A Little Frog’s Heart:The Golden Quill, Angel Or Executioner?

A Jailhouse Tale I-2

I don’t know how long I stayed like that. By and by I felt a cold draught of wind creeping in through the bars at the window. I felt that it was inquisitive, almost as if it was trying to collect the very last morsel of the Rat’s body heat, the little bit that had been left on the blood-stained straws. I stood still. I didn’t want to close the window. I thought the least I could do was to let the Wind feel at home because, as far as I was concerned, I was overwhelmed by a boundless sadness. It wouldn’t have been fair that all should suffer for a misfortune that had happened only to me. In order to balance everything, God made a scale whose plates always tipped up and down, trying to level out Good and Evil, Light and Darkness, Beauty and Ugliness, Joy and Sorrow, Love and Hate…

What was the use of philosophy since it brought no comfort to me? An all -pervading grief and an all-encompassing nausea had nestled in my soul after that mishap. I went without food for a week. I didn’t even leave my cell. I refused to see anyone. They all had their share of guilt for what had befallen me. I could only think of God. I incessantly asked Him: “Have you forsaken me, Lord? Why did you leave me alone again within these horrific walls, devoid of any warmth or mercy, gruesomely shutting out the world with iron bars?”

The walls of prisons virtually thrive on the lives of the inmates. They make their bodies grow old before their time and wash away everything they hold dear in the flashes of their memory.

I thought that God no longer heard my supplications but He proved me wrong. On the night of the eighth day I was visited by my friend, the old Rat. He climbed onto the table, composedly as was his wont after we had become friends. This time though, he wasn’t interested in the bread. He was entangled in the white silk thread again, just the way I had seen him the first time. It was as if he had done it on purpose, so that I might pity him. I took him quickly in my warm arms, as I always did before going to sleep, when we wanted to warm each other to make our sleep sweeter. Seeing that I was so upset at losing him, the Rat whispered to me:

“What’s wrong with you? I don’t recognize you anymore! Buck up, my friend! You won’t be in here forever. God may have sent you here with a purpose known only to Him or to protect you from trouble greater than this one, which you would have had to face if you had been elsewhere now. Time will go where it came from and you’ll be set free to return to your loved ones. You’ll understand later why you were meant to go through this predicament. Your sole mission is to follow your own way and walk the path of Light, no matter how dark the night enveloping you may be. Remember that any disaster brings about a change. It could be a chance in disguise, dressed in attire which is too loose, difficult to make out at first glance. Every time you encounter a problem, it leaves you a Gift when it has passed. Any trouble, no matter how bad, can be turned into a blessing, just as any blessing can be turned into a curse, if you don’t know how to materialize it properly. But first of all, take care of yourself. Life becomes meaningless when you are deprived of your health. Don’t take things at their face value as the things your eyes can take in are just as many. You need to “look” around you with your Mind, using all the gifts with which God, in His infinite generosity, endowed you. Only the Mind is truly free. It shows us that Goodness is not a miracle, Love is not an illusion, Beauty is not mere fantasy. On the contrary: they represent the true reality! The Mind opens undreamt of vistas, it helps us find a way of flying, unconfined by any boundaries. Don’t let sin harness your dreams. Don’t fence in your trust with ideals, even if you aren’t certain that you can bring them to life.

God endowed us with Souls, Minds and Bodies; in a word – with Life. The Mind is the bridge between the Body and the Soul. It maintains peace and harmony between the two. The Body is the temple that houses Life, protecting it as if it were a flower which nestles that unspeakable sensibility which is the Soul. It is the Mind which opens up the vistas of Life towards the boundless Universe, enriching it with all kinds of God-given wonders. If the Body cannot bring into your life whatever the Soul wishes for, the Mind can help you imagine that you already have everything, teaching you to trust your power of holding on.

My dear friend, drive Sorrow away! Wipe the soles of your shoes on it mercilessly and make it no longer worth picking up because of its dirt! Don’t let it cloud over your face which is lit by self confidence!”

I was so depressed that I was listening to him without as much as a single gesture.

My lack of response made the Rat heave a heavy sigh. He asked me to put him back on the table. I met his demand without a word. He bent forward slowly, like an old man, picked up the quill and handed it to me. I didn’t get to take it out of his hand as the sound of footsteps walking away made me wince. It was as if someone, passing by the window, had stopped to listen to my friend’s words, and was now walking away. The Rat immediately turned his head in fright towards the place where the rustle had been heard but he could only catch sight of the remnant of a shadow, already fading out of the Moonlight.

In his excitement, the Rat dropped the quill from his hand. When it hit the floor, it made a noise loud enough to wake me up.

“So, it was no more than a dream!” I said to myself in despondency, after I came to my senses. Yet... a rustle coming from the direction of the table caught my attention. It was as if someone was clearing it. I jumped out of my skin with joy:

“Maybe by some kind of miracle, the Rat has returned,” I speculated, shivering.

My wishful thinking surprised me. I got up quickly, leaving the warmth of the bed without any regret. I turned on the light. I was very disappointed: it had only been the Wind. The window had been left open; it was a late December night and the cold Wind was now quickly flicking through the notebook on the table. Driven by a crazy curiosity, it wanted to discover the secrets hidden in the pages of my diary. Or, had someone by any chance asked him to spy on me?

“No! Out of the question!” I rebelled. “The wind cannot be corrupted! His master is Nature herself, so he enjoys unrestrained freedom. He cannot become dependent, like us, on any of the elements that surround us”

So what had drawn the curiosity of the Wind? All I had done before going to bed was write to my dear Mother. Regardless of age, when he is in dire straits, a man thinks about the being that gave him life.

Do not think that I had written to my Mother about my predicament. Not a word of it! On the contrary, I was afraid that she might be worried, as she hadn’t received any news from me lately. That is why I wrote to her that I was well, that I had renewed my contract with the world famous company for which I had been working until then… I wanted her to have a peaceful sleep, because a Mother’s soul can sense the untoward events in her children’s lives, regardless of the distance that separates them. Had she known what I was going through, it would have broken her heart and darkened her soul for the rest of her life. Poor Mother…

I felt that my eyes were moist with tears and I wiped them roughly, turning my mind back to what had happened. Last night I left the quill on the table, between the pages of the notebook but the mad Wind had rolled him to the floor. When he hit his little head against the cold floor, he must have whimpered in pain, while the big black drops of ink splashed all over the place. The Wind was now rolling him on the floor, to and fro, wanting to confuse him in case he should become aware of what had happened to him or even remember who had been to blame for the present mess. It seems that the Wind feels like a sort of master with great authority in Nature’s household. That is why he always has his way.

Going over this sequence of events in my mind, I came back to earth as soon as the cold Wind touched my feet, freezing them. I inferred that he wanted to render me unable to undertake any action aimed at punishing him for his behaviour. He wanted me to forget it all, to go back to bed because of the cold and in this way get rid of any witness to his deeds that night. He didn’t want to be met with a chorus of gossip the following day, when he got through the bars at the window. The main reason was that, at the forthcoming Rite of Spring, he would not have been held in the usual high esteem by the participants.

I was wise to his intentions. His arrogant attitude upset me a little, so I closed the window. I think the Wind hadn’t expected that. I watched him staying outside, wrapped in fluffy white snowflakes, starting to fight furiously with the numb Nature, as if blaming it on her that I had driven him out of the cell. I turned to get my pen. I picked him up carefully, looking at him full of sorrow. The ink drops that had stained him made me recollect the Rat’s final moments. In deep horror, I imagined how his head had been crushed and how it had splashed blood over the killer’s boot.

The window… The wind… The notebook with its rummaged pages …

What did my dream mean? Why had the Rat handed me the quill so purposefully? What message did he want to convey to me? What was I to write? What about? Who about? Who for?

My thoughts invaded me as if driven by the merciless winter wind. I felt the cold, concrete floor pecking at the last remnants of the heat that the soles of my feet had managed to preserve. At that very moment, a thought flashed through my mind:

“I know what I will write about! A story for children! A story that will describe the sad fate of the old Rat, the adventures he went through, the friends who were by his side, who loved him or let him down… A story to reach the children’s hearts and to fight with Immortal Time, and get the better of him… A story that would, at the same time, help me liberate my mind and my soul, which had undergone dangerous trials in prison, that would make me wish to get carried away in its fantasy world, and help me forget all about those grim places.

It was 2:45, on the 1st of January, 2006 and not a wink of sleep. The idea that had crossed my mind wouldn’t let go of me. It fascinated me. But… where was I supposed to start? I felt that I was at a crossroads, undecided which way to go. Feeling tired, I snuggled quietly under the blanket. It had been loyal to me: it still preserved a little warmth. Now more than ever, I was worried about my health. Had I fallen ill, I would only have added another weight to my overload of troubles. The best thing was to go to sleep. The next day, with a clear mind, I wanted to go about attending properly to the thoughts that had flooded me that night. The welcoming warmth made me happy. Sleep overcame me instantly, just like when Mother fondly caresses your head and kisses your eyes, gently wishing you good night.