto landscape, hoping for inspiration.
The trio considered everything within bicycle range to be their private domain. The matter of warning signs, locked gates and even parental admonishments meant little to these young adventurers. Then, Billy Joe's eyes focused on a distant sign at the edge of the main road – ‘the Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary.’
“Yes!” he breathed. “The Swamp.” The coming night was now ripe with the promise of excitement and adventure.
Billy Joe’s friends looked at him, their eyes bright with anticipation. Carlito, a newcomer to the neighborhood, leaned closer, eyes wide. “What es ‘swamp’?” His accent made his question difficult to understand.
Rain pondered a moment. “Pantano," she translated.
Carlito understood. "Ah, pantano, gracias."
She continued. “At the end of the road there’s a place called the Corkscrew Swamp. People pay to go there to look at plants and animals, birds mostly, but sometimes other stuff, too, like 'gators.”
Billy Joe scoffed. “It’s no fun there in the daytime. My cousin told me it’s really scary at night. He’s been there.” Lowering his voice and leaning closer to his friends, he glanced toward Rain’s mother, and challenged them. “If we go there tonight, after dark, we’ll see if he’s right.”
Rain hushed the others. With her serious Seminole wisdom, she noted, “My mother has the ears of an eagle. If we do this, we must be very quiet.” They nodded and resumed their bored stance.
Billy Joe kicked the dead stump; Carlito wiped sweat from his face with his handkerchief and Rain tossed her long hair back over her shoulders.
After supper and chores, the three friends met again at the stumps. Feigning boredom again, they watched as the red sun dropped below the horizon. Then, melting into the evening shadows, they made their way down the dusty dirt road to the Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary entrance. The three friends didn’t have mischief in mind, only the heart-pounding knowledge they would be someplace they shouldn’t. Talking in subdued tones, they gained entry by climbing the gate and dropping to the ground inside. A full moon showed them the w
ay.
Daytime visitors to the Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary enter through a Welcome Center, and walk along a path through tall pines and palmetto ground cover before stepping out onto a boardwalk and into another world. In the moonlight, the scene took on a life of its own; instead of a wooden bridge-like structure, it became a gleaming silver path, straight at first, then winding around majestic cypress trees, old beyond years, before disappearing into the dark strand. The bright moon reflected off the surface of the still, shallow waters, illuminating the ripples created by frogs, bugs and other creatures of the night. The adventure was at hand.
The children, fearless in their youth, stepped out onto the boardwalk. They paused, then, laughing aloud, they took off at a run. Moments later, they stood where the boardwalk entered the dark cypress strand. Looking back, they saw the reflected moon and the pines beyond. Turning, they looked into the darkness ahead. What awaited them there?
The three stood transfixed by the endless possibilities. Rain, the tiny Seminole brave, broke the spell with a toss of her head. Laughing, she poked her friends, and set off into the darkness. Billy Joe and Carlito followed close behind her.
What befell the trio on that fateful night will never be known. While it was undeniably dark, and, could be dangerous, whatever was inside the dark strand whisked them away without a trace. Billy Joe, Carlito and Rain were never found.
Friends and family spent agonizing weeks looking for them before the authorities finally called off the search. It is said that on still, summer nights, when the moon is full, if you listen closely, you might hear Billy Joe, Carlito and Rain laughing.
***
The old man stopped talking. Without a word, he turned and shuffled into the store. I shook my head and blinked. The moonlit boardwalk faded away, the nocturnal quiet transformed to traffic noise; the primordial cypress strand became a busy convenience store parking lot. As awareness returned, I realized my wife and kids were clamoring for me to finish and get going. I put the nozzle back in the pump and collected the receipt.
