The Rainbow Sword

Dreams matter...

The Rainbow Sword         by Sami S. Khalil

“Dreams are pens looking for missing pages. They are the dog-eared bookmarks of life creased with hopes,” his dad said. “So, son. Follow your dreams till the end of the rainbow; there you will find the rainbow sword. Wade carefully its waters then cavort at chances bravely.”

The son was filled with wild raptures as he looked at the sunset over the desert horizon. He thought to himself, “How can I find a rainbow for it hardly rains in the Sahara, let alone a sword.” Not discouraged, he kept looking at the sky sequined with a few purple clouds on specific days.

Growing up a nomad; a Berber among cattle and weed, his people had many wondrous stories, somehow muffled. Although at times they were severed from the world around them, they kept close to Mother Nature.

Berber Ali was in line after his dad’s passing Batal(Hero) to ascend the leadership of the tribe. Women of that tribe were multi-taskers, like weavers of tents, embroiders of rugs and makers of milk and cheeses. Their sweat sank deeply into the sand, quietly filling the womb of existence, as the palm trees swayed to the wind songs. The sand dunes around them looked like tombstones of the past, after seasoned focus on mysteries.

One day, an emissary from the Caesar of Rome paid a visit to see Batal, asking for the finest yearlings for his leader (the Berber were known for that), in exchange for finer silks, grapes and precious gems that can adorn the Berber ladies. One day, as heat eased off in the desert, the father sent his son with the emissary to Rome, through the great city of Carthage (where the Roman ships docked). The main goal was to meet the Caesar for future dealings, help transfer those yearlings honestly to him, while ensuring none stray.

The son grinned from ear to ear, for he had heard about Rome; how marvelous a city it was. It is his chance to see the world and make his mark on it.

He kissed his dad, said a farewell to the tribe, then praised God in his comings and goings, scattering seed in the wind, eagerly desiring to accomplish the mission. Upon arriving in Rome, nestled among the seven hills, he meandered gently around the city’s winding courses, buffeted by irrigation canals. He felt a stark difference with the Sahara.

Housed in one of the palace’s guest houses, he waited patiently for the meeting while supping on luscious foods especially Mediterranean fish. Many things pleased him except one fact; they worshiped many deities while he was a monotheist. The Romans were very hospitable though, advanced in science and talented in the arts. The invitation to the massive Amphitheatre to watch bloody fights kept him on edge.

During one of the shows, it rained hard. After the rain, he saw a beautiful sight. It was the long-awaited rainbow, dovetailed by many colors, perching in the sky. It was like a day-dream. He immediately remembered his dad’s words to follow it till the end, literally. He eased out of the Amphitheatre, hopped on an Arabian stallion and off he went following the rainbow, without notice or telling anyone. His journey took him through towering, lush hills, deep valleys and forgotten hamlets, drifting up and down in starkness, till he reached Venice. His mouth stuttered and stammered at its beauty. With that, he heaped all praise on God.

The town was overflowing with artisan shops, art museums and tourists. He felt in a twilight zone. He was led to a local Inn, owned by a local jeweler, who owned a diamond shop. As a good gesture, Franco invited Berber Ali to witness the art of cutting and polishing diamond. As the guest walked around in awe, he glanced at a diamond-studded sword, glistening like a rainbow, hanging on the wall. It dawned on Berber Ali that is the “Rainbow Sword” at the end of a rainbow. Franco was offered a handsome purchasing price, but he turned the offer down, while telling his guest that the sword held a precious value; it was to honor his late dad, a sailor who fought many wicked pirates.

But Berber Ali wanted the sword so bad, to bring it back to his dad, proving that dreams can come true. One night, while at the Inn, neighbors were fast asleep, he sneaked out, broke into the shop, stole the sword, then embarked on a ship bound to Carthage. Gleaming in success, he arrived at the campsite of his tribe. His dad welcomed him with open arms within a burning rage. He knew something was not right. As the son presented the sword, he refused to accept it. After making him confess the truth, the dad said: “I had sent you on a mission of a lifetime that you did not fulfil. Then you took something that did not belong to you. Ask God for forgiveness now, never to do this heinous thing again. Son! Dreams are fulfilled through great missions, by honorable means, showing discipline and leadership skills. I encourage you to work on that. When I spoke before, it was all in a figurative sense. In a practical sense, weave your pliant hopes, climb your own mountains, and scatter your own seed. Take the sword back, ask for forgiveness, then finish the mission."

Twilights passed, and the son came back to assume his mantle, looking always dapper in his local attire. His dad passed while gone, was buried under some deciduous trees. Berber Ali ruled with honesty, fairness and justice as the sun spread across the plains its warm reach. On the staff his dad passed on to him were the engravings: “Let dreams fit in you, not the other way around.”

    

Reviews

[Sami Khalil]

"Their sweat sank deeply into the sand, quietly filling the womb of existence, as the palm trees swayed to the wind songs. The sand dunes around them looked like tombstones of the past, after seasoned focus on mysteries."