Once upon a time there was a land where the “Calling of the Cacophony” was an annual affair.
It tended to be a noisy gathering and so it was decided a long, long while ago that it should take place inside of an underground cavern along the seaside far beyond the dark forest.
The funny thing was that although it was quite boisterous once all were in attendance, the trip to the cavern was very solitary and silent.
The Queen always came down the the twisted road first. Her Majesty Queen Weezewoke would walk like the stately, important being that she was, but then, in a moment she would lift up her red velveteen skirts and go running as fast as she could. Then she would stop and walk in the most stately manner, then she would take off her silver shoes and throw them in the sea, and start skipping. Again, she would stop and gain her composure and walk tall neither looking to the right or to the left.
This she would do until she came to the entrance of the underground cavern. And here Queen Weezewoke would stretch out on the heather on the cliffs by the sea and take a little snooze in the late afternoon before entering.
Next, came the Hermit. Esmelda was a sight! It might be a dress she was wearing, but who knows? It was all in tatters, and the hem was every which length. Never did she put a comb through her hair. As she walked, she would stop and plop a daisy behind her ear. Or she would find a rock and sit with her back against it and pull a piece of hay grass out of its shoot and suck and chew on the sweet tender stem.
It took her forever to get to the cave opening!
She spent a lot of time stopping and breathing in the salty sea air. She would take big round breaths like she was sipping delicious tea through a straw. And, then she would exhale like the ocean waves going back to the sea. She would do this 40 times in a row!
The truthteller came next. She walked with intention in her step. Madame Morpheus, as she was referred to, had places to go and promises to keep. Her theil blue eyes glinted in the sun. Sparkled even. It was as though the light was always seeking to enter her body and her eyes were the first to soak it in. Her dress was fern green and her long thin arms were bronze in color. At times, she would appear to be dancing as she walked, with her willowy limbs swaying this way and that. The wind billowing her long blonde hair.
Last was the Artiste! What an outfit! There were bells, and bows, and streamers, and glitter, and every color of the rainbow. And how she moved! Bethesda took long strides, as if the longer the step, the stronger she would become. The colors of her silky scarf dress swirled as she picked up speed. It was like exercise for her to get all her energy together and focus it on keeping a steady pace that would take her exactly where she wanted to go. And, nobody better get in the way! This is why she brought up the rear. Who wanted her to be between them and cause a scuffle? Madame Morpheus, made sure too, to keep a good distance ahead of Bethesda, she knew what she was like. She often corrected her when she got out of line.
In no time, the little band of Cacophanists, as they were called, assembled at the cavern entrance. It was Madame Morpheus’ job to awaken Queen Weezewoke. And, then they all held onto the railing on the rock wall of the cavern and made their way to the most underground spot which was a spiraling staircase that passed through a colorful array of gemstones on the descent. Beginning with red, and going to orange, then yellow, then green then, turquois, indigo and then purple.
It became darker and darker as they went down the stairway, and when they finally got to the great hall, there was nothing but one flame in the center which burned brightly.
As if the bell sounded, and the race was on, ALL of the characters here began to talk, as they always do, at the same time!
“I never get to…I want to….I feel so…What is there to be done about?...I couldn’t sleep….I need help….where have you been?....why did you do that….how are you going to do THAT!
What’s next? When will I ever get to…Which way is up?...Who knows who to trust?...when will this heartache end?...I’m hungry…I need a drink…I hate you! I hate me! Wonder what it’s all about? Whose in charge? Why do I have to? I’m always working…I never get a break…I always have to do…”
And, on and on it went, sometimes at a fever pitch, sometimes hoarse whispers, loud cries, shouts and hollering, always accelerating in speed, and volume, like a cyclone picking up more wind as it moves.
No one listening, everyone talking, lots of chatter about what is the matter. Very little silence and nothing a bit soft, or yielding. It is as if they all added to a stew pot with the goal to make it boil over! This went on for hours, truly hours! How did they do it?
Next they added their body movements, Swirling, turning, stomping, swaying, marching, every which way but loose! Now it was a frenzy and it was moving round and round the burning flame. It was like a mass, you couldn’t make out the velvet red dress of Queen Weezewoke from the swirling scarf colors of Bethesda’s silky skirt. They were melting into each other the faster they circled, it was almost like flying. Then in one whoosh round, the cacophony stopped and the frenzy began to fizzle. There was one big collective sigh, and the motley group one at a time plop, plop, plop, plopped to the ground.
“Well, does everyone feel better?” asked Madame Morpheus. “Quite better,” said the Queen.
“I feel alive,” said the Hermit Esmelda. “That was one of our very best mixed media stirs we ever had,”’ said Artiste Bethesda.
“As is our practice, it is now time for your solo voice to be heard. Are you ready for your truthtelling?” asked Madame Morpheus, who was leading this portion, of course.
“I shall be first, as always,” said Queen Weezewoke. I desire to partake of the banquet of life. I require food, drink, protection, and gifts.”
After a moment, Hermit Esmelda asked “Who will provide this for you Queen?” It was always amazing how the Cacaphonists never interrupted and waited patiently, as Esmelda did, to ask questions during this time.
“My army, my servants, my serfs, my subjects, my jester, the musician, the chef, the handmaidens, the sentry, the priest and the pope!”
After another moment, “And what will you do Queen,” asked Bethesda
“I will complain if I do not have my food and drink, protection and gifts when I want them and how I want them!! That’s what I do!”
“Here’s the truth–You must do it all for yourself, everything,” said Madame Morpheus
There was gasping in the Cacphonists group, there always was after the first truthtelling.
“Next!” Said Madame Morpheus
“I want to be alone in the mountains. I have to watch the birds building their nests and the stars blinking in the sky each night. Without these things, I will surly die,” said the Hermit Esmelda.
“The truth is, you are afraid of people. Afraid to trust them to share all that you know is beautiful. Afraid they will not love what you love, to the degree that you love it. And they will think you foolish. Stop hiding Esmelda. Share your love,” said Madame Morpheus, “It will make the biggest difference.”
“And Artiste Bethesda, what is your truth?” said Madame.
“I’m afraid, just like Esmelda. Afraid to say my poem, for it will be lame. Afraid to create my one and only self portrait made from all of the earth’s elements, for it will be mundane.
And, there is no one who understands how it feels. No one shows me favor for my work.
And, worst of all, I am not accepted as one of them. They pay me no mind.”
“Who do you think you are, the Queen, for God’s sake?” said Queen Weezewoke.
Why don’t you just accept who YOU ARE! You are an artist. It is not for you to be concerned with what others think, you have a higher power you must answer too! You create with the creator of the universe! What more of a sanction could you want?”
“Well said, Queen,” truer words were never spoken, said Madame Morpheus.
“And now, if truth be told, we can all go out into our worlds again, and give it another try!” Till next year, my Cacophonist friends.
“But, what is your truth, Madame Morpheus? Asked Artiste Bethesda… after a moment.
“The truth is, that, I lie.” There was a gasp in unison, which there always was, at the end of the Calling of the Cacophony.
“I never lie to others, but sometimes to myself.”
“We all do that!” the group murmured and agreed together.
Then they traveled back up the gemstone staircase with truthteller leading the way.
Oh, Elle, this story is SO-O-O-O rich and delightful. It teasingly tickled so many parts of me that I will have to read and re-read it for some time :)
Excellent! Love that piece, reckon I’m the Hermit👍🏻🤓