The Goddess Mermaid of the Islands still had not reopened her door...
The night was dark and moonless, the air tinged with hopelessness,
and that is when they appeared,
skulls, uprooting from the ground,
grotesque, decaying corpses moving among the trees...
The Tinmaker’s eyes passed from skulls to corpses to window,
which revealed a ghastly sight-
an old sea witch stood, animating the corpses with a leering face...
He did not come unarmed, for he brought with him his wits.
He could see at once that if he severed the head,
the body would fall- he had to confront the sea witch...
Her creatures were slow and lumbering,
to be caught would be at one’s own weakness and despair.
Neither afflicted the Tinmaker, for his came with a true heart,
out of a natural concern, even love,
for, though his concerns were tainted with the Goddess’s enchantments,
she had, he sensed, for a brief moment, reached out to him for help.
He did not know what powers the sea witch had,
whether he would be struck down in an instant or allowed to advance.
He reached the door and burst through in a cloud of splinters,
and the sea witch’s horror and pleading eyes betrayed her weakness.
As he drew near, the look in her eyes changed.
The Tinmaker could not determine
if it were sorrow or amusement that he saw,
but as by some sudden insight, the sea witch drew herself up
into a terrible, imposing sight, eyes steeled,
as if her next move were not to be denied to her...
Her hand moved in an arc toward the candle chandelier.
Still she was a terrible sight to behold.
The Tinmaker saw his own end at that moment,
as he watched the chandelier come crashing down.
The sea witch had pulled it down upon herself.
She did not struggle as she burned, in fact she faintly smiled;
and the last the Tinmaker saw were her eyes,
fixed on him, then just past him, inscrutable...
The return journey was filled with inner silence,
and the Tinmaker’s heart lay stilled,
burdened by the great tragedy he had experienced.
The skulls and corpses, he discovered,
were the Goddess’s recent victims.
What had become of the Goddess Mermaid of the Islands?
He did not know. Was the sea witch her true form?
Was the Goddess cruelly locked away under spells?
For fifteen days he had searched for the Goddess,
using his heart and mind as guides,
but neither found any trace of her. The Goddess was gone.
In his blackened mood, reflecting the darkness over the desolate sea,
a small point of hope shimmered in his mind,
a faint glow of warmth stirred in his heart,
both struggling to break through,
both stirred by thoughts of home...
He arrived and reached the gate of the house the he and Jane shared,
and he beheld its shambled ruins: rusty hinges creaking,
shutters ajar, paint peeling and roof in disrepair,
the yard a twisted, tangled wasteland, shorn of all beauty.
He made it to the kitchen, and found a withering, folded note.
To the Tinmaker,
You did not know this, but “Jane”, as you knew her, was a Goddess herself, yet a wayward Goddess, who went off in search of true love. She found it in you, Tinmaker, as well as comfort, support, encouragement, and kindness, in you and your people.
Such joys I have forbidden for our kind. She will be kept locked away in my trophy case again, and as punishment, her tongue and half her brain will be removed, and she will be branded as ‘mad’ and turned into a mannequin, except for her pleading, horrified eyes. Enjoy your memories of her, Tinmaker, for they are all that you shall have of her. She is mine again.
Signed,The Master of Goddesses
The Tinmaker now works behind broken windows,
creating objects woven with the thoughts and feelings
born of cruel and twisted fates.
He returned to his tinmaking, beautiful creations filled with his love,
but which could return none.
At night he can be heard, softly singing, creating songs
even the joyous of which were underscored with sorrow and loss,
our perpetual companions in this life.
Outside, a dying thorn bird sings, impaled upon the sharpest of thorns,
sending to him his next melodies.
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