Sid was a kid

Who was frightened of heights

And of crowds and loud bangs

And wild beasts and bright lights

Unfortunate, then,

That his childhood was spent

With a travelling circus

Beneath a big tent

And when it came time

To teach Sidney the trade

The poor kid turned green

Cos he was so afraid

They tried the trapeze,

But he kept falling down

And Sid was too somber

To make a good clown

He couldn’t tame lions

In case they might bite

Couldn’t sell treats

(The crowds gave him a fright)

Sid wasn’t cut out

To be part of the troop

His scaredy-cat ways

Kept him out of the loop

Dejected, he chose

To abandon his kin

And find some new place

Where he felt he fit in

So he packed up his trunk

Bid the circus goodbye

And faced the unknown

With a tear in his eye

He walked to a town

He’d not been to before

Where the children made fun

Of the odd clothes he wore

And the streets were a maze

And the people were mean

And nothing was easy

And nowhere was clean

But he soldiered on still

Determined to see

If there was someplace else

He was destined to be

He found a small nook

And a good little job

He even made friends

With a fellow called Bob

And for once in his life

Sid felt terribly brave

But he found, to his shock,

There was something he craved

The gasps of the crowd

When the acrobats soared

And the chills down his spine

When the bigcats roared

And he realised then

That he had to go back

So he said bye to Bob

And set off on the track

When he finally returned

The old troop were struck dumb

By just how courageous

Scared Sid had become

And just a year later

Sidney was renowned

For being the best

Trapeze artist around

He was happiest

Fifty feet up in the air

Skipping and flipping

Without heed or care

And the children would chant

And the papers would rave

About Sidney, the kid

Who was terribly brave

When nothing comes of nights

All I can do is wander among the streets

And wonder where is that devil now

Who stood with me some many corners ago

He was me, one day before

I planted my feet 

on different sidewalks

and memorized maps

of a brand new home

with long, long hair

and nervous eyes.

I found miles of places

to lose myself in —

undiscovered hands,

and in the streets,

in the noise,

and in the darkness,

even amidst all the light.

I stood in the rain,

and carefully remembered

how I’ve forgotten you.

I watch the sunrise on rooftops,

and forget how I remembered you,

and I grow my hair out,

and I lose myself

in something better.

---

<3C

Chad set the groceries down on the kitchen table, dropped himself into a chair and cracked open a beer. It had been a long day, but it was thankfully over. Between his Sociology classes, yoga, and the remnants of his physics homework, he was spent. Only with his last ounce of energy had he been able to stop by the store at the request of his roommate, Gabe, who promptly entered the kitchen and rifled through the brown paper bag.

“Thanks for going to the store, man.”

“No problem, bro. You can give me $16, or you can just put it toward the Internet and call it even.”

“Call it even.”

Chad turned on the CD player with the remote and the comforting sounds of acoustic white blues filled the room. Seemed like it was going to be a normal night, until Gabe stopped his rifling.

“Where’s the butter?”

Chad downed a gulp and smacked his lips, replying, “Oh, sorry, man. I guess I forgot. I got everything else, though. My bad.”

“Dude! Neither of us is going to be able to make it to the store for, like, six days. I’m gonna need my goddamn local organic butter to get through finals!”

“I said I was sorry! Besides. Nothing’s gonna be open anymore. I left just as they were closing. It’s not a big deal, man. You’ll live.”

“I’m gonna need my goddamn local organic butter. I mean it.”

Gabe had tantrums like this every now and then. Using his extensive knowledge garnered in Psychology 101, Chad figured that it was probably some kind of personality disorder. Possibly Asperger’s, or Turrets, or something? He’d have to do some more research to pin it down. Luckily, in spite of his strange habits, Gabe was reliable with bills and rent. Mostly kept to himself anyhow, and didn’t mind when Chad would bring around one of his several old flames for an intimate, if a bit loud, evening at home.

“You could skip Poetry class in the afternoon,” Chad remarked, trying to ease his roommate’s apparent irritation. “Might be able to make it back in time for Bio-chem.” With another big gulp, Chad emptied the bottle, and with one swift motion grabbed and opened another.

But Gabe wasn’t looking at his roommate, nor the groceries, or anything in their cramped two-bedroom apartment anymore. He was looking out the window, into the deep, dark forested skyline of nearby Ravenna Park. “There might be something open.” Then, with sudden earnestness, he turned and looked Chad directly in the eye and said, “Come with me.”

“Well… Um… I don’t know, dude. I think I might have to stay in and put some sleep in my head. Been putting it off too much.”

“I promise, you’ll get no less sleep tonight because of me.”

“I don’t know, man.”

Gabe, not to be deterred, gave Chad that ineffable, affable smile that made the former so damned popular with the artsy girls on campus. It was as if a smirk were imbued with sincerity. Even Chad found it hard to resist. After a moment, he capitulated and went to return his shoes to their too-recently occupied position on his feet and don his denim jacket. By the time he had done so, Gabe was at the door in his long brown coat and dusty porkpie hat.  In his hand was an old, busted kerosene lantern.

“What’s with the lamp, man?”

“It’s a lantern, Chad. And we’re gonna take a shortcut through the park.”

“Dude, all kinds of weird-o’s hang out in the ravine at night. I don’t wanna get mugged. It’s dark as hell in there.”

“I know! That’s why I have the lantern. Let’s go.”

As they walked out the door, Chad took one last look at the comfortable kitchen table where his beer bottle sat, barely touched. He wished he could stay there instead of going on another one of Gabe’s wild larks, but that damned smirk was impossibly compelling. He closed door and locked the deadbolt.

 ~~~

They meandered through the University District, headed loosely northward. At the corner of Ravenna Boulevard and 17^th, Gabe stopped beneath a streetlight and pulled his cell phone from his pocket. “11:11,” he whispered, and then from his other pocket came a bronze pocket watch that Chad had never seen before.

To be fair, it was dark, even with the streetlight. And to be fair, Chad, being a lightweight, was a little buzzed from the beer he had consumed. But he could swear that there were at least four, maybe even five hands whirring inside of that pocket watch. Some of them were spinning much faster than normal watch hands ought to spin. When Chad asked about it, Gabe replied, “I’ve got several times I’m monitoring here. And it looks like we’re in luck. The shops should be opening right about now.” With that, they continued their walk up 17^th, Chad struck dumb with confusion.

At the end of the street, Gabe lit his lantern. All of the sudden, Chad felt the air had become cooler, not warmer, with the yellow light. He rubbed his arms in a vain attempt to counteract it. Such quick chills were not unheard of. Into the park they walked, still pursuing a meandering but overall northbound course.

After twenty minutes of silently and cautiously trudging through the wooded ravine, Chad began to question his own sense of direction, which was usually impeccable. The park was hardly four blocks at its widest. Had they been going truly north this whole time? Or had Gabe made some calculated series of turns, which had turned his companion around? It was impossible to say, and though he wanted to ask a question, Chad felt that there was some unexplained importance attached to their silence. So he bit his lips and followed the shining light that guided him through the murky black.

The sound of cars began to fade, and Chad wondered at the park’s ability to make one forget that they were so deeply in a city. The trees, the shape of the ravine, the babbling of the brook, all of these aspects and many more, had an uncanny way of eliminating the catcalling drunks, the squealing tires, the growling jetliners. The height of the old growth combined with the depth of the ravine, blocked the apartment complexes and towering downtown monoliths from view. It was almost as if one were in a deeper, darker, more primordial wood. The complete absence of artificial light along the park’s paths completed the illusion.

Chad also found it intriguing how many things he noticed in the park by lantern light that he had never noticed by light of day. Certainly, the trees looked more imposing. And many more crumbling brick walls appeared beside their path than his recollection served. The small stone statue of a blooming artichoke flower was surely new, as well.

“It’s not far now,” Gabe said, and Chad realized it had been quite a long time since either of them had spoken.

A few moments later, they broke through the trees and found themselves greeted with firelight and music. The little clearing, carpeted with knee-high grass, was playing host to a quiet and candle-lit marketplace. Around a bright bonfire sat a little band, its members playing washboard, mandolin, and banjo. A handful of stands sat open, with a slightly larger handful of customers perusing the wares. The people wore all manner of clothing ripped from many different eras of fashion. The old, bearded man selling precious stones looked like he had just left the docks of London in 1910, while the tarot card reader looked to be straight from some punk circus act.

“Gabe,” Chad asked very carefully, “Where are we?”

“We’re at the local market.”

“But where?”

“Ravenna, of course. Also: Don’t eat anything if you want to get back to the house anytime this century.”

There were women in dirndls, men in seersucker suits; piercings and tattoos adorned all manner of body parts; hairstyles and skin colors of all imaginable variations made their appearance, and then there were even a select few beyond imagination. Chad found himself quickly overwhelmed by such a profound diversity rarely seen in any part of the known world. He remarked quietly, “Man, San Francisco’s got nothing on this place.”

In the far corner of the market, there was a stall featuring a pair of dove wings on its sign, which read succinctly, “Feathermonger.” A young woman with a knit shawl sat placidly at the table, counting her many wares, each feather attached to a bit of colorful thread.

“Why would someone buy a feather?”

Gabe scoffed, replying, “Because they need one, of course. Keep close.”

They approached a stall operated by another young woman, this one in a gingham dress. On the table lay a handful of loaves of bread baked into the shape of men and women. Chad thought it amusing that in the flickering candlelight it almost appeared as if the loaves were attempting to move their doughy limbs.

“Evening, Gabriel.”

“Leanne, a pleasure.”

“The pleasure’s all mine. It’s been quite a while since we’ve seen you at one of our markets.”

“Even so, you probably know what I’m here for.”

“Who’s your friend?”

Chad hadn’t stopped looking at the woman’s face. She hadn’t once opened her mouth this whole time.

“Don’t mind Chad. His first time.”

“It’s an honor to make your acquaintance, Chadwick.”

“Come on, don’t you go charming him. He’s got a full and beautiful life ahead of him, with no time to hang around in nooks like these. Do you have any butter?”

She smiled. “Years mean nothing to you, Gabriel. You never change.” From beneath the table, she pulled out a little glass jar, full of the golden substance that was their aim. “And neither does the price. Come on, I haven’t got all year.”

Digging into his seemingly bottomless pockets, Gabe brought out what appeared to be a handful of glittering cotton balls. But when Chad gave it a closer look, it appeared to be just mist, glittering mist, reflecting a dazzling and perplexing array of colors he’d never before seen. Leanne picked up the mist and inhaled it in one quick breath. “Thank you, sweetness. The butter is yours. See you again, soon?”

Gabe shrugged and began to walk away, not before throwing one of those irresistible smirks over his shoulder at Leanne. She gave a similar smile in return, as if in deflection. She turned to Chad, saying, “Want to try the Lammas bread? As you can see, it’s very fresh. Still moving.”

Before he could answer, Gabe’s firm hand took his shoulder and ushered him back toward the path by which they had entered. “I figure we’ll take a different way back, sound good?”

“Man, I have no idea where we are, we can go whatever way you want.”

And with that, the left the clearing, but not before the washboard player doffed her cap at them, and Chad gave a quick salute in return. Gabe turned on his lantern and back into the murky black they went. 

~~~~~

The path homeward was distinctly more erratic and twisting. At some crossroads, Gabe would stop and start. “Not entirely certain the exact place we want to leave,” he would say, again and again. Occasionally, he would stop at a crossroads and listen for minutes at a time, for what, Chad couldn’t say. South they would go, then west, then north again, and then to the east, until Chad was sure that they had gone in a great big neurotic circle. It seemed like an hour passed in their sacrosanct quiet, until at last, the woods broke into the familiar residential environs of the University District. Gabe turned off his lantern and looked at his pocket watch again.

“We made great time. Let’s head up the Boulevard.”

They found that winding, shaded road and began to make their way home until they neared the corner of 17^th, where Gabe stopped them and pulled Chad behind a shed, putting a finger to his lips. Chad, confused, looked around the corner to see what it was they were avoiding. Two young men were approaching the corner, and then stopped beneath the streetlight. One of them wore a denim jacket, the other, a long brown coat and a porkpie hat. The latter was carrying what appeared to be an old lantern. Chad was just about to joke about having doppelgangers, but Gabe’s stern glance took the joke from his lips. The pair of men vanished down 17^th, and only then did Gabe allow them to walk the streets in peace.

Back at their cramped apartment, Chad sat down at the table and drank the beer he had left behind so long ago. It was still cold. “Is the heat even on in here? Beer’s still cold. Weird. We’ve been gone a couple of hours, haven’t we?”

Gabe gave him a smirk, saying, “What are you talking about? Only took a couple of minutes.” And he was right. The clock on the wall read 11:15.

Chad took a moment to reflect on how slowly time seems to pass when traveling by foot. It was easily A+ essay material.

Gabe, meanwhile, proceeded to smear the glistening, golden butter onto a piece of plain white bread. With great relish, he took a moderate bite, then a large bite, and then one more bite, smaller than the rest, leaving nothing of the bread behind. He smiled, not smirked, with profound satisfaction, chewing the morsels. He wore the face of one who had walked right back into the Garden of Eden.

Having completed his snack, he remarked, “It’s not necessarily local, and it’s not necessarily organic, but it’ll do in a pinch. Thanks for coming along, Chad. Wasn’t gonna make it if I didn’t have my butter.”

My poor mother had to read this to me every night for three years when I was a child. I just couldn't get enough. I suspect that's because it is elemental in some way. Lots here for exploration of odd little characters + word play + ever-pertinent sentiments (greed, deceit, despair) that could potentially fit into a much wider story arc...

Rumpelstiltskin

Once there was a miller who was poor, but who had a beautiful daughter. Now it happened that he had to go and speak to the King, and in order to make himself appear important he said to him, "I have a daughter who can spin straw into gold." The King said to the miller, "That is an art which pleases me well; if your daughter is as clever as you say, bring her to-morrow to my palace, and I will try what she can do."

And when the girl was brought to him he took her into a room which was quite full of straw, gave her a spinning-wheel and a reel, and said, "Now set to work, and if by to-morrow morning early you have not spun this straw into gold during the night, you must die." Thereupon he himself locked up the room, and left her in it alone. So there sat the poor miller's daughter, and for the life of her could not tell what to do; she had no idea how straw could be spun into gold, and she grew more and more miserable, until at last she began to weep.

But all at once the door opened, and in came a little man, and said, "Good evening, Mistress Miller; why are you crying so?" "Alas!" answered the girl, "I have to spin straw into gold, and I do not know how to do it." "What will you give me," said the manikin, "if I do it for you?" "My necklace," said the girl. The little man took the necklace, seated himself in front of the wheel, and "whirr, whirr, whirr," three turns, and the reel was full; then he put another on, and whirr, whirr, whirr, three times round, and the second was full too. And so it went on until the morning, when all the straw was spun, and all the reels were full of gold. By daybreak the King was already there, and when he saw the gold he was astonished and delighted, but his heart became only more greedy. He had the miller's daughter taken into another room full of straw, which was much larger, and commanded her to spin that also in one night if she valued her life. The girl knew not how to help herself, and was crying, when the door again opened, and the little man appeared, and said, "What will you give me if I spin that straw into gold for you?" "The ring on my finger," answered the girl. The little man took the ring, again began to turn the wheel, and by morning had spun all the straw into glittering gold.

The King rejoiced beyond measure at the sight, but still he had not gold enough; and he had the miller's daughter taken into a still larger room full of straw, and said, "You must spin this, too, in the course of this night; but if you succeed, you shall be my wife." "Even if she be a miller's daughter," thought he, "I could not find a richer wife in the whole world."

When the girl was alone the manikin came again for the third time, and said, "What will you give me if I spin the straw for you this time also?" "I have nothing left that I could give," answered the girl. "Then promise me, if you should become Queen, your first child." "Who knows whether that will ever happen?" thought the miller's daughter; and, not knowing how else to help herself in this strait, she promised the manikin what he wanted, and for that he once more span the straw into gold.

And when the King came in the morning, and found all as he had wished, he took her in marriage, and the pretty miller's daughter became a Queen.

A year after, she had a beautiful child, and she never gave a thought to the manikin. But suddenly he came into her room, and said, "Now give me what you promised." The Queen was horror-struck, and offered the manikin all the riches of the kingdom if he would leave her the child. But the manikin said, "No, something that is living is dearer to me than all the treasures in the world." Then the Queen began to weep and cry, so that the manikin pitied her. "I will give you three days' time," said he, "if by that time you find out my name, then shall you keep your child."

So the Queen thought the whole night of all the names that she had ever heard, and she sent a messenger over the country to inquire, far and wide, for any other names that there might be. When the manikin came the next day, she began with Caspar, Melchior, Balthazar, and said all the names she knew, one after another; but to every one the little man said, "That is not my name." On the second day she had inquiries made in the neighborhood as to the names of the people there, and she repeated to the manikin the most uncommon and curious. "Perhaps your name is Shortribs, or Sheepshanks, or Laceleg?" but he always answered, "That is not my name."

On the third day the messenger came back again, and said, "I have not been able to find a single new name, but as I came to a high mountain at the end of the forest, where the fox and the hare bid each other good night, there I saw a little house, and before the house a fire was burning, and round about the fire quite a ridiculous little man was jumping: he hopped upon one leg, and shouted --

"To-day I bake, to-morrow brew,
The next I'll have the young Queen's child.
Ha! glad am I that no one knew
That Rumpelstiltskin I am styled."

You may think how glad the Queen was when she heard the name! And when soon afterwards the little man came in, and asked, "Now, Mistress Queen, what is my name?" at first she said, "Is your name Conrad?" " No." "Is your name Harry?" "No."

"Perhaps your name is Rumpelstiltskin?"

"The devil has told you that! the devil has told you that!" cried the little man, and in his anger he plunged his right foot so deep into the earth that his whole leg went in; and then in rage he pulled at his left leg so hard with both hands that he tore himself in two.