A Reader's Banquet

A little story I wrote for Halloween 2012

Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, children and elders alike! We give our warmest welcome to our humble abode! Please find yourselves the most comfortable place for viewing, and make sure that your hands are well rested on your laps. We are very delighted to be your host tonight, and we certainly hope you enjoyed the banquet we organized for your extraordinaire presence. Now do not hurry; please take your time. After all, what is going to happen will intrigue even the most oblivious of you"We shall prove to you that this is by no means a fraud, or even some kind of cheap trickery.

Well then, audience, let us begin the main attraction of tonight’s party, shall we?

[sudden loud cheers]

Ah, ah, ah! Do not be alarmed! We just turned off the light to ensure the best experience for our guests. Please find yourself calm and collected again, or we will not be able to proceed with the main event. And children, please do not be afraid. But if perchance, you are afraid, please do not scream, or move, or leave your seat without your parents’ consent.

My name is of no importance right now, so you may just call me ‘The Storyteller’.

Yes.

That is correct.

My main and sole duty, is to deliver stories of all sorts to our dear guests. I ventured the darkest of the libraries, the collection of an unknown tome collectors, and the spoken tales from unnamed regions. Everything I had learned from my journey"from fairy tales to legends and fables, I shall unveil them all.

Now I see that most of us has quieted down a little. This is the perfect time to start my story, no?

It is.

We present to you, the story from a land far far away, told from mouth to ears; mouths to ear; mouth to ear; and even sometimes, told from the heart. Please do not concern youselves with my flimsy selection of words. Sit back, enjoy your glass of wine, and listen.

Because when a storyteller tells a story, all you have to do is listen.

[silence]

A long, long time ago, when swords and shields clashed everywhere there were wars; on the road to the neighboring town, the national borders, the war plains, and sometimes even at home, the one place people will think of swords and blood the least"there was this one castle atop a hill.

T’was not a castle made of crystal like in fairy tales. Nor t’was built atop a sugary mountain of dairy delights"nay. The hill stood strong during daylights, and portrayed the structure of the castle so well it could dwarf the surrounding villages without even trying. The walls were made of stones; the main gate was of the strongest wood ever discovered by humankind. The steep environment made it one easy castle to defend, and extremely hard to invade.

But no. The castle had no soldiers. During daylight, there was no sound of trumpets being blown, nor the sound of swords swinging and clashing with each other as in daily practice of one soldier’s swordplay. Rather, there was silence; a complete serenity that wards off any suspicion, or even the will to invade, solely because the castle seemed unattended, unoccupied, unscathed, and unowned.

The gate would not budge even one bit, no matter what the invaders did. But there was also no sign of  the lord governing the magnificent building. Normally, of course, when one finds out his own castle being attacked, he will flee in fear, or defend his home with everything he has. But t’was not the case with this one.

The stones did not burn. The wood did not break. The windows hid everything beyond the glass frames. The garden, as though magically made possible, was left unattended, yet never overgrew. It had become such a mystery, and before long, the natives decided to avoid the place. They made up stories of all sort to scare their sons, their daughters, and their grandchildren. Part of them really did worry about the youngsters, but another part of them simply did not want their successor to be the one unveiling the truth behind that castle.

They thought, what they couldn’t discover at that age, will forever be shrouded in mystery.

At this point, audience"I did not simply back down after hearing the background of such an interesting castle. I did whatever I could to discover more, and more, and… simply more. The castle had piqued my interest, and t’was such a rare opportunity for myself"of which at that point I traveled to a place I would normally skip. And so, I pulled out the parchment and the quills, and started writing to everyone I knew.

I needed assistance to uncover the truth behind those stone walls.

Ladies and gentlemen, have you guessed it already?

[audiences whispering]

Yes. You are correct.

This story has yet to reach the beginning. In fact, tonight, I will expose to you the secrets of that castle. Of what I found out, of what I discovered, of what I learned, and of what I lost on the way. Please do not leave the room, and do not be afraid of the dark. We purposedly closed down every window and every shafts there are to make this stage a complete darkness; so you will be able to experience directly what was beyond those stone walls.

Where did I left off again?

"Oh why, of course! The folktales, did it?

I will just skip the boring part of the story that involved researching, mailing, and awaiting replies, and go straight to the main point.

So here is the interesting part:

Of the countless tales ever made by the surrounding folksmen, little did they know that"either by research or by pure chance, one of their hallowed fables was actually telling the truth.

No. I do not mean to lie, and I did not. One, ladies and gentlemen, even though only one of those stories was telling the truth, it made us wonder, no? Who in the world would be able to tell the stories behind those protective walls? Who would have such power to recount the tales of the unknown?

Unfortunately, I am not the right person to answer that. I am but just a storyteller. So I will do my job, and tell you what actually is the ‘real story’.

Are you ready? There is no turning back now.

Ladies and gentlemen, if you think that"even for only a moment"my story is not interesting, then you are more than welcome to leave the room. Our staffs will lead you the way. But if you really, really want to know the continuation of the story, then by all means, please stay within the room. I shall give you some time to decide.

[the storyteller leaves the stage]

[audiences making noise]

[some people leave the room]

[the storyteller enters the stage]

Thank you. Let us continue.

[the storyteller inhales greatly]

Years before the men invaded the castle, there actually lived a man and his family. The man was an age perhaps a score and a ten"mayhap four to five beyond. He had just started his new family with his beloved wife and twin children. And, even though having such a great castle to attend to, they did not have any servants. They just used whatever room they like, and kept the remaining ones hollow.

They lived there for several years, and the twins grew so fast that the man decided he would finally hire a servant. One offspring was already a very big responsibility, and yet he found himself with two! Seeing such cute faces the two had, the couple decided to keep both of them, even though t’was not in the initial plan he had. One was a baby boy with blonde hair and blue eyes, resembling his mother. The other was a baby girl with black hair and black eyes, taking after the father. They did not know how twins could be so alike, yet so different. But they decided they would love them equally anyway.

Years passed, and the twins were six when the father decided that they had grown too naughty to handle all by himself. His wife had passed away not long after giving birth to their children, and the man found himself lonely. He couldn’t admit it, but he felt every inch of his bones yearning for another human"a woman, other than his own daughter, to fulfil his desire, and to tend to the children. At that time, a twinge of desire aroused within the lustful man, and he ventured outside the castle in search for a perfect ‘wife’ for himself and for the children.

He stocked up foods, and led by his desire, left his children behind.

Bereft of their paternal guardian, the children did not have the slightest worry in their minds. After all, they had been tending themselves all these years, while the father confined himself beyond the door to his study. It would of course create some trouble in the future, but the children kept quiet and let their father go. They had food supplies that could make them last for several months, after all.

And so, after the father went away, the twins played every day in the castle. Without a fatherly warning to restrain their activities, they wandered to every corner of the building, leaving no stones unturned. They visited the storeroom, the hollow and unused rooms, the kitchen with no chefs, and the library. They didn’t bother cooking their own foods, and so they ate everything they could find fresh. Lettuces, eggs, half frozen meat stored in the cold and damp room, carrots, potatoes"they ate them all raw.

After lunch, they would run along the pavements surrounding the building, making paths along the way among the tall bushes and grass, peeking through the curtains of wild flowers, and climbing the outer walls, relying on the indentation between the stones to get to the top. They would play chase, hide and seek, or simply lie down beneath the warmth of the sun. For the two, t’was the most fun and halcyon days they could ever ask for.

And then, when nightfall came, they would lock themselves in their room. The castle was spooky and dark"so dark that even the darkest corner of this room right now would not compare. T’was not an artificial darkness, but a real darkness that crept beneath the sunset and swallowed the cold stone walls whole"engulfing their home with pitch black canopy that lasted for several hours before the dawn.

Even the children, who had already gone to every last corner of the castle, did not dare to move even a slightest bit from their bed. They clinged to their blankets, and covered themselves with the warmest and thickest clothes they could find in the wardrobe, and pretend that the room was their fortress. They were scared, of course, but there were two things that they thought could keep them save.

[the storyteller pauses]

One, was light.

[the storyteller lights up a candle]

Every night, the twin would find themselves a candle. T’was a fortunate race against the twilight, but the twins always managed to find themselves a new stack of candles to accompany them during even the darkest nights. They would then place the candle in a holder, mimicking their father, and lit it up with stocked up matches.

And then, all night long, they would stay awake with eyes wide open, making efforts to close their eyes, but to no avail. Because they knew, if they were to close their eyes, they would miss the moment when the candle ceased to lit. And they would forget all together about the light"leaving their room dark for the rest of the night. They didn’t want that. And so, because they were such clever twins, they found a way to keep the light on each night, and getting plenty of rest at the same time.

They would take turns staying awake. One of them would sleep today, while the other one must pledge to keep the candle burning all night. The next day, of course, they would switch the role. They thought this was a clever idea, and really t’was for something six years olds could devise. But they forgot one important thing: they could not sleep without their mother’s lullaby.

Yes, the second thing to keep them safe, was the mother’s lullaby. The same song their father sang to them every night before he left. The same song their mother taught their father years ago. Only with that song, they could find peace, forget all about the dark, the monsters, the imaginary"or not so imaginary"creatures of the night, and sleep.

And as such, t’was decided that, whichever of the twin"the one on duty at that very night, would also sing the other a lullaby until he or she fell asleep. They did not possess their mother’s singing voice, and they did not remember their father’s strong embrace every night while singing the song, but they tried their hardest to remember every last bit of memory they could muster to recall the shadows of their parents.

Because, no matter how strong they may seem, no matter how playful they were when the sun shone brightly, when the night came, they would feel lonely again. They would be scared again.

But they thought they would be alright.

Their father should return soon.

Or so they had thought.

The routine continued for days, weeks, and finally"months. There was no word from their father, nor there was any sign of his return. The children were distraught"the once piling stock of foods were long gone. They had once thought that eating meat raw was nasty, but they did it anyway ever since their father went away. And at that time, when food was scarce, they had already forgotten the taste of warm bread, the crisp texture of freshly harvested apples, or the tender and juicy meat of a grilled lamb. They ate everything"from raw food to contaminated water. They even picked up wild berries from their once beautiful garden, and tried to digest the grass to fill their stomachs. But they still thought they would be alright.

The main concern was not how the food was depleting rapidly every day.

Rather, t’was how they could survive without the candles.

Have I told you yet? The children may be able to wander within the stone fences of the castle, but they were incapable of leaving the fortress by themselves. They did not know how to open the gate, and their small hands were too frail to grasp or climb the slippery walls. They were trapped within their own house, fleeing from the dark every night, and enduring starvation every day.

But they still had their mother’s lullaby, so they held on.

Until that day came unexpectedly.

[the storyteller exhales deeply, showing regret]

T’was the boy’s turn to keep the candle burning and sing a lullaby to his twin sister, but they had not been feeling very well since the morning. Perhaps t’was the grass they ate, or perhaps because they were abandoned, and no one was there to take care of the nutrients provided for them. The boy was able to endure his pain"because he was one big boy, but his twin sister’s condition was worse.

And so, the boy told the girl to stay in the room all day, while he searched for food and more candles. Quite a clever and quick thinking from a boy his age, if I might say so myself.

The girl obeyed, and she stayed in the room for all day long, while her twin brother searched the entire castle for any food"anything. From berries to bread crumbs. He dared himself to revisit every corner of the castle again since t’was daylight, but he couldn’t find anything. Disillusioned and feeling pathetic, he returnd to the room exactly when the dusk had passed.

T’was then, that he realized he had just forgotten something that had become one with his routine. His sister was lying down, horizontally unmoving, with her body shivering and curling because of the terrible fever. The boy rushed to her side, and opened the drawer right beside their bed to light up another candle since t’was night already.

But he didn’t find one.

He had forgotten to search for the candle.

He was very scared, of course. But he knew his sister would never get better without the candle. Imagine this"your beloved little sister was cold and almost completely numb from inside. She was scared of the dark, and the fear only served to worsen her condition. As a brother, the only thing he could do was taking responsibility for his mistake, and go search for the candle, even though that meant he had to go through those spooky corridors and silent rooms, pacing slowly and scratching every corner for a hint of candle. He was more than scared"he was terrified. The castle had an atmosphere that was more than enough to make an adult piss his trouser, and yet he decided that his sister took priority above all else.

He braced himself, and was about to leave the room in search for the candle, when his sister grabbed the sleeve of his shirt weakly, breathing heavily, and shedding tears from her eyes. She spoke to her brother dearly; that she did not need the candle. That she just needed her brother to stay with her, and sing her the lullaby one more time. She said, if she was going to sleep forever, it would be nice to hear the lullaby for one last time.

But her brother refused hardheadedly, and said that singing the lullaby would not change anything. He would rather prove his courage and search for the candle than watching his sister dying without being able to do anything. He shrugged off her hands, and walked out of the room, the same way their father had once left them.

[the storyteller pauses yet again]

When the boy returned to the room, ladies and gentlemen… He could not see his sister breathing. No matter how many candles he lit, or how hard he shook her shoulder violently. No matter how hard he cried and sang the lullaby of their mother’s, his sister never came back.

The girl had died, without seeing the light, and without hearing the lullaby.

[a violinist enters the stage. With only the dim light from a candle the storyteller holds as his guide, the violinist plays one sorrowful song that portrays the lullaby of the twin’s deceased mother]

[the storyteller continues on]

On the other hand, their father was not actually abandoning the twin. He had met many wonderful women along his journey, and he had hired them all for himself; one night for each. And after a night full of pleasure, he would then persuade the woman of his choice to go to his house atop the hill, and tend to his children. Many women who were infatuated by his charisma and devilish handsome feature gave in to the request, and promised that they would go and take care of his children in his place.

Hearing this, the father sighed in relief.

But little did he know, during his long years of journey, none of those women actually really came to the castle. None of them deemed their wonderful one night great enough; taking care of someone else’s children was just a price too high to pay. They thought, with the wealth that man possessed, he would already had several maids and servants hired specifically to take care of his children. And so, those women decided to ignore the request"the camouflaged plead from a father searching for a substitute for his long lost wife.

If only"let’s say"if only one of those women actually came to the castle, I wonder what would happen? Would that prevent the girl from dying? Would that prevent the children from eating inedible food? Would that make the children feel safe within their own house, even though they will be sharing the room with a stranger?

[the violinist bows his musical instrument violently]

[the storyteller sighs]

Nay, nothing would change. The girl will die.

Exactly one year from his departure, the father returned home, only to find vines constricting the once beautiful building he called ‘home’. He found dozens of candles scattered throughout the hallways"many of them were broken. He also found patches of grass and bushes that were actually new it seemed like t’was used by someone not too long ago. He was astonished when he found out the dust piling in the kitchen, and he wondered what had his children eaten all this time, given the situation he saw in the kitchen?

And then, he entered the children’s room.

A very unfamiliar smell stung his nose. The stench of the dead; of the unmoving; of the rotten. He paused for a moment, and then finally saw what was displayed above the bed"now full of maggots and houseflies flying about. The flesh had decayed just a bit, and he instantly recognized the body lying down on the bed.

His daughter.

[the violinist reaches the climax of the song]

[the storyteller gazes through the candle in his hands]

They never found the boy.

The villagers also knew nothing about the father, who then went for another journey. This time, he took his own life right beside his daughter, and went to the afterlife without any second thought. According to the testimony of someone very, very old and reliable, the castle gate became so firm and unmovable also after this event.

They said, the father’s ghost left so many regret in this world, so he searched for the women he slept with, and demanded their deaths. I do not know much about the father’s wish, but it seemed like he really did kill those women, and forced them to be unliving servants for the castle"for his castle.

So the ever so clean castle, the unmoving gate, and everything else in the earlier tale, was explained. Let’s say those women repented for what they had done, by cleaning the castle, defending the stone walls, and taking care of the two decaying corpse in one specific room. They were cursed to look after the castle forever. The father was cursed to have regrets forever, and the daugther was cursed to die without even hearing the mother’s lullaby again.

And thus, the castle became a mystery"an immobile legend; a folktale; a scary story in different versions"some with heroic twists, some with humour, and some with gore and splattering blood in them. But at the very essence, the castle did not hold a scary story. It just"like what I had told you"held a very sorrowful tale, forever bound to this world.

Finally, as a conclusion to our story tonight, I will tell you one special bit of information I managed to loot from the townspeople. They say, even though the castle had been lacking any signs of living being for the past few decades, for once"only for once, they had seen something flickering by the second window from the left, on the highest floor of the castle; the children’s room.

Be it a candle or a flashlight, they did not know. But they had developed some interesting stories regarding that one flicker of light. While of course, we will have to wait for another night to learn about these… equally intriguing stories, I will give my own opinion regarding this matter.

[the violinist stops playing and steps down from the stage]

Correction. This is by all means not just an opinion. You can say I got this information from a very reliable source, so you may believe everything that I have to say right now.

The boy, who went missing the night his sister died, could actually be found in another story from the townspeople. Albeit at a glance, it bears no significance to the previously told story, but after intensive research, we could discover that the two stories are related.

The boy really did went missing, but the villagers"before they became townspeople decades later"did find another corpse that week, at the feet of the steep hill, right by the river. They did not suspect anything, of course, since they did not know anything about what happened inside the castle, and refered to this corpse as ‘a boy with no face’ because his face was completely destroyed by the rock formation, not to mention his flesh had already begun to rot away.

The villagers buried the boy somewhere, but they never spoke of him again. The story about the mysterious castle had overshadowed the news about one insignificant corpse found near the river, that by perchance, was holding a candle in his right hand, and a box of wet matches in his pocket.

[the storyteller looks up to the direction of the audience]

He might become a ghost. Or not.

But at least he did bring the candle with him. At the very last moment, he remembered the pledge he made with his sister; that while the other is sleeping, the one who is still awake shall keep the candle burning. I could easily imagine how he thought everything would be okay if he just had the candles lit. Perhaps he tried to climb the stone walls and make a signal with the candle to the nearby villagers, but he was caught in an unfortunate accident.

Or maybe he just intended to follow his sister, who knows?

And dear audience, please do not be alarmed. The morale of this story is, no matter how dark your path may be, you should always have someone to light the way for you. Especially when you are taking a rest from the world. If the boy had become a ghost, he would have traveled around the world, teaching his mother’s lullaby to people, and sharing his devastating story, so that even though he would one day vanishes into thin air, people will remember them. Their story will become a legacy that lives on for eternity"for as long as people believe in folktales"in their story.

[the storyteller then smiles widely]

[audiences become restless]

This candle I’m holding right now is the symbol that we are alive. Today, I am lighting this candle for all of you, ladies and gentlemen. But from tomorrow onward, you will have to find that special someone, that would be willing to light your way, even in the darkest… the coldest of all nights.

You are alive. We are alive. I am alive.

And so, as the closing for this story, I will raise this candle and"

[the candle suddenly ceases to lit]

Good lords! What could have possibly happened?

[audiences scream, the crowds stand up and panic]

[the violinist, who is standing by the door, turns on the light switch]

[the storyteller had long since vanished into thin air]

 

Author's Note

ignore grammar problems, what do you think actually happens?

Reviews

[Syble]

First I'd like to say great read! I really enjoyed it! I like the way you told the story. I really enjoy period pieces so the "vintage" talk was a very nice touch :) The only thing I would say is be careful with words & wording...for ex: "But no.The castle had no soldiers." Maybe you could do "But alas, the castle..." just a suggestion as I believe the "but no" is a double neg. Other then that fabulous read! Keep it up and I hope you post more!

[kerikil]

Thank you for your kind review! I'm still learning to write in English, and I do hope I don't screw up that much. Thank you for pointing that out! I agree, it does sound like a double neg. I hope I can get more reviews from you on my future posts!

[Syble]

Absolutely! My pleasure! Id be happy to read more, Ill be around :)

[Douglas White]

This story was well told in a unique framework that captures the feeling of the story perfectly. Other than a few misspellings and some minor grammar technicalities (a little proofreading will clear out the errors quickly enough), this was an excellent tale. The end works perfectly, leaving the answer in the minds of the readers.

[Diane Lockard]

He was the ghost of the boy who returned too late to save his sister. But how did he get out of the castle?
As a ghost, he could return, and as you say travel the world, until one day, he vanishes into thin air!

I enjoy tales of days gone by, and they have a message to tell - this one, someone to light your way. It is an excellent story, in the traditional story telling style... I look forward to reading more.

[kerikil]

Thank you for your kind review! I'm still learning myself, and I haven't even discovered my one true 'style' yet. That is why I try to write in different styles, genres, and ways. I'm glad you like my writing just as much as I do. And I will be posting new writings here more often in the future--hopefully. I'm still struggling to write in English full-time, when my close reader circle demands the writings in my native language. But I hope you will read my future stories/poems. Cheers!

[Gobinder Singh Dhindsa]

Well döne, do u read mine 2 Time and Anguish

[kerikil]

Certainly! I'll post my comments after I read both poems (meaning I'll have to searh for a better screen than my cell phone). I hope I'll get a decent internet connectionat home to view your writings. Thanks for commenting!

[Gobinder Singh Dhindsa]

Welcome!

[Zahra]

I had suspected that the storyteller was the son which became clear at the ending.enjoyable read.

[Zahra]

This is the most interesting horror story I've read on wc yet. It was full of suspense and caught my attention till the end. What i liked that you conveyed a message at the end instead of just stuffing the story with gore. Hope to see more writes from you

[kerikil]

Thank you! I wrote this back on Halloween last year, and I shared it to my friends before. They liked the story--surprisingly, and because the reception was so good, I finally decided I would post the story somewhere I could get reviews on. I'm really, really glad you liked it! And yeah, I will be posting new writes from time to time. But because I mainly write in another language (English is not my primary language), I doubt everyone could read my works.

[Zahra]

Okay, will look forward to see your work. In which language do you write other than English?

[kerikil]

I write in Indonesian language (Bahasa). I also write in English (obviously), but I tend to write more with the former because it just... flows better.

[Zahra]

Well I don't understand Indonesian language, though wish you good luck with writing in both languages. English isn't my primary language either.