How I Came to Haunt My Parents

by Natalee Caple

  The dolphin, who had returned to check on his foolish charge, swam beneath the body of the unconscious creature, raised him up to the surface and carried him, not quite dead, to the shore. At the shore he deposited the soggy dog on a sandbar and left to see how many times he could leap out of the water before the crimson sky faded to black.

  The little dog awoke beneath a vast array of stars.

  “I am alive!” he cried. “You see I must have turned into a dolphin and swum to shore and then turned back into a dog. Now I will take my vast knowledge of dolphins forward to the other dogs so that they too might have adventures in the middle of the ocean!”

  Sympathy is not biology.

  The Farmer and the Crane

  SOME CRANES ALIGHTED ON A field and began to eat the grain growing there. The farmer who had sown the field, upon looking out of the window of his house, became enraged. But the farmer’s child was confused.

  “Daddy,” said the little girl. “Why are you angry? The birds are hungry and we have so much grain.”

  The farmer did not want to shoot at the birds in front of his daughter and so he ran out of the house, waving his arms and shouting. He chased the cranes away from his grain. The next day the cranes alighted again, this time with several new cranes in their company.

  “Daddy,” said the farmer’s daughter. “There is a lovely party going on in our field!”

  The farmer grabbed his shotgun and showed his daughter that it was empty and charged into the field and pointed the gun at the birds and yelled, “Bang, bang, bang!” This time the birds did not fly off, but began to laugh and clutch their full bellies and laughed some more. Discouraged, the farmer trudged back to his house and ate dinner with his child and read stories to her by the fire and tucked her into bed and got into bed himself and dreamed very happy dreams.

  On the third day the sky darkened with cranes and the noise they made descending into the field was like no other the farmer ever heard. Terrified by what seemed to him to be an apocalyptic vision, he hid his child in the cellar and he stripped down to his pants and walked bare-chested into the melee with his arms held out before him, pretending to be a zombie and hoping against hope that cranes were afraid of the undead. As he moved through the bustling crowd the birds began to coo, more like doves than cranes. A path appeared before him where the cranes stepped aside. The path led to the center of the field and there stood a beautiful woman dressed in a coat of white feathers.

  “What the hell is going on?” the farmer begged to know.

  She smiled and opened her mouth and spoke in trills and chirps. At last she finished and threw off her coat and opened a pair of great silvery wings. She rushed up to the farmer and embraced him, and then pecked his cheek. The woman and all the cranes flew away together in a cloud of music. The farmer returned to his home and began to search in the telephone directory for the address of a local real estate agent.

  The cranes did not return and the farmer chose to keep his farm. Every season the field grew more and more lush and his crops became famous for their extraordinary quality. The farmer’s daughter grew into a lovely and cheery young woman who left home at seventeen to study ornithology at university. After some time she married a lovely serious man who knew almost as much about birds as she did. On their wedding night she told him about the cranes.

  “That could never have happened,” he said. “You must have dreamed it.”

  Life is under no obligation to make sense to the living.

  The Ant’s Revenge

  AN ANT WENT DOWN TO the banks of the Seine to quench his thirst. A young child kneeled by the bank trailing a branch in the water and speaking to herself in hushed tones. A dog passed behind the two of them and whispered to the ant, “Why don’t you sting her and make her fall into the water as revenge for all the homes stomped on and boiled out and poisoned? How many of your children have her parents destroyed? Why don’t you sting her and take one child for the hundreds lost?”

  “You are right,” said the ant. “I will sting her and take my revenge!”

  And he snuck up beside her, crawled upon her soft hand and stung her with all his might. The little girl cried out, shook the ant from her hand, stepped on him and crushed his little life into the paving stones. Her dog licked her hand and pressed against her.

  “Oh, my sweet dog. Always taking care of me. I love you,” the little girl said. She rubbed his ears and scratched his chin and kissed him.

  Consider the source.

  Love’s Limits

  “MY DARLING,” SAID THE LOVER. “Shall I compare thee to the morning outside our window? You are as refreshing and bright.”

  “My love,” said the other lover. “Shall I compare thee to our faithful hound who warms us with his love and never errs in feeling?”

  “My darling,” said the lover. “Shall I compare thee to the bed on which we lie? Thou art soft and comforting at night.”

  “My love,” said the other lover. “Shall I compare thee to the infant who draws forth my sighs with her great innocence?”

  “My darling, shall I compare thee to the journey of life? Thou art so full of laughter and of tears.”

  “My love, shall I compare thee to a book of great literature? Thou doth contain as many brilliant thoughts.”

  “Iwis, my darling! Shall I compare thee to thy mother?"

  The sound of a pistol firing interrupted the lover.

  Quit while you are ahead.

  Liars in the Land of Crows

  THREE LIARS TRAVELING ON HORSEBACK arrived together in the land of crows. The largest crow, who was the size of a dog, commanded that the liars be seized and thrown into the deep freezer with the other meat. The liars shivered between the long bloody flanks of beef hanging all around them like relatives at a particularly tragic funeral. Finally, the door opened and a group of crows waddled into the freezer and escorted the liars out and down a long hallway and through a large entrance into a ballroom where their leader waited. Seated beside the giant crow was a young lioness.

  “Tell me what you see,” commanded the crow of the liars.

  One liar was pushed forward by the other two.

  “I see a great man, beloved by all. Beside him I see a loyal and loving wife. Around him I see his followers, a great people, strong and brilliant and prepared to lead the world in philosophy, science, and the arts.”

  The lioness roared. The walls shook.

  “Tell me what you see,” the crow demanded of the next liar.

  This time the two who had not spoken looked at each other and shrugged. One stepped forward on his own. “I see God and his angels personified in the refined majesty of Your Honor and his kingdom.”

  “Nice,” said the crow. “Tell me what you see,” he said quietly to the last liar.

  “I see my life flashing like a film on rewind behind my eyes. I see my mother and how she loved me. I see all the people I lied to and cheated and the looks on their faces when they discovered how I had betrayed them. I see the person that I could have been and how much time I have wasted trying to keep my lies straight. I see the little I have gained and the magnitude of what I have lost. I see that you will kill me when I finish speaking and yet I am unable to continue.”

  The lioness stepped down from her seat beside the crow and sauntered to the side of the last liar.

  “Tell me what you hear,” she said, breathing hotly into his ear. Her hard whiskers scraped his neck as she turned her giant head.

  “I hear my heart, which I fear is about to fail me. I hear a buzzing in my ears, which I think is my brain crying. I hear how my friends have caught their breath. I hear you purring and your feet pacing. I hear the crows gossiping behind me. I hear the air in my ears and my eyelashes fluttering. I hear the end of my life approaching.”

  “Tell me what you feel,” said the lioness, licking her long fangs.

  “
For God’s sake, eat me or maul me or let me go, but don’t play with me any longer!” cried the liar. “I am a weak man. I am a liar. I don’t know what to say to you because I don’t know what lie you want from me!”

  “You can go,” said the crow.

  The liar ran as fast as he could out of the ballroom and as far away as he could get from the crows, the lioness and the other liars.

  The crow turned back to the two liars who were now shaking in each other’s embrace.

  “I can take your eyes and tongues and you can leave here now. Or you can keep your eyes that only see how to manipulate opportunity and your tongues that only twist the truth. And for every lie that you have told over the course of your life you can work another day as my slave, digging when I tell you to dig, dragging what I tell you to drag. But if you ever speak another lie your penance will be over and my lioness will eat you.”

  The liars agreed immediately to keep their eyes and tongues. A slave or a laborer they might be to the end of their days, but they were happy to abandon freedom in order to live and be whole. And so, for years the liars worked. In order to protect themselves they never spoke again, fearing that lies might issue forth unbidden. The crows were cruel, but they were honest. They never injured or threatened the liars again. Time passed with excruciating slowness. Eventually the liars lay down and died as old, old men. They had been long since forgotten by their victims. Life had gone on without them.

  The liar who escaped visited their graves only once. He shuddered to think of them. His own life had been much improved by that rush of honesty provoked by his certainty that he would die in the court of crows. He had transformed and become a kind and honest person. Life was much easier than he had ever imagined it would be and full of rewards. When he died he was in a hospital and his wife, his children, his grandchildren, and many friends were at his side. It was a beautiful day and he felt loved.

  In the long run the easier you make it to live with yourself, the more free time you have.

  Monkey Prince

  A PRINCE TRAINED A TROUPE of monkeys to dress as courtiers and dance at his birthday ball. The monkeys endured weeks of dance lessons until they were more graceful than the Moscow ballet. They preened before the mirrors in their silk jackets and gold-buttoned trousers. The night of the prince’s birthday they enjoyed hours of applause. They devoured cake and sipped champagne and chattered with the lovely lords and ladies. They went to bed in sequined pajamas under sheets so soft they were like summer breezes.

  In the morning the prince sent the monkeys to the local zoo in cages full of prickly hay. For days they refused to eat the brown pieces of banana pushed through the bars at them or drink from the muddy bowls of water. They asked for the prince. They asked for a lawyer. They asked for the people who had seen them dance. After a month of living like animals one monkey took his own life by attacking a guard and so forcing the zoo officials to inject him with poison.

  The monkeys began to organize. One day, when a crowd stood outside their cage they began to dance. They danced and they danced and they danced while the crowds cheered and threw coins and hats and feathers and handkerchiefs to them in appreciation. At last they bowed. The zookeeper opened the cage to bring them a platter of fine foods purchased by the happy zoo visitors as a treat. The monkeys fled the cage at once and stole all the bicycles lined up in the parking lot. A long line of monkeys pedaled madly to the palace. At the palace they broke a window and invaded. The prince was easily overcome by their sharp bites and scratches. They locked him in a cage and showered and dressed in his clothes. The sleeves of his shirts were long and his crowns slipped over their eyes or fell about their necks. But the servants obeyed them with the same deference they had shown their human master. After some time the monkeys formed a government that was virtually indistinguishable from the previous government except for the absence of humans (dispatched to the zoo) and the new tradition of drinking champagne with one’s feet.

  Oppressors design their own oppression.

  The Robot in the Hobo Jungle

  A ROBOT ESCAPED FROM HER masters and ran to the city of boxes by the river. Beneath a bridge she found a softened, wet box that did not have a person in it and she lay down to gather her thoughts. In the night she realized that she had no oil for her joints and no electricity to recharge her body and mind. By running away she had secured a quick demise for herself. Because she was afraid to show her body to the people moving about the city of boxes she fashioned a cloak from newspapers and she gathered the cloak tightly around her.

  Near the river several people were gathered around a barrel in which a fire raged against its own containment. She did not dare go too close to the fire for fear that her cloak would catch and her true self would be revealed. So she called to the people from the shadows, knowing that the brightness of the fire would keep them blind.

  “Do you live here?” she asked. “Is there any electricity?”

  Three faces rotated towards her, that of a man and two women, all dirty, and exhausted.

  “Who are you?” the man said in a voice that was the growl of dirty gears.

  “I’m a stranger. I’m lost,” said the robot.

  “Why do you need electricity? Who sent you to us for that?”

  “No one sent me. I told you: I’m very lost.”

  “We’re all lost,” said the man and he turned his back on the robot.

  After a few minutes one of the women shuffled away from the fire and came up to the robot. As she approached, the robot shied, moving further into the shadows. The woman held out a cup. The silver breath of steam wafting up from the tea caught the weak light of the fire and it struck the robot as a very beautiful sight.

  “They’re afraid of you,” the woman said. “If you need electricity then you must own something.”

  “I don’t,” said the robot. “I have never owned anything.”

  “Let me see your face,” said the woman.

  The robot paused, and in that pause she realized that to be unknown was a death for her. She lifted the cowl of her cloak very slightly and leaned towards the woman to show the dimming light of her mechanical eyes. The woman smiled.

  “Look,” she said.

  All around the robot, electric eyes began to light.

  “We have what you need,” said the woman.

  Help each other.

  The Jellyfish and the Anaconda

  A JELLYFISH AND AN ANACONDA found themselves stranded on a sandbar together. To pass the time they discussed which of the two was the more deadly.

  “Are you kidding?” scoffed the anaconda. “I can crush a tiger.”

  “Yes, but one tiny sting from me and even an elephant would fall down in torment and die a painful death in hours.”

  “There are no elephants in South America,” said the anaconda.

  “And you were never a giant,” said the jellyfish.

  The two bragged and debated well into the night. In the morning the sun rose and the jellyfish, desiccated and miserable, gave in and admitted that he thought the anaconda the more fearsome of the two.

  “Thank you,” said the anaconda and he slipped into the water carrying the jellyfish back in with his tail.

  “You are welcome,” said the jellyfish as he swam to the side of the anaconda and stung him to death.

  Never trust a statement obtained under duress.

  The Independent Sheep and the Lion Full of Instinct

  A SHEEP WHO HAD NEVER wanted to follow broke away from her flock one sunny afternoon and set off across the hills and into the forest alone. By coincidence a lion escaped from a traveling zoo and made her way into the same forest. Each of the two creatures were happily exploring the trees and winding paths of the forest when suddenly they came upon each other.

  “Well, this is awkward,” said the sheep.

  The lion sighed as she felt her old instincts
rise and she knew she would have to kill the sheep and eat it because that is what she was made to do.

  “Talk quickly,” said the lion. “Give me good reason to spare you.”

  “I would like to,” said the sheep. “But I can’t think straight.”

  “Tell me that you are another lion in sheep’s clothing or that you are a poison sheep. Promise me that you will lead me back to your flock and if I spare you I will have the warm bodies of a dozen in your place.”

  “What was that first one?” said the sheep.

  “Tell me that a witch has enchanted you and if I eat you I will become a sheep.”

  “It’s not such a bad life except for this part,” said the sheep.

  “Listen! If you don’t tell me something then I will eat you because I am a lion and my gut is rumbling just looking at you.”

  “Well, why don’t you close your eyes,” suggested the sheep. “Close your eyes and when you fall asleep I will leave and you can wake up and go about terrorizing other fluffy animals.”

  “Alright, I’ll try,” said the lion.

  And she closed her eyes. The sheep, seeing that the lion was having difficulty keeping her eyes closed, sang a lullaby about counting all your relatives to help ease the lion into slumber. At long last the lion fell over, fast asleep, and lay snoring by a Saskatoon berry bush. The sheep, having sung for hours and now picturing all the sweet black faces of her family, felt deeply relaxed. I will just lie down here for a minute to rest and then I will escape, she thought. The ground was very hard and the lion looked very soft so after a few minutes of rolling and complaining and adjusting herself the sheep went and lay against the lion and fell instantly to sleep.

  In her sleep the lion imagined a world where sheep and lions slept together in a bed with great big pillows and then woke and ate strawberries and drank cream. She had been very tired and so she slept a long, long time. The dream became elaborate until she could smell the scent of sleeping sheep and hear the sounds of sheep snoring and she felt deeply at peace with herself. For her part, the sheep dreamed of a life of adventure, exploring forests and jungles alike with a lion by her side to protect her. Finally, the lion and the sheep awoke at once.