Masopher and the child
This vignette is inspired by Kalil Gibran’s Garments. I will be doing more of these as time goes on.
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“What is your name boy?” Masopher growled.
“Gibran sir”, the youth replied in Arabic, still unafraid.
The stiff Mediterranean breeze played over the pair as they watched a turtle hobble along the rocky Tyrian beach. The demon had rested there but for a moment in time when he was confronted by a boy in a bathing suit.
“Do you know who I am boy?” Masopher spoke in kind.
The child shook his head, no.
“And do you know what I am, boy,” the demon bared his unnaturally white teeth.
You are djinn, like what my da has told me, a wild spirit of the world. You are part of they that refused to bow before Adam as Allah commanded.
“Brave and intelligent,” Masopher grumbled, impressed. “Never since the Alexander himself have I met a boy who would face a demon and speak so eloquently.”
The boy was slight, barely over 10 years old and quite frail yet alert and curious. His skin was tanned and smooth eyes innocent and alive with questions and hope.
“And why do you not fear me young Gibran? Have you not heard of what demons can do?”
“I need only invoke the power of Allah and name of Christ and you will be vanquished” the boy answered honestly.
Masopher let out such a harsh bark that even the youth flinched at its sound. The laugh echoed out to sea and among the ancient ruins along the coast. Masopher would not spoil the child’s fantasy, for he sensed a destiny in the young man that was told by his imagination and faith.
“Very brave and intelligent” Masopher repeated instead. “Where are your parents?”
“My ma is down the beach,” the child pointed, “and my da….he’s not here.” The child looked sad with that. Syria had seen many children lose parents and parents lose children and though Masopher rarely cared he did not wish to rid himself of this interesting little man who had so bravely walked up to him and disturbed his musing.
“Who is this other little boy, Alexander?” The boy asked.
“Ah..Alexander, he is but dust and a legend now. The causeway you see stretching out in the distance was built by him.”
“Da said it was built by giants”, the boy interrupted.
“But Alexander was a giant,” the demon replied smilingly, “he was a giant so tall that one of his steps reached from here to Babylon, and his next step would take him to far Herat”. The boy’s eyes grew wide at this.
“And you knew him?”
The demon’s large teeth grinned again.
Masopher and the boy say for hours as the demon spoke of prophets and madmen and how near-identical they were. The boy listened with keen attention seemingly forgetful of how impious demons could be.
“Where is your Ma, young Gibran?” Masopher asked suddenly with a grin, “she has begun to worry.”
The sun was beginning to set and the distant wails of Gibran’s mother and sisters had subsided into sobs. The boy looked up startled, so enthralled was he that he did not hear what the keen ears of the demon picked up. While Masopher had regaled the boy about ancient battles, his family had searched keenly and then franticly for him.
“Don’t worry”, Masopher laughed pouncing upon a large turtle toddling past. We will just tell them that you were catching this.
“But…”the boy began.
“Fear not, I will remain hidden”.
And the boy was swept up in the demons arms as borne swiftly to his mother.
“Gibran Kahlil Gibran bin Mikhael bin Saâd” his mother bawled seeing the boy appear suddenly in the dusk. So distraught was she that most of her clothes still lay crumpled by the nearby rocks. The women had bathed carefree until Khamila suddenly realized that Khalil was missing. She had flown unashamedly from the waves searching hither and thither for her beloved boy. She was a handsome woman but her efforts to hold her family together drew lines of worry and care across her temples. “Never do that to me again my son,” she scolded lovingly, holding his face.
“How could you be so cruel?” Gibran’s aunt’s joined in. At the sight of the supposedly hidden demon, one of the youngest girls’ eye’s grew wide and she gave a stifled cry. Masopher gave the terrified tot a flash of his inhuman teeth. He then chuckled and gave the boy a final invisible wink before parting.
After fussing over the child for a few minutes more the women looked about them to gather their clothes to them for the trip back to the home of Khalil’s uncle in Beirut. But their clothes were nowhere to be seen! In all the commotion Masopher had stolen them and replaced them with canvas bags and flotsam. Their fine garments, some of the few possessions that they still held proud were gone forever. With burning cheeks they made their way back with the bewildered little boy in tow. The stories, the djinn’s shark-like smile, the missing garments; had he dreamt it all on a hot midsummer’s day?
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August 8th, 2008 at 2:05 am #Drone
Very Nice.