K is for King

         Welcome to the April A to Z Blog Challenge!  Are you looking for the officially scheduled letter of the day?  

You can find my Post for I here.

        (My A to Z Blog Challenge theme this year is Beyond Pomegranate & Thorns, my immanent collection of short stories, poems, and art inspired by fairy tales, myths, and folklore.  All through the month I’m sharing excerpts of art, stories, and poetry, as well as some reflections on the power of the traditional stories that inspired me.)

        K is for Kickstarter, which is how I published this book.  I described the process last year for the previous book, and if you’re curious you can find out all about it here.

        As for this book, one of the short stories in Beyond Pomegranate & Thorns is called “King of Shadows,” and although it’s based on a particular character from European folklore, I’m not going to tell you which one, because in this case that would be a bit of a spoiler!  So instead of discussing the legends, I’ll just have to give you a somewhat longer selection of excerpts.  (And then you may be able to guess who this is, because the clues are all there.)

        There’s a little park with a couple of benches by the train station across from the Starbucks, and there’s this old man who always sits there.  I started working at the library a few years ago, and the old man was there then, sitting on that bench when I got out of the train, still sitting there when I came back to the station at the end of the day, except in winter when it was already dark.  Even if it was raining or snowing, there he was on the bench under the huge maple, summer and winter, from sunup ’til sundown. 

        …

        Weeks went by.  The squirrels accepted me and my birdseed, and the old man smiled when I spoke to them.  I told the squirrels about my cat and my girlfriend and my garden.  I told them about the books I was reading.

        …

        The squirrel didn’t answer, of course, but the old man caught my eye.  “I call him Robin,” the old man said, taking me by surprise.  I offered the old man some carrot sticks, but he shook his head and didn’t say another word, so that I found myself wondering whether I’d actually heard him speak at all.  But I started calling the dark-furred squirrel “Robin,” and the old man seemed to approve.

        It was another month or two, and beginning to be chilly sitting in the park some days, when the old man accepted a square of dark chocolate.

        “Now this is something special,” he said.  His voice was as rich and deep as the chocolate.  He may have looked old, but this time his voice held such strength that there could be no doubt he had spoken.

        I agreed about the chocolate, and then ventured, “What brings you here every day?”

        “I’m waiting for my wife.”

        “Where is she?”

        He shook his head.  “She could be anywhere.  Perhaps India.  I haven’t heard tidings of her in some time.”

        I frowned, wondering whether his wife was as old as he, or whether more likely she’d died years ago and he was suffering from dementia.  But if so, who let him out all day, and who took care of him all night?  I asked, “How long have you been waiting?”

        “Years.”  His gaze rose up to the branches above us, where Robin the squirrel had taken a sunflower seed to nibble.  “She cannot stay angry forever.”

        Well, that’s all I’ll say for this one.  But the moral, perhaps, is that there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in some people’s philosophy.

        Also, never underestimate the magic powers of chocolate.

        Are you the sort of person who starts conversations with strangers at the park?  I’m afraid I’m not, but it’s a good thing the narrator of this story is!

[Picture: Illustration adapted from Grandfather, rubber block print by AEGNydam, 2026 (See the original block print at NydamPrints.com).]