Mountainsong
An Adaptation of “The Little Mermaid”
Copyright J.Rutter, blah blah blah
In the days when this world was young and all the creatures were newborn and wondering where to go, two humans fell in love and had many children. But although they loved each other, they fought so much that God Himself grew so bothered with His children that He stole their voices and gave them to some of the animals. Those humans could not speak anymore, and lost all forms of communication. Because the world was growing around them and the speaking humans ridiculed and hated them for being mute, the children fled to the mountains that held up the Eastern sky.
They climbed the mountains for many months until they came to a cave, in which they made their home. But human explorers discovered them, so they fled further and further into the cave until they were so deep in the mountain, and it was so dark, they could not see their hands in front of their faces. They stopped being able to recognize each other, and some became so mad they ran far away from the others, into the darkest corners of the mountain. But the remaining children grew up and had children of their own, and in a little time a great family of mute humans was formed. I am one of the great-great-great-grandchildren of those offspring.
Some other humans will say how there is no comfort to be had in cold and darkness, but that is because they know nothing. There is darkness, yes, but who is to say it is bad? It is a blanket, a mask that keeps beauty from being important. You cannot recognize people by touch or sight. We cannot speak, as I have said, And it is because of this that when our ancestors first came to the mountains, they began to listen harder to all the sounds around us. They listened for water, the tiniest drip-dripping in the background, listened for scurrying and scratching animals, listened to the beat of footsteps and hearts. They could understand each other by the quickening of breath if one was worried or excited, and the smallest drip of a tear did not escape their notice.
After our ancestors began listening for these, they realized there were many things we did not hear because we were not listening hard enough. So they listened to the darkness and heard whispers, heard whispers of those that had died long before in the depths of the mountains. They heard tendrils of silver and gold sing their shimmering songs, heard the water thrum in perfect syncopation (sp?) with their heartbeats. Were they connected to the mountain, they wondered? They wondered this for centuries, listening to the mountain for an answer.
And finally it gave them an answer – it let them listen to its song, the mountainsong. The mountain was a conduit, and yet an entity to itself. The song was very hard to understand. And to this day none of us understand the mountain’s song.
But our ancestors felt the mountain, touched its stones and pillars and walls, and understood that the mountain was like them, a creature that could sing without a voice.
So they knew that they, too, must have songs as well. So they listened to each other, and began understanding thought and emotion. They could not do this without the mountain as a guide, a conduit. They touched the mountain’s stone and could hear themselves in its song. They could hear their neighbors, hear young love budding like the strange underground plants they cared for, hear fears and wonders and desires and doom. They could not hide from each other, and everyone was exposed and began to understand good and evil. They formed laws and a government, and made my grandfather king of the mountain. He passed, and I became the daughter of a king.
My name is Essa, and I am dead.
