The Traveler’s Tall Tale (Part 3)

Cerpen Karangan: R. Safir

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

The young man walked toward the darkness, through trees and shrubs. He heed not anything else
but his mother’s voice. She needed him and he missed her so much. Ash continued to walk toward
the voice even though there was nagging feeling in the back of his mind. There was something
important about his mother that he had forgotten. But for the time being he didn’t care. He just
wanted his mother; he needed her now more than anything else.

“Ma,” Ash said louder than before, feet kept walking without care.
“Ma!”
Now the grieving boy was shouting. He ran through the dark, blind and deaf to anything but his
mother’s visage in his mind and her voice guiding him; calling his name. As his legs brought him
faster and faster, his heart beat in tandem. Ahead he could see glimpses of water lilies under dim
light of crescent moon.

“Ash…” the voice grew louder and Ash knew he was near.
“MA! MA!” he kept running and calling back. His feet gained speed he never knew had. There was
great sorrow in his heart yet happiness seemed to suffocate him. It left him breathless in his bliss.

In a few feet in front of him Ash could see a marsh. Grassy and moist lands full of blooming water
lilies and many bushes with little flowers. The marsh looked serene and peaceful. It was perfect
place for reunion with beloved ones. A perfect place to meet his mother again.

Ash’ booted feet sank a little on the muddy ground but he hardly noticed it. He kept running until
he saw her. The boy abruptly stopped, his eyes were wide with wonder. There, not far away from
where he stood someone was seated on a rock; half hidden among the lilies but he could see her.
For it was a ‘she’, he could made out her slender back, narrow shoulders and familiar flowing
brown hair with red ribbon under the moonlight. He could hardly breathe.
“MA!” with a shout the boy leapt gracelessly toward the figure he believed was his mother. But he
never made it; for a strong hand grabbed the boy from behind.

“What are you doing, lad?!” the person asked incredulously to the struggling youngster in his
arms. “What were you thinking running and shouting like that in the middle of the night, in the
foreign forest no less?!”
Ash, who still fought and tried to escape from the person, answered with hoarse voice; “Let me
go! I want to see my Ma!”
The man stared bemusedly, “Your Ma is gone, lad.” He said quietly yet stern.
“NO! She is here! I saw her! I want her! I want to be with Ma!” Ash cried desperately, struggling
and clawing at his captor. “MA!”
The arms drew Ash closer to strong yet warm chest. The boy wept into the captor’s coarse clothes,
sobbing with desperate plea for his mother.
“Shh, it’s okay, let it out lad,”

Ash couldn’t help the loud sob that escaped his throat. His heart hurt so much it burned like
molten metal. The pain pierced through his flesh and bones and made tears of despair flooding
and spilling out of his eyes. He had buried this grief for far too long.

For months he had not shed a single tear. He had been solemn and stoic throughout their mother’s
funeral. He had responsibility to uphold as the eldest. So he carried on like everybody had
expected him to be. Like an adult supposed to be. A sixteen years old boy who barely in his
adulthood forced to carry such a heavy burden. And he did able to contain his sorrow, until
tonight.

“I hear her voice..” the young lad sobbed, “I hear her calling for me.”
Pellinore, for it was he who saw Ash running, rubbed his back soothingly. He knew his young
neighbor was grieving. He could see the pain and sorrow in his eyes even though the lad tried to
hide it. It made his heart hurt as well; to see a young soul so tortured and despaired. It was hard
and tedious matters, grieving. Sometimes one could cope with it as easily as breathing sometimes
one could barely acknowledge it at all. More so that was, with someone so young.
“I know, I know,”, Pellinore said soothingly. He patted the boy’s back, hoping it would ease some
of his sadness. “Cry it out, Ash. There is no shame in your tears.” He urged gently. Feeling his
shoulder slowly became damp from Ash’ tears.
“But she’s here…” the lad whispered brokenly, “why can’t I meet her? Why Pellinore? I only want
to see her again…”
And the tears began anew. Mournful muffled sound that disturbed the silent night.

“Will the pain ever disappear?”

Ash asked quietly beside his older companion as they walked side by side.
After he had ceased his tears, Pellinore gently trudged him back to their camp. The boy and the
man had stayed silent since. Lost in their own minds.
“No,” Pellinore answer was equally quiet, as if he didn’t want to disturb the silence. “It will not.”
“The pain will be with you, always.” The elder said as he turned to glance at the young man. Little
could be seen, however, save for vague shape of a human and blurry face in the dark grey forest.
“But,” Pellinore added with unseen sad smile, “when you learn how to cherish her memories
instead of mourning them, you will feel the pain lessen in time.”
“You will remember her with more ease and bliss. Her name will bring you smile not tears.”
Ash’ glistening grey eyes were not unseen even in the darkness. His grief was fresh, he couldn’t
just let go of his sadness yet.
“But what if I never could? What if my sadness should never ceased?”
A large and calloused hand clasped the slender shoulder, gave it a gentle squeeze.
“You will, Ash.” said Pellinore. “But, if you found yourself inasmuch sorrow ‘til you longed for
death, this you should remember lad;
“You do not suffer alone; there are others who feel the same. Your mother was loved by many.”

Pellinore halted his steps and so did Ash. They were upon their camp. Murmuring conversation
could be heard from where they were standing. They were but a few feet away from the fire dim
illumination. The older man turned to regard the boy.

“Sometimes, when we dwell on the past too much we tend to forget about the present.
Sometimes, we forgot that someone may depend on us. Someone may need us.”
“Remember; here and now”

As though dark curtain had been lifted from his heart, Ash understood then. His gaze wandered to
the camp, where someone was lying in a bundle of old blankets, his little brother. He was a sweet
albeit a bit mischievous little brown haired boy whose life was tied to him. Someone who shared
his sadness and dreadful fate. Someone that he needed to care for.
Rowan needed him.

“Where have you been, lad? Running in the dark and scared the life out of everyone in here.”
In his realization, Ash unconsciously walked the short distance to their camp with Pellinore and
soon found himself surrounded by many concerned adults. Modred, in his grey haired wrinkled
faced gap-toothed self, was among them.
The lad was about to answer the question when Pellinore, as he ever the blunt one, seized the
opportunity to put a blame on the story teller.
“It is entirely your fault!” said he in frosty tone and accusing glare. Modred recoiled.
“What d’ye mean, man?”
Pellinore’s glare intensified as he put his hands on his hips, feet in wide stance, ready for battle.
“You fed him that ridiculously nasty tall tale of yours!” shouted Pellinore, lost all decorum and
restrain. “Why, the lads are grieving you old fool! And what did you do? You pushed him to
desperation venture under influence of that obviously false story!”
Modred looked rather red in the face.

“Now, see here sir,” the old story teller said crossly, “I only told the folks what they want to hear.
They wanted terrifying story, aye? So I gave them one. Besides my story isn’t a tall tale as you
so-“
Ash tuned out the rest of the argument and discreetly trudging back to his blankets. He settled
himself beside his slumbering brother. The little boy hadn’t noticed a thing and stayed asleep
peacefully.
The older brother laid there and watched his baby brother serene face, lost in thought. His mind
wandered to what had happened to his conversation with Pellinore.
“Someone needs me,” Ash whispered softly. His eyelids became so heavy and his grip tightened
around his little brother.
“My brother needs me.”, he breathed out before sleep claimed him.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Rowan pouted.

His brother merely glanced at him, face devoid of emotions. Their company had resumed the
journey, and so the brothers were back on the moving wagon. Rocking and swaying to Glasgow.
“You slept like a log. Even if I poured water to your face you would have rolled over to resume
your slumber.” Ash said solemnly. They both knew it was true.
“I would not!”
“You would.”
Rowan pouted some more. His brows scrunched down in deviance and he mumbled something
inaudible.

“What was that?”

“You are stupid.” Said the little devil brother, glaring at his elder.
Ash face turned a little shade of red, eyes glinting dangerously.
“You are walking on a really thin ice, brat.”
Rowan answer was sticking his tongue out to his irate brother.
“That’s it! C’mere you little devil!”
A friendly wrestling and tickling war was erupted in the wagon and finally the giggling and grinning
brothers were quiet once more. Looking out to the scenery the road they took offered.
“Look, Ash!” Rowan exclaimed and pointed his finger at something in a distant. “What a beautiful
swamp!”

His elder brother inwardly shuddered, remembering what happened just the other night. No
matter how hard he tried to wave of Modred’s tale as another fictional myth he just couldn’t. What
he saw and experienced last night was somehow had something to do with it. Tall tale or not, Ash
wished he wouldn’t stumble into a marsh or a swamp again in the near future.

“It’s just swamp,” the young man answered his little brother enthusiasm with fake indifferent.
“But it’s so pretty,” Rowan argued, “There are so many flowers floating on it. What’s their name?”
he turned his head a little to ask his brother.
“They are called water lilies. I think Jamie has some in his pond back home.”
Rowan focus was back to the swamp, eyes glinting in wonder.
“I wish I could swim in that swamp.” He wondered aloud.
His elder brother stiffened.
“No, you won’t.”
“Why not?” Rowan demanded with a frown.
“Because you can’t swim.”
“Can too! I learned how to swim with Jamie a month ago.”
“Well, you still can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because, my dear little brother, if you swim in a swamp, especially in a swamp with so many
water plants, you’ll end up tangled in roots and vegetation,” Ash answered patiently.
The boy narrowed his eyes at his brother, little arms crossing his bony chest.
“We can choose the clearer part with fewer water plants.”
“No. You can’t.”
“Can too!”
“No.”
“Why not?”

Ash sighed. Perhaps it was not necessarily bad thing to let Roan listened to Modred’s story till the
end so the lad would learn a lesson or two about dangerous swamp and marsh.
“Didn’t you listen anything Modred told us last night?” he said seriously. “There’s a monster in the
swamp.”
Rowan glared
“You lie.”
Ash looked down at his imp of a little brother, face solemn.
“I am not. You were asleep,” here Rowan looked offended but his brother ignored it, “but I wasn’t.
So, I know the whole story.”
Rowan looked suspicious but curiously asked, “What kind of monster?”
“A big swamp monster,” the elder brother said.
“How big?”
“Very big.”
Rowan’s eyes widened, “Very big like Mr. Price’s horse?”

Ash pretended to think really hard. Humming and putting his forefinger on the chin.
“Maybe more,” he said after a while, “and purple.”
The little boy’s eyes were glinting mischievously, “It had purple fur?”
“Sure.” Answered his brother easily.
“with yellow spots?”
“I think so.”
“And green horns?”
“Possibly.”
“And pink claws?”
“No doubt,”
Rowan giggled, anger forgotten, “Now you lie,”

Ash pretended to be hurt, put his hand atop his chest dramatically.
“How could you say that? I am telling you nothing but honesty, my young sir.”
His little brother laughed at his antics and folded his little arms with superiority.
“Nope. I don’t believe you.”
“But it is true!”
“No. ‘s not.”
“It is!” the dramatic elder brother insisted.
“It’s not!”

Ash huffed, admitting his defeat but once again looked solemnly at his one and only brother. All
joking and pretends vanished.
“But Rowan, you must promise me,” he said seriously, “Whether there is purple and yellow spotted
monster in the swamp or not, you mustn’t go anywhere alone and without asking me.”
Ash looked rather confused over his unusually serious elder brother.
“But why?”

Ash griped his little brother’s shoulders firmly and looked him in the eye.
“Promise me.” He plead; his eyes shone with determination.
Rowan finally nodded his little head, face solemn. He would always trust his brother.
“Yes, I promise.”
The elder brother smiled in relieved and ruffled the boy’s brown curls.
“Good,” he said softly and smiled. “Good.”

Ash didn’t know what future awaited them but he knew one thing for sure. He would always be
there for his little brother and faced the world together.
The older boy looked out at the seemingly peaceful swamp once more. Whether the night before
was real or his imagination it didn’t matter. They were on their way to a faraway place and
hopefully a brighter and happier place. He leaned his head to the wagon’s wooden wall and closed
his eyes. Listening to his little brother chattering while the carriage trudged on and on.

Amidst clusters of water lilies, slender and pale grey fingers crept along wet leaves. Large gray
bulbous eyes between tangled greenish flaxen hair glared at the departing wagon angrily. Unseen,
yet there they were watching.
End

Cerpen Karangan: R. Safir