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when the one bathed in red comes, the other ghosts fall silent. they call him killer, or traitor, or nothing at all, and they hurt, because for so many of them he was once the axis of their lives.
You wish for a story.
he nods. there are others in red, others with blood and others who hurt, but there is no hurt like this one, like the screaming of his soul and empty eyes and cracked neck.
Very well.
Listen well and follow my voice.
There once was born a child with no father. He was of the heat and barren places, of the spaces between atoms, of the dark crawling in the shadows and the light leaking from stars. He was everything, and he came from nothing, as all things must.
He was taken into the light. Look at what we have, they told him. Here is the man who will raise you, and his sister to care for you, and his brother whose child will teach you to be strong, and here and here and here. Look at all who we have, warm and safe together. And here, they said to him, is Grandfather, our most old and most wise, and the little boy knew that they were the same. They were everything, and they came from nothing.
The little boy grew up, as all children must. He grew to be fierce and strong and loving, and yet he failed to learn the most important lesson of all: that to love is to let go, and that to hold tight is not love but obsession.
And as young men do, he fell in love. The woman he fell in love with was a good –
the ghost paused. his head tilted, and he seemed to think.
No. She was kind, and moral and strong and all that a senator should be. The boy thought she was an angel, and he sought to possess her.
And he found he could not let her go. He fell from the place of light, and his fall was marked in pain and blood and misery.
one of the other ghosts whose armour, what there was of it, ran blue like water stood up, but the red-painted ghost glared and pulled his voice together. he continued to speak.
But someone had to stay, someone always has to take the lightning of those who tread in the dark, so that those who still stand in the light can have the time to breathe and raise up their weapons once more. There was once a little boy who was everything from nothing, and he was made into a man who was nothing, and everything hummed inside his head like a beacon. The place of light was lit in flames, and the place of the darkness was full of laughter, but nobody who walked in it was laughing. The ruler of the darkness was evil, and cold, and cruel, and he cared only to see the end of those who lived in the place of light, and it was his laughter that rang out, for it was the son of nothing who had done it.
Look at what they had, he told the little boy who was now a man, and how we have taken it from them; but the little boy was not laughing.
the ghost looked at him. that is all now, he said, and he turned around and left, and he was left in the cave alone with nobody, because all of the red ghosts followed him, and then the blue ghosts too, and finally the single green ghost whose eyes were deep like shadows. be not afraid, he said, we will return. and he was alone.
--
the red ghost was the only one who told stories that started with the words he used. Listen well and follow my voice, he rasped into the dark of the cave, but the other ghosts all began with Once there was a soldier. he was not so fool as to think the difference did not have importance.
You’re doing it wrong.
he looked up. like you know better, he snapped, and felt bad, because this ghost was a tired one, and the other ghosts were frightened of him. the ghost sat down beside him, watching the littles attempt to lift the strings.
They need to see how it works. I’ll show you. Repeat.
Listen well, and follow my voice. In the old times there was a king, and the king wanted the stars to come down to his palace. He was a bad king, whose kingdom fell into ruin, because he didn’t care for the people in it. But there was a child of nothing from nowhere who remembered the stories of the old knights and knew what to do, but she didn’t know how to make anyone listen to her.
So she found a string. If she could lift the string then the people would begin to listen to her, but to lift the string, she would need to understand how the string was.
Close your eyes, little children. What do you see?
what is this supposed to do, he grumbled, but he obeyed and passed the story on. much to his surprise, one of the children piped up that they saw the Force, they saw the influence of previous beings on the string. the ghost smiled.
The girl did not understand the Force, but she knew it was Everything. All that is, all that has ever been or ever will be. The child of nothing felt everything and she reached out, and held the string with the Everything and lifted it up.
all of the children’s young brows wrinkled, and the ghost smiled when the strings twitched.
But she was no knight of ancient tales yet, for she could only lift a string, and the people would not rise up against the evil King for the sake of only a string. Now, little children, what did she do?
why is this so interactive, he asked, curious, for the little children – and indeed himself – had achieved more under this vague tutelage from the red ghost than he had ever been able to teach. because they must learn to think for themselves, said the ghost, and the strings rose up in the air and the children laughed.
Come, little children, what do you do? Yes, yes, let us pick up the string. Can you tie it into a knot, and make a shape? For that is how the child of nothing won over the people of the evil king. She found a string, and as she told the story of the good knights of the old times, she made the strings dance as if they were the very knights themselves, and the people watched her and came to believe in the Everything, and they saw that the king was a king of nothing.
What did she do, little children?
She went to the king. I will fetch you the stars, she said bravely, and he laughed, but unless you change your ways, the stars will burn your palace and everything in it. All of your kingdom will come to nothing. All of her little strings rose over her and tied into knots like drops of rain, and they span about her as the currents of the Force did, and the king saw the Everything but he did not believe in it.
Why should I, he said, and waved his hand, and commanded his people to bring him a star. But the child of nothing saw everything, and the Everything ran in her veins like blood, and she could see that the king who had everything was nothing and would have nothing.
What did she do, little children, little children?
The strings became pebbles, and the pebbles were if every colour and planet and people and place. The child of nothing became Everything, because she felt the Everything flowing through her veins. With the Force flowing through her, the child of nothing spoke to the King, and the King heard, but he did not care.
this is not a happy story, ghost. the ghost looked at him, and said nothing, but the pain he always carried was something lesser, and the story continued.
All of your people will rise up, she warned him, and he put her in his prison and forgot about her. But she had been kind, and she had helped the people to see the traces of Everything in their lives, and they remembered her. The people stood up and came together and walked to the palace of the bad king and told him that they would fetch a star if he gave them their knight, but he locked the gates, and they went away.
Now it came that many days later a star walked the fields, and he was pleased by them, but he was sad for he had wanted to meet the child of nothing, and she was nowhere to be found. Where is the knight, he asked the people, and they sighed and told him the bad king would not listen and locked her away.
Take me to him, ordered the star, for the stars were with the knights because they were part of the Everything. I will make him listen to me, for the girl of nothing who is everything was correct, and if his ways are bad I shall call my brothers and we will burn his palace, and my sisters will come and salt the ground so no riches will come from it, for she is one of our chosen ones, a knight, and she has been disrespected.
the children had all dropped their strings, entranced by the tale he passed to them. and then what, they asked, and the ghost sighed, and many of the other ghosts came and sat to listen. the story is unfinished, he said. you must finish it. that is how the stories are told. but I do not know how to finish the story, he answered. the ghost looked at him levelly. ask the children, then, and he would say nothing else.