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Crown of Beauty
Father is feeling old and worthless and the tunnel folk decide to prove how much they love and value him
‘Gray-headedness is a crown of beauty when it is found in the way of righteousness’
Proverbs ch. 16. v31.
Drawing in a deep breath and exhaling it slowly Father sighed. These days just getting through each day was more than enough for him and he picked up one of the books lying upon the table with an absentminded air.
Usually he could lose himself in poetry, but just lately he had found that each verse had only emphasised to him the length of time he had lived beneath the city streets, far away from the wonders of nature.
It was the colours.
The colours that he missed the most.
Autumn leaves vibrant with colour, falling and rustling underfoot. How he had loved to hear them crunch beneath his feet as he had walked through forest pathways, filling his lungs with the heady scent of autumn musk.
Or to see the great expanse of ocean beneath a storm clad sky.
Darkening waves crashing white upon a rocky shore; a sea gull soaring overhead picked out brilliant white by one ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds. Or a rainbow arcing across the sky. Father well knew now that the treasure chest promised at its end was nothing in comparison to the treasure that God had created when he had created the rainbow itself.
In his mind’s eye, and through his books he could lose himself, pretend if only for a few hours each day that he was still above delighting in everything that mother nature had to offer. But he always had to come back to reality at some point.
As he closed the book and looked up he was brought back to sharp reality of hard cold grey rock, and a winter’s chill which pervaded the tunnels at any time of year.
He hadn’t minded once. Now it seemed in his old age, every bone, joint and sinew groaned in tune to the wind that cried relentlessly through the tunnels. Yet in stark contrast those same tunnels provided his safe haven, the only home he had known for decades, they were his sanctuary, a place of warmth from love and good companionship, the type of warmth that prevented any type of cold from seeping in.
Yet now as he stared out across his chamber, Father once again felt imprisoned by the cold grey walls. The ever-flickering candles were in no way a consolation for the brightness of the sunlight upon a meadow of golden corn ripe for harvesting. Neither did the dancing shadows represent in any way the long shadows of a winter evening as the sun disappeared over the horizon, flaming red and gold and orange.
Father exhaled another sigh, wiping away a lonely tear that fell silently from his eye.
Perhaps it was his age perhaps that was it. Or perhaps it was the fact that nobody seemed to need him these days.
Once he had been caught up in so many people’s lives that he had little time to stop and think about what he himself was missing.
People would come and go their lives repaired by the love shown from those below, healed enough to face the world again. In helping those ones, he had believed that he had helped himself, but now, now their stories came back to haunt him, as he remembered the things they had told him of their life above.
So many tragic stories, so many brave people healed enough to face life above once again.
Even Vincent, the son he had adopted from out of the cold. A sapling that had grown to the mightiest oak, even he it would seem no longer needed his father.
That was the biggest thing of all really, the fact that Vincent no longer needed him. Of all of his days below, having Vincent was the one person he could depend upon to fill the hours and help him feel wanted, needed, and Father had thrived on that.
His own son, Devin had departed long ago, had gone out into the wide world and for twenty years no one had known where he had gone. Now he visited a few times a year, breezing in and spinning yarns of his life above, before going again, as quickly as he had come. But Vincent could not leave, and Father had somehow clung to that knowledge, believing that even if he did forsake his life above, then it was worth it for Vincent needed him, as no one else could.
And then had come Catherine.
Dear sweet Catherine, offering Vincent a life he had never imagined. And Father was happy for them. He really was. Their fairy tale romance had blossomed and Catherine had given up her life above to share a happy life with Vincent below. And they had their children now, and Vincent would never be alone again.
Yet because of that neither did he need Father anymore.
Jamie and Mouse had married, and they too had children of their own.
Jeffrey had gone above, likewise Kipper, Eric and all of the young children. Even Lena’s child Cathy had gone with her mother back to the world above.
Mary had gone too.
Father didn’t think he would ever get over that at the time, but he had. Now years later though she was still sadly missed. Father was happy for her that she had met and married a man from the world above, one of the helpers, so that below did not have to be a secret to keep, And from time to time she and her husband would visit.
Maybe it was something someone had said. Admittedly in anger, but said nonetheless. This hole in the ground was nothing but a living grave, and why spend life below the ground when you’re a long time dead and will end up there anyway.
Father had thought about those words. He had really given consideration to them, and they returned to haunt him now. That man’s conceptions had been right. Living below was nothing more than a rocky grave and Father had had enough of it.
He let the silent tears fall now, wrapping himself in his self-pity and the book slid from his fingers to the floor. He looked at the broken spine of the book for some moments, before pushing it roughly aside and out of sight with his foot. He felt just like that book.
Broken and crushed.
*** *** ***
“This is beautiful Vincent, I never tire of coming here.” Catherine drank in the beauty of the great waterfall watching spellbound as the white water fell over the rocks to drop into a swirling mass of foaming water below. “I’m surprised that the density of water never subsides. In all the years I have been coming here, it is never either more or less in volume. It’s simply stunning.”
Vincent looked at his wife for many moments before replying, stunned as always by her perception of the world below, his heart gladdened by her joy. “Yes, when Devin and I used to come here as boys, we were always afraid that one day we would come and see it resorted to a mere trickle, but it never was. Great dreams have been dreamt here Catherine, not least my own.”
They were silent for a moment each remembering some of those times.
“Your world has so much to offer Vincent. It is always so full of surprises. All the world in an oyster.”
“A nice expression Catherine, one I have never thought of before. And you are right. What we have here below, one could never find all in one place above. Least of all a great waterfall as this in the middle of New York.”
“Just imagine if you could.” Catherine chuckled, “If the city were shrouded by great mountains, just think what a difference life would be up there.”
“Have you never missed being above Catherine?” It had been one of Vincent’s fears that one day his wife would wish to return to all that she had forsaken to be with him.
“And go without you? Never, Vincent you are my life, you know that, and nowhere holds any appeal if you are not there to see it with me.”
Vincent gathered her close; “I’m so happy Catherine, to have you here with me. You have enriched my life, given me things I never dreamt I’d have, I owe everything to you my love.” He kissed the top of her head.
“At least my being here alleviated some of Father’s fears. If I had never come below, you would have been forced to continue to take risks in coming to me, and we both know how Father worried about that.”
Vincent was quiet for some moments following Catherine’s remark and she waited patiently for his response. Eventually prompting him when some minutes had lapsed.
“What is it Vincent?”
“Nothing I can put my finger on really. It’s just that I have noticed that Father seems different just lately. Almost depressed.”
“Yes. I too have noticed this. I didn’t want to say anything to worry you, but Vincent you’re right he does seem depressed. His eyes have lost their lustre and he seems to do nothing more but sit and dream all day.”
“I’m worried about him Catherine.”
“A child’s prerogative Vincent. Life starts out with parents worrying about their children and ends the other way around, nonetheless I do wonder if it is just a phase he is going through or if it goes deeper than that. Do you think we should speak to him about it?”
“Perhaps. Let’s just watch him for a few days shall we? Maybe there is something worrying him and it will resolve itself.”
Catherine nodded, though she wasn’t so sure. Father’s inability to communicate just lately worried her immensely; it was almost as if he had given up the will to live. But she said nothing to Vincent. At least now they were both aware of it, they might be able to do something about it.
*** *** ***
There was something pricking at father’s memory, something he had started to read a few days ago that seemed right now to suit his mood.
Where was that book?
Casting his mind back, he remembered and felt guilty. Of course he had pushed the book beneath his chair with his foot that day it had slipped from his lap to the floor. Father glanced in that direction sure enough there lay the book just as he’d left it. He stooped now to pick it up, and flicked through the pages until he found the poem he was looking for, and begun to read in an undertone;
My days among the Dead are past;
Around me I behold,
Where’er these casual eyes are cast,
The mighty minds of old:
My never failing friends are they,
With whom I converse day by day.
With them I take delight in weal
And seek relief of woe;
And while I understand and feel
How much to them I owe,
My cheeks have often been bedewed
with tears of thoughtful gratitude.
My thoughts are with the Dead; with them
I live in long past years,
Their virtues love, their faults condemn,
And from their lessons seek and find
instruction with a humble mind.
My hopes are with the Dead; anon
My place with them will be,
And I with them shall travel on
Through all Futurity;
Yet leaving here a name, I trust,
That will not perish in the dust.
(Among His Books by Robert Southey 1774 – 1843)
Father closed the book with a nod of approval. Yes the poet was right. Books were good friends. Within their pages one could learn, could travel, could venture with the dead, could read about times past, times yet future, could lose oneself in the realms of fantasy, fact and fiction. And within the minds eye one could ‘see’ beyond the words and through the picture that they painted.
Nonetheless though, at the close of the last page, one was brought back into sharp reality and the cold hard depression bit back with a vengeance.
The approach of footsteps had Father raising his eyes, but he did not move from his chair, neither did a smile of welcome grace his lips.
Vincent followed by Catherine and one of their son’s came down the steps to his chamber, their eyes filled with concern.
“Father are you well, we missed you at dinner?” Vincent swept low and placed a kiss upon his father’s brow.
“I wasn’t hungry.”
He missed the look that passed from husband to wife.
“Were there many there?” Father asked not really caring either way.
“ A few, no one new. It seems that a lot of the tunnel dwellers are preferring to partake of their meals in their own chamber these days.”
Father looked up somewhat startled by that fact.
“They miss you Father.” Catherine ventured wondering if she should.
“Miss me?” Father's voice rose in surprise.
“Yes. When the patriarch of the tunnels refrains from eating among his friends, those friends soon go their separate ways. Father something is happening down here. You seem to be withdrawn and people are noticing.” She’d said it gently, and though she had promised Vincent she would not say anything, the moment seemed right.
Father’s eyes flashed blue with anger, “And that’s my fault I suppose!”
“Not at all.” Vincent hastened to reassure his parent. “We just miss you that’s all, everybody does. Somehow mealtimes are no longer enjoyable without you there.”
“There was a time when everyone would have preferred my absence.” Father grumbled, “Especially when you were all plotting something unfavourable that you knew I would not approve of.”
That much was true and Vincent could not argue with that. He changed the subject; “People miss the chance to speak with you. We are all so busy with our lives below, things are not as they used to be, the community we once knew is changing, and many seldom have the chance to visit. Mealtimes create the only chance for us to be together.”
“Once there would have been social gatherings Father. You would invite people here for music recitals or poetry readings. It has been a long time since any of us have partaken of anything so entertaining.” Catherine spoke softly.
Father glared at her. “Nothing is the same anymore Catherine, because most of the people have gone above. There are strangers in our midst now. I do not know these ones.”
“And you do not try to get to know them Father. Even your standing within the council has slackened. It is seldom that you turn up for a meeting to access the plight of someone wishing sanctuary below. If you did, at least then you would know who is new down here. Why some of the new tunnel dwellers only know of you by name, and many have lived here for quite sometime.”
“Then they should go for meals whenever I do grace the kitchen” Father snapped. “Its not all my fault. You’re forgetting Vincent that my chamber is before your own, yet people have no difficulty visiting you and Catherine. They could come to see me too, if it meant all that much to them.”
“They don’t know you Father.”
“And obviously they don’t want to do either. Vincent, Catherine, I understand your concern but it is unjustified. I only want to be left alone. At least these new tunnel dwellers pay me that courtesy.”
A growl issued from Vincent’s chest, “That was un-called for Father. You have never prevented us from coming here as we have pleased. If you don’t want our company, then just say so.”
Father stared up at his son, “I thought I had just done so.” His eyes held Vincent’s defying him to reply.
Catherine felt rather than saw the tears rise to Vincent’s eyes. Her husband turned away lest Father see what he had done. The stinging bite to his words had cut through his son’s heart deeper than a two edged sword.
Taking his arm, Catherine turned Vincent away, “Come David,” she called to their youngest son, “Grandfather needs his rest.” The child took her hand, and together the three left the chamber without another word.
*** *** ***
Those of old that remained of the council were concerned, “It’s so unlike him.” Elizabeth stated. “Oh I know he misses the old way. But we have had to move on. Modernisation hasn’t just hit the world above. We’re in the nineties now. Another eight years and we’ll enter a new century. I never thought I would see the day when Father refused to go ahead. He used to be such fun, such a pillar of support.”
“I know his legs play him up quite a lot these days,” Pascal stated flatly, “But there is still so much he could get involved in. Why he doesn’t even invite anyone to play chess anymore.”
“The chess set is covered in an inch of dust, that shows how long it is since he last played it.” Catherine told them all.
Each looked from one to the other gravely. “It’s more serious than I thought then.” William told no one in particular. “Chess was his life.”
“We have to do something. He’s slipping away from us. Even books aren’t occupying his time like they used to do. He just sits and dreams, staring into the flickering fire of the stove all day, I think he could be going senile.”
Everyone looked at Cullen wide eyed, no one had thought about this possibility.
“No.” Vincent shook his head; “it’s not that. When he does chose to speak, it’s with his usual intelligence. It’s just that the spark has gone. His devilment for fun and teasing is missing. I’ve been on the end of his merciless taunts more times than I can count, but I’d go through every embarrassing moment again in the space of a day, if only to have him throw something else at me just the once now.”
“What do you think he needs Vincent?” Catherine asked.
“I’m not one hundred percent sure. But the books he has read just lately are ones that highlight the earth above. I’ve noticed them in little piles around his table. Books about nature and travel brochures piles of those, though where he got them I do not know.”
“He’s missing life above.” Elizabeth mused.
“No, I don’t think so, not exactly. Perhaps that is what he tells himself, but something took him to that stage. It’s not the root cause. I think he feels unwanted. Let’s face it, everyone from the old days has someone now. I’m married, Pascal is, Cullen, William, Mouse, even you Elizabeth.”
“I love the way he says it, even you…” Elizabeth’s voice trailed away on a hint of laughter and everyone joined her.
Sheepishly Vincent grinned.
“Its all right Vincent do go on. I understand, thousands wouldn’t.” she smiled and patted his hand.
Vincent continued, “Things altered for Father the day that Mary went above. I do believe that he had begun to look around him and see that everyone was pairing off except him, and for the first time he noticed that there was he and Mary. Then no sooner had he thought it, and before he could do anything about it, she had gone.”
“Well she’s not coming back just to make the old guy happy.” William’s voice boomed, “Mary is happy with George.”
“I know that, but who is there for Father?”
“He had his chance Vincent. Mary spent decades hankering after that man. He just kept her waiting too long.”
“I know that William, and as you say that situation can’t be altered, neither would it do any good to set him up with someone else, no that’s not the answer at all. I don’t think romance is the answer, I think we are. Together we have to make him feel needed, even when he snaps our heads off. And he will, because right now he is like a bear with a sore head. We’ll just have to ignore that.”
“That won’t be easy. But if you think it’ll work Vincent?”
“I do.”
“If I might make a suggestion?” Everyone turned to Catherine.
“If Father is looking at travel brochures, then he is obviously missing the places above. Even if he could go and see them, there would be endless questions to answer. Like where he lives for the passport office. Then he will need money to go and his age is against him. Not only that but with his disability he couldn’t travel far. Sitting cramped in a bus for hours on end while he travels around America would do him no good at all. Exploring the world above is not what he needs, not while there are more than enough sights below to enchant him.”
“I agree with that Catherine.” Vincent replied softly, “But the same applies. If he is missing the sights above, then there are sights to behold below that are equally as stunning, but his disability would still hinder him from seeing them. Travelling to the great waterfall is just about far enough for him these days.”
“I know.” Catherine bit her lip. “But if he were to undertake a trip above there would be people trained to take care of his every need and see that he got what he paid for no matter what. Therefore couldn’t we try, couldn’t we work out a way to take him on some of the trips to the subterranean levels. Has he ever been down that far?”
“No doubt when he first arrived here he did. But I shouldn’t think he has ever seen anything like the crystal cavern.” Vincent told them.
“Arh yes the crystal cavern.” Catherine’s eyes sparkled just like those gemstones, “with its bounty of dazzling lights. How Father would love to see those colours.”
All eyes turned to her.
“Catherine it is a long and perilous journey.” Vincent began as through the bond he caught her excitement.
“And such an adventure too.” She laughed gaily. “Vincent it would be perfect if we could all go. If we took it slow and rigged up some kind of stretcher for the tough parts. We could take the children and go at their pace or if we took some more of the older ones, and carried them the same way, even if they only pretended to need it, Father wouldn’t feel so useless and he would enjoy it Vincent, you know he would.”
“He would grumble mercilessly.”
“Yes he would.”
“He’d drive us mad.”
“Yes he would.”
Vincent smiled, “You could put up with that?”
“To see him come back to us. Yes Vincent I could cope with that. And just see what he would get from it at the journey’s end. Come to that all of us. I have only been to the crystal cavern once and the children have never seen it. It would be a great adventure Vincent. What do you say?”
Catherine looked to each person sat around the table. Openly they grinned one after the other their eyes bright with excitement. “I’ve never seen it either.” Many remarked, “I’d like to do. I think the idea could work.”
Vincent’s eyes were bright with a growing excitement, “Cullen, can you make something that we could carry people on. It needs to be not only a stretcher but something capable of lowering people down shafts, and waterproof too.”
“I can make anything Vincent you know that. It might take me a couple of weeks, but no doubt the whole trip will take that to organise anyway.”
Vincent nodded, “Yes, and I think we should tell Father about it as soon as possible. No surprises or secrets, and whether he agrees to come or not, he’s going, even if we have to strap him gagged and bound to a stretcher to take him there.”
Everyone giggled at the sight that thought presented, knowing that the possibility of it occurring was more than probable.
*** *** ***
Vincent’s perception of father could not have been nearer the mark if he had wanted it. From the moment Father was told of the planned adventure he found everything he could to dissuade everyone from going, and most of all for expecting him to be a party to it.
“Over forty years I have lived here, and you think I haven’t explored every nook and cranny in that time!” he shouted at Vincent after the plan was put to him.
“There are places you couldn’t possibly have seen Father. Some were not discovered while you were capable of exploring the lower levels. There are sights to behold Father, and we would very much like to have you share them with us.”
“I’m not going. And that’s final.” Father crossed his arms, as if in defence, “And you can’t make me.”
“I shouldn’t bank on it.” Vincent whispered beneath his breath.
“What was that?” Father’s angry eyes glared at his son.
“We want you to come.”
“I’m not going.”
But everyone is going, Father please, it won’t be the same without you.”
“I don’t want to go.”
“Then you’ll be here all alone.”
“Good. Maybe then I’ll get some peace and quiet. Yes quiet, is Pascal going?”
“Yes.”
“Good no bloody tapping for five days, perfect. You lot go, leave me here, I will have a wonderful time all by myself.”
“No Father we will not go and leave you by yourself. William aims to come, if he does who will cook your meals.”
“For five days! Vincent I can surely survive on cake and biscuits, cups of tea for five days. Besides are you taking the helpers too?” He snapped.
“The helpers?”
“Yes the helpers Vincent, or have you forgotten the supplies that they bring us. If I needed anything someone would bring it to me.” Father sneered.
“And who would pass on your message?”
For a moment Father paled, “Everyone is going?”
“Yes Father everyone. It is a mass exodus to the lower levels. We are going to enjoy ourselves and have the biggest adventure ever known here below all at once.”
For a moment Father felt himself relenting, then stubbornness kicked in again; “Well I’m not going Vincent.”
Vincent tried another line of reasoning, “Why not?”
Father glared at him, steely blue eyes clashing with china blue eyes. “Because I don’t want to go off on some godforsaken adventure to the lower levels. They are cold, perilous and tiring, and I am an old man in need of home comforts that’s why.” He snapped.
Vincent shook his head, “you’re wrong.” He told his father, but before Father could reply, Vincent had exited from the chamber.
*** *** ***
Just a little over two weeks later, the final preparations were complete, and everyone was ready to embark upon their big adventure.
The children had spoken of nothing else for the whole of that time, the tunnels buzzing with it, and reluctantly Father had found himself caught up with odd snatches of the adventure, and had been peeved that no one had insisted on his going anymore. After that first and last conversation with Vincent about it, his going with them all seemed to have been forgotten.
And if father had found no consolation in his books before, he certainly got no peace from them during that two weeks of preparations. Try as he might to become absorbed, something would always be within the printed page to remind him, and so Father’s annoyance grew.
When the day of departure arrived, the excited chatter filled the tunnels to overflowing, and Father’s wrath increased, until he found himself shouting at anyone that dared to come near his chamber, until word passed to give him a wide berth. That too ruffled him somewhat. When there had been excited chatter to annoy him, he had been able to let everyone know in no uncertain terms how stupid this adventure was, and now everyone was avoiding the area of Vincent’s chamber where they had to pass by Father’s first, he found that equally annoying.
Hobbling along to the main hub with fury his only friend, Father approached the large group of tunnel dwellers assembling there at the start of their journey, with the intention of giving them all another lecture. When suddenly he felt his feet slip from under him, but instead of the crashing blow he had anticipated as he hit the floor, firm arms held him flat. And in less than the blink of an eye, he found himself harnessed to a stretcher like contraption with no way out.
“What the….” Father swore, surprising everyone that he could or would, as slowly stifled giggles erupted from the large group of adventurers.
“I demand that you set me free at once!” he rasped.
“Sorry Father.” Catherine’s face appeared from out of the crowd, “I am afraid to tell you that you are being kidnapped.”
“Kidnapped!” Father bellowed, “Let me go at once.”
“No.” a firm voice he recognised at once silenced him. And Father turned his head to the voice, not surprised to see Vincent glowering down at him. “You are coming with us Father. Like it or not.Everything is packed that you need, or will soon be now that you are out of your chamber. And you are damn well going to enjoy yourself.”
Everyone gasped, to hear Father swear something unprintable was one thing, but to hear Vincent enforce his authority in such a way was also quite astounding.
“Or what?” Father sneered. “Hum tell me that. What are you going to do with me if I refuse to come, eh?” he replied with sarcasm.
Vincent stared at him, as a soft growl issued forth, “Or I’ll eat you.” He told him unflinching.
Father and son stared at one another, defying each other to look away or comment further.
“You wouldn’t?” Father knew Vincent would never do such a thing, but there was no denying those deadly fangs when his son was angry, perhaps angry enough to do something he’d regret? Father wasn’t so certain about that anymore, as Vincent’s eyes bore down on him, and utter silence had befallen the crowd.
Father looked around him. He was held fast to the contraption, there was no escape. Every person was loaded down with some rucksack of some kind filled with everything needed, “Have you got the medical supplies?” he murmured.
Everyone nodded and their eyes brightened.
“First aid kit?” Again everyone nodded again.
Father drew in a deep breath, “Then let’s go shall we?” the huge sigh of relief that swept through the crowd made Father smile. Perhaps the whole affair wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Besides as he stole a glance in Vincent’s direction, Father grinned, it beat being eaten he thought. And Vincent stared blankly at him for long moments before grinning back.
*** *** ***
They walked for half a day, this happy group of men women and children, before Vincent felt that everyone needed a well-earned rest.
Finding a suitable spot, one he had entertained before, he helped the elderly with their packs before settling down himself to partake of some of William’s excellent tea, that had been brewed while he was busy.
Holding her own cup of steaming tea, Catherine leaned against Vincent’s thigh, his hand resting lightly upon her shoulder, with just enough firmness to make her feel protected. Not that there was any fear in the company they were with, far from it, but because he knew that she needed his closeness. Together or apart, each felt the need to be a part of the other, so much so that they would sit close whenever a situation allowed for it.
To the onlookers, this proved a source of joy. The happiness that was emanating from the pair provided delight to one and all.
For the most of the journey Father had grudgingly allowed himself to be carried on the contraption, although he had been freed from bondage at the onset of the journey, when it was presumed that he would no longer take to flight. And Father had in fact been grateful to those that had shared the burden of taking his weight. Now as he alighted from his harness, he stood and stretched, grateful that the cavern Vincent had chosen had headroom to do so.
Soon the aroma of William’s fresh bread was filling the cavern as he warmed pre-baked loaves over the fire he had built, and Father was beginning to feel rather jolly, though he wasn’t about to say so.
Looking around him, he recognised the cavern. It had been years since he had sat down within it, but he could remember it clearly.
Together he and Vincent had gone there when Vincent was a teenager not long after the Lisa incident, and the pair had spent a couple of days there in conversation and healing. As Father remembered this, he stole a look in Vincent’s direction, and caught his son watching him sombrely. Vincent’s eyes were unreadable, but Father could tell by his expression that Vincent was remembering the time every bit as he was. Father decided not to mention it.
As the fire took hold and crackled loudly, William placed a large cooking pot filled with vegetables and diced meat over it, and very soon everyone was reaching for a plate to fill with hot stew and warm soft bread.
More tea was to follow, after which everybody dutifully fed and sleepy reached for their bedrolls and smoothed them out upon the floor, one alongside the other for warmth, and Catherine busied herself placing the bedding of her children alongside the bedding of her own and Vincent’s.
Most of the other children, unused to camping out were also bringing their bedrolls closer to Vincent’s much to the chagrin of their own parents.
“It’s easy to see who figures as the tunnels protector, even in young minds.” William laughed. Vincent grinned, “they are very welcome, the closer they all get to me, the warmer I’ll be.”
Everybody laughed, but was more than happy to see Vincent place Father’s bedroll right alongside his own, as was Father. It made him feel warm and cherished inside, and as Vincent helped him over to his place, the pair caught one another’s expressions, and Father could not help remarking, “You wouldn’t really have eaten me would you Vincent?”
Vincent stifled a grin, and tried to look serious, “That’s for me to know and you to worry about.” He told his father sternly, making everyone giggle again.
That first night, after the last candle had burned low, and its dying wick flickered no more, the darkness crept back over the huddled people upon the floor, outlined only by the withering embers of the log fire.
Though all of the children were fast asleep a few of the adults stared up at the roof of the cavern, their ears straining to pick out sounds that only the absolute darkness can bring, hearing things normally overridden by other sounds.
From somewhere distant, the gentle drip of water could be heard, and William listening intently to the sound found himself singing softly, much to the surprise of the others. “Drip, drip, drip little April showers. La lala la lala la lala la. Drip drip drip, little April showers, la lala la lala la lala la.”
“What’s with the la la?” Pascal nudged him in the side.
“I can’t remember the words.” William laughed softly, but you remember it surely.”
“Can’t say I do.”
“It’s from one of those Disney films.” Cullen murmured sleepily, though why Will’s suddenly thought of it beats me.”
“That’s why then, I’ve never watched a film in my life.” Pascal replied somewhat sadly.
“I’m sorry I never thought.” William ventured.
“That’s okay. But anyway, what brought on the song?”
“That trickle of water, can’t you hear it?”
“Not now. I could before you broke into song, it was edging me to sleep.”
“I didn’t feel tired before but I guess I do now!"
“You should sleep.” Came a soft voice from one side of the cavern, “We’ve a long way ahead tomorrow. You will need your rest.”
“Ever the pessimist Vincent.” William groaned good naturedly, “but I guess you’re right, sorry we woke you.”
“That’s all right. Good night.”
“Goodnight Vincent.” Each chorused. Nonetheless it was some time before William finally gave into the demands of his body, taking pleasure as he was in all the little precious sounds dancing around him that he had never really noticed before.
To be concluded in part two.
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