The Traveler’s Tall Tale (Part 2)

Cerpen Karangan: R. Safir

Kategori: Cerpen Bahasa Inggris
Lolos moderasi pada: 18 May 2021

“But why Chadwick was so filthy?” Rowan asked the storyteller yet again. He was still in the same
position in his brother’s arms, but his eyes were drowsier than before.
Modred smiled rather exasperatedly at the child. Little children tend to ask a lot, indeed.
“Well, what do you think young sir?” he asked instead.
Rowan frowned, deep in thought. A moment later he answered with small voice,
“Um, he fell?”
Modred chuckled quietly; his sunken eyes glinted with amusement.
“Oh-ho! Good guess young sir!” he exclaimed, “good guess, indeed.”
Rowans sleepy face lit up at the praise and he gave the old man gap-toothed grin of his own. Ash
felt something akin of sharp tug in his heart. His brother never had a father figure in his life.
“You are right in a sense that Chadwick fell into something.” The storyteller attention then back to
his audience, “like I said in the beginning, the group camped near a marsh. That marsh was where
our Chadwick headed, but instead of brought some water, he drowned in it.”

When my father, Will and finally Chadwick came back to their camp, all of their friends were
already there. All of them were curious about what had befallen to their friend.
“So, where did you find him?” Fjold asked when they all sat rather comfortably around their little
campfire. My father and Will had cleaned Chadwick as best as they could. At the moment the man
was huddled with all the blankets they could spare, still shivering even with all the blankets and
fire.
“We didn’t really find him,” Will said, “but rather he found us.”
Jack, ever the curious, asked for detail, “How so?”
“He stumbled on our way from here,” this time my father answered him, “soaked and covered in
dirt he was. Mumbling about Meredith,”
“Who is Meredith?” Alfred inquired from his position near a log.
“His wife,”
“I thought his wife’s name is Heather,”
“Meredith was-“
“My first wife,” a new voice said.

Everyone looked at the hunched and trembling figure by the fire. Chadwick who refused to talk
finally found his voice again.
“She died years ago,” he continued with trembling voice, “lost in the Rhun river cold stream. But I
saw her tonight, I saw Meredith.”

And that was it. Chadwick refused to say no more. He just sat by the fire, gazed at something only
he could see, all night. By the first light in the next day, Chadwick was on his feet, fully clothed
and ready to go home. There were no laughter and joy in their journey back, just silence and quiet
talks.

Chadwick had changed. He was no longer the merry and courageous man they once knew. He
became more quiet and reserved. He still refused to talk about what happened to him in the Bleak
Forest that night and he no longer partook in hunting trip. He distanced himself from any kind of
marsh and suddenly had great dislike toward water lilies. Until, one Midsummer Eve years later, he
told my father about what happened to him;

“I was walking toward the small stream we saw earlier that day in the forest when I heard it.” He
began, “I heard a familiar voice, full of despair, calling my name.
I thought it was one of you, but soon I realized it was a woman’s voice. I hastened my pace,
hopping to help as fast as I could. The voice grew louder and I knew then that I was close. But the
closer I heard the voice, my feet were no longer mine to control. They found their own way toward
the voice and there, in the marsh full of blooming water lilies under the pale moonlight, I saw her.
I saw Meredith sobbed with her face in her hands, kept calling my name.
I felt a great sorrow in my heart and intangible desire to come to her, comfort her somehow. So I
did, I reached a hand toward her.” Here Chadwick shuddered, like he was remembering something
horrible.
“When my fingers barely touched her trembling shoulder, he turned her face at me. She was so
pale, so sad, and so hurt. But above all were her eyes. Her eyes, Herman!” the now old Chadwick
exclaimed with pained voice.
“They are so empty and lifeless, staring at nothing, not even I who stood there right in front of
her. Like corpse’s eyes. Then she accused that I left her, I left her to die she said. I should have
known then, that she was not my Meredith. My sweet Meredith would never say that to me, but
my mind was fogged and my limbs moved on their own will.
Abruptly, her tone changed as well as her demeanor. She turned from outraged to inviting in mere
seconds and she said all was well now and it’s not too late for me to be with her again. And so I
obeyed, I said that I would never leave her alone anymore. Before I knew it, I was already chest
deep in the water and her thin arms were around me, embracing me tightly.” Chadwick hands
were trembling when he continued his tale. His eyes shone with unshed tears.
“Slowly she dragged me lower and lower toward the cold and murky water of the marsh. Her grip
became tighter and tighter and my mind drifted away. When my head was no longer in the air and
water began to flood my lungs, all of a sudden I remembered Heather.

I remembered the happy days with her under the sun and breezy summer. How warm her hands
were and how her beautiful hazel eyes sparkle with love within. And of my little Edgar, whose
laugh like merry bell and tittering steps brought us joy. And my promise to them, my promise to
come back to them.

Their memories and my promise gave me strength and I struggled under the water and the tight
embrace. I managed to break up to the surface but she wouldn’t let me go. The creature I thought
was my long lost love was clawing at my leg and my tunic. I tried to kick it away but it managed
to make its way to the surface as well, gripping painfully on my shoulder. And right then I had a
better look toward my captor; under the moonlight I could see its features more clearly,”
Chadwick’s body was trembling and his eyes were fearful when he told my father about this
creature that had deceived him many years ago.

“It had pale grey skin like decaying body and smelled as foul, tangled and dirty greenish flaxen
long hair, claw like fingers and sharp teeth,” he shuddered again “its eyes were big, so big they
reached the creature’s sunken cheeks. The eyes were grey in colour, bulbous and glassy like dead
fish’s eyes! I couldn’t scream, I couldn’t tear my gaze away but I forced myself to scramble away
from that thing. I desperately made my way to the water edge, swimming, crawling, running, I no
longer cared nor did I heed where I went. I just needed to distance myself from the filthy creature
that no doubt wanted to feast on my flesh. So I ran, I ran until my feet could no longer felt the
soft muddy land of the marsh.

I escaped, Herman. I escaped from the monster’s clutch but I am not really free. I still remember
its wail echoed through the marsh and trees around it. Even after so many years, sometimes I can
still hear its shrill voice keeps calling and wailing deep in the night.” Then Chadwick looked at my
old man dead in the eyes and said urgently;
“Tell your friends and family to stay away from that accursed place, Herman!” he plead, “Please, I
beg you! Now I have the courage to tell this horrible tale, you must let no one meet the same fate
as I.”
And so Herman did.

“Da told the story to anyone who would listen. Alas, not all of them were taken it too seriously.
Some even said that Chadwick was rather ticked off after that hunting trip. Mayhap, the poor man
got nasty blow on the head or so they kept saying. People heed not his warning, but when a man
disappeared two years later in the same place, an old tale began to emerge.” The grey haired
storyteller told his partly dozing and partly enchanted audience. Rowan had long since lost his
battle against sleep, but his elder brother was still listening.

“One day, a very old fellow named Greg told a story his great grandfather had told him; a legend
about a monster in a marsh in the southern side of Bleak Forest. According to Greg’s grandfather,
in the older days there was only one large marsh in the Bleak Forest and one should not come to
said marsh under any circumstance when the sun had set. But now days, there are many marshes
in the southern side of the forest and nobody knows which one is dangerous or mayhap, all of the
marsh are dangerous. Because like the legend said, no one (except Chadwick that is, if his story
was true) ever escaped the monster’s clutch and live to tell the tale.” Modred finished his tale with
one of his gap-toothed grins.

“That’s it?” one of the audience asked Modred, disbelief and skeptical was plain in his voice.
“Yes my good sir, it is indeed the end of this story, “the storyteller, unfazed, told the weathered
red haired man. He was Pelinore, one of the brothers’ neighbours from Hawick. Pelinore was never
one to believe such vague tales and only believed what he saw.
“Now, I believe is time for us to retire for the night,” Pelinore said after a spell, giving a pointed
stare at the brothers. “Unless you are on the first guard for tonight,” he added, “which I am.”

Everyone then trudged back to their selected grounds to retire for the night. Ash had to carry his
little brother to where their blankets had laid. After some maneuvering and adjusting (Rowan was
sleeping soundly through all of these), the brothers finally found comfortable position to sleep.

Unfortunately, unlike the little boy, sleep didn’t come as easily for the elder brother. Ash was wide
awake, even after almost all of the company had settled and nothing could be heard other than
night creatures and quiet conversation of the camp guards. He found himself wondered whether
Modred’s story was true or just a tall tale to scare children. The latter might be more possible, but
he could not help it. He kept mulling over the story in his head, his fingers absentmindedly
combed through Rowan’s soft locks.

Ash jerked awake. He didn’t realize that he had fallen asleep. Something awoken him. He glanced
at the little figure on his right side and found his brother slept peacefully. He focused to his
surrounding and found nothing out of ordinary. The elder brother tried to sleep again but couldn’t.
There is something out there, beyond the darkness and grey trees, calling him.
“Must be my imagination,”

He muttered aloud and closed his eyes only to open them once more. There was certainly
something or perhaps someone who called him. The voice was so far and faint, it barely reached
his ears but somehow he could hear it clearly;
“Ash…”
It was calling his name.
Ash sat up straight on his blankets and looked around once again. His brother remained
undisturbed and most of the company was asleep as well.

“Ash…” He heard it again. The voice was achingly familiar but Ash dare not believe it was her
voice. He could not bear it, yet he heard it again. Deep in the night, through the rustling of
branches and leaves it mournfully wailed his name.
“…my boy…” the voice was clearer and somehow closer and Ash’s walls crumbled.
“Ma?” the young man whispered. It was impossible but somehow she was here and Ash wanted-
no- needed to see her.
“Ash… come here my dear boy…” like a good son that he was, Ash stood and begun to go the
direction of the voice; to answer his mother call.

Cerpen Karangan: R. Safir