Well as I write this it’s gone 2am and I should probably be thinking about getting some sleep, but I’ve been struck down by a bit of late night inspiration so thought I’d leave you with a little tale before bed.
A Gargoyle’s Tale
The stone Gargoyle gazes down on the churchyard. A role now dutifully performed from it’s spire side residence for what had now been the best part of a hundred years. For the most part of its meagre existence its presence had only been given a glancing thought, gifted by a mourning father, mother, sister or brother or on rare occasion a newlywed husband or wife. Simply an ornate gothic sculpture, cold and soulless.
A witness to every joy and sorrow held within the hallowed walls of this powerful religious symbol. A silent watcher. Forever learning. Studying the make up of man, of woman, of human weakness.
Evening falls. A child cries weeping for his fallen mother. A struck down victim of life’s cruel game. The bus didn’t see her and by the time she had seen it, it was already too late, still she had the presence of mind to push her little boy to safety, she had saved him, but she’d paid the ultimate price.
‘Hey child!’ The boy alone in an empty churchyard surveys the area clearly startled. He forces back his sobs as he gazes around in a paralysed fear, ‘Who’s there?’
‘My child I am Gargoyle, look up and you shall see’
Staring up the child sees the weathered stone sculpture, lifeless and grey. The boy screams out again unbelieving ‘Who’s there, where are you?’
The Gargoyles voice echo’s on the wind ‘I have told you, you have seen, you simply choose not to believe. You miss your mother, I’ve seen you here before. I can make her breathe again, would you like that? Would you like to see your poor mother breathe again?’
Confused but hopeful the child looks up and stares once again at the motionless figure ‘Yes, I wish for that every day, but how? How could that happen?’
The Gargoyle growls softly ‘How can a carved lump of sandstone speak? The how is unimportant. I can make it happen, you can see her again. Just a simple trade, If you agree I’ll give my soul for yours and in return I will breathe her new life? The choice is yours?’
The child wiping the salty tears from his eyes looks at the humble grave of his poor mother. Without thinking, excited by the prospect of being reunited will his fallen protector he agrees and then all goes dark.
Moments pass. Finally the child gently re-opens his eyes to see a small boy standing by the side of beautiful young woman, a woman he instantly recognises, he strains to scream her name ‘Mum’ but no sounds are heard, no words are spoken. The child seems familiar, it’s him, how can this be. The stone gargoyle weeps dry tears as his mother takes her new son home.
THE END
Night night & Rest well…
Jon Martin Creative 