Stephen Cosgrove<\/p>\n
___<\/p>\n
CHAPTER THREE<\/p>\n
The tides passed quickly, and as the light times became lon-<\/p>\n
ger and hotter the pod again began moving in the great migration,<\/p>\n
following the sweet taste and tease of the colder waters at the top of<\/p>\n
the world. We had done this many times before and each time the<\/p>\n
trip filled the song with new verses of the trials of living as a whale.<\/p>\n
As we made the journey we rarely slowed during the tides of the<\/p>\n
golden light, stopping only to feed at the silverside, the dark times,<\/p>\n
when the pod rested, tired from our long travels. After eating, the<\/p>\n
others of my age would all gather at the edge of the pod and play.<\/p>\n
The play was totally focused around Cacophony\u2019s domination. He<\/p>\n
bullied us all mercilessly for every small infraction of his rules that<\/p>\n
he felt we had committed. After our verbal punishments, he would<\/p>\n
make up a new game with his rules, which we would all play. His<\/p>\n
rules unfortunately always ended with \u201cCacophony wins!\u201d<\/p>\n
Early one silverside tide as we gathered away from the<\/p>\n
feeding pod, floating idly on the surface telling tales of the day\u2019s<\/p>\n
journey, Cacophony, quieter than usual, silently disappeared down<\/p>\n
into the sea. Our songs were filled with laughter that infused such<\/p>\n
events when, suddenly, the waters erupted and, as if from nowhere,<\/p>\n
Cacophony launched himself from below the surface crashing into<\/p>\n
our midst in a cascade of water and spray. Moments later he again<\/p>\n
breached sending foaming kicker waves over our heads.<\/p>\n
Over and over, he leaped high into the air as we sputtered<\/p>\n
and complained but still looked on in admiration and envy. Finally,<\/p>\n
I followed him below the surface to watch as he dropped like a rock<\/p>\n
down into the water. With a mighty flip of his tail and the muscular<\/p>\n
pulling of his flukes, he shot straight up through the surface into<\/p>\n
the air.<\/p>\n
Eagerly, I imitated Cacophony\u2019s moves and found myself<\/p>\n
quite unexpectedly launched from the sea. The dryside surround-<\/p>\n
ed me as I exploded from the water and for a brief moment felt as<\/p>\n
though I was suspended there, my friends looking up in awe from<\/p>\n
below. Then my flight came to an abrupt end, and I crashed heavily<\/p>\n
back down onto the waves. I vented and dove, breaching again and<\/p>\n
again, a little higher each time. Cacophony followed, and the sea<\/p>\n
was filled with our laughter.<\/p>\n
Our raucous behavior caused the feathered-furies to gather.<\/p>\n
Assuming that our frenzy of activity was a hunt, they wheeled about<\/p>\n
the dry sky, searching for some opportunistic meal. Suddenly, I<\/p>\n
breached so high that I found myself eye-to-eye with one of these<\/p>\n
feathered flesh-eaters. Without thinking of the consequences, I<\/p>\n
opened my mouth and snapped tightly on this creature whose broth-<\/p>\n
ers had caused me so much fear on the day of my birth. For, you<\/p>\n
see, I hoped to show this feathery thing the wet side of the world<\/p>\n
and to see how well he flew beneath the water. He was of a different<\/p>\n
mind and instead, all that remained was a mouthful of tail feathers,<\/p>\n
and the rest of him went screeching away.<\/p>\n
By now, the whole pod was lurching from the sea, reaching<\/p>\n
for the sky. The world was filled with giggles, bubbles, laughter,<\/p>\n
and froth. All of the young whales were breaching, save one, the<\/p>\n
young fat whale called Adagio. Try though he did, Adagio could<\/p>\n
not burst up through the water into the dryside. Soon Cacophony<\/p>\n
began to swim round and round berating the chubby whale. But no<\/p>\n
matter how hard he tried, Adagio could not breach and finally rested<\/p>\n
at the surface, his eyes closed exhausted from the exertion. Then,<\/p>\n
without warning, he rose into the air with a \u201cwhoosh.\u201d Cacophony<\/p>\n
had surfaced just below him, ramming him out of the world and into<\/p>\n
the sky above.<\/p>\n
Adagio\u2019s eyes, at first wide with fear, squinted in twinkles of<\/p>\n
joy, as Cacophony breached beneath him again and again. Over<\/p>\n
and over, Adagio was hurled into the dryside.<\/p>\n
As we thus played there came a strange ominous tone echo-<\/p>\n
ing in the sea, a harsh, metallic noise full of disharmony. It was a<\/p>\n
tune, yet not quite a song, a buzzing, a roar. The adult pod urgently<\/p>\n
called us down to the deep, away from the surface, \u201cCome away<\/p>\n
from the surface!\u201d they called, \u201cSandwalkers approach on their<\/p>\n
shell-sharks!\u201d<\/p>\n
We didn\u2019t know then of shell-sharks and sandwalkers but<\/p>\n
the call was so insistent that we dropped down into the world and<\/p>\n
safety: Melody, Percussion, Metronome, and I. But Adagio stayed<\/p>\n
at the surface, for he had not heard the cries of warning and was<\/p>\n
oblivious to the danger approaching. He was the slow one and<\/p>\n
the thrill of being blasted into the air by Cacophony had dulled his<\/p>\n
senses. Soon, even he began to realize that there was danger. But<\/p>\n
every time he tried to retreat down into the world and safety, he was<\/p>\n
popped back to the dryside by the obsessed older whale. He dove<\/p>\n
again and again, but each time, Cacophony shoved him back to the<\/p>\n
surface. The game had worn thin, and Adagio\u2019s pleasure turned<\/p>\n
to pain as he was rammed over and over. To add to the frightening<\/p>\n
confusion of the small whale was the shrilly screaming noise of the<\/p>\n
shell-sharks as they raced closer and closer.<\/p>\n
Cacophony, obsessed with his brutal play, loudly sang as he<\/p>\n
relentlessly rammed the helpless smaller whale, \u201cNothing to fear,<\/p>\n
lump-fin whale. Nothing to fear! Only a puny sandwalker in a shell-<\/p>\n
shark. Come, up we go!\u201d As the first of two shell-sharks screamed<\/p>\n
across the surface he again rammed Adagio viciously up out of the<\/p>\n
water and into their path. The water churned, bubbling to confu-<\/p>\n
sion, as one of the shell-sharks ripped across the back of Adagio<\/p>\n
and then both sped away, their harsh droning fading to silence.<\/p>\n
As quickly as the scare had begun, so was it over. The world<\/p>\n
softened once again, and the surface smoothed. Relieved, we sur-<\/p>\n
faced, laughing at our escape. Adagio floated nearby; his eyes still<\/p>\n
glazed with fright.<\/p>\n
But, something was wrong; very, very wrong. Adagio, softly<\/span><\/p>\n first, then louder, began screaming in discord, pain. My friends<\/p>\n and I rushed to him and only then did we realize that the sea was<\/p>\n turning red from the deep slices across his back! His song stopped<\/p>\n as suddenly as it started, and he began to fall into the sleep of the<\/p>\n deep. We all pressed close to him, holding his limp form above the<\/p>\n world so he could breathe. Like the clanging of rock on rock, we<\/p>\n sang a song of our fear and panic as the rest of the pod raced to<\/p>\n our aid.<\/p>\n Wispy mists of clouds began to gather on the darkening<\/p>\n horizon of the world as we supported Adagio. Winds from the dry-<\/p>\n side whipped the sea into an angry froth as we rocked on the waves<\/p>\n as one. Cacophony circled about us, laughing, \u201cLet him sink into<\/p>\n the deep! Let him fall into the final sleep!\u201d Though he taunted and<\/p>\n railed, we continued to press inward passing our warmth and life into<\/p>\n the unconscious Adagio. At last, we could hear the mass of the<\/p>\n pod calling for us to hold on. My mother, Rhapsody, broke the sur-<\/p>\n face near us and moved in beside me and offered her bulk to relieve<\/p>\n some of the pressure from Adagio\u2019s dead weight.<\/p>\n She sang in staccato, \u201cHow did this happen?\u201d<\/p>\n Melody, Percussion, Metronome, and I all remained silent.<\/p>\n No song did we sing as we watched, waiting for Cacophony to admit<\/p>\n his part in this tragedy. Then, Cacophony began to sing in his<\/p>\n crude, raking voice, \u201cIt was the white one, Harmony who wouldn\u2019t<\/p>\n let him swim away!\u201d<\/p>\n I started to object, but was stopped curtly by my mother who<\/p>\n sang, \u201cSilence! We will deal with this later. For now–silence–so the<\/p>\n injured one can sleep. He will live, though scarred.\u201d<\/p>\n It was then that Adagio opened his pain-filled eyes. Haltingly,<\/p>\n he sang a simple song, \u201cIt was not Harmony . . . It was the other,<\/p>\n the one called . . .\u201d At that moment, whether by accident or design,<\/p>\n Cacophony, buoyed by a wind-whipped wave, came crashing down<\/p>\n on Adagio\u2019s head, shoving him back down into the world. Cacoph-<\/p>\n ony\u2019s massive body lay passively on Adagio, forcing the life from<\/p>\n his lungs.<\/p>\n I knew what Cacophony was attempting to do, and I rammed<\/span><\/p>\n at his side, vainly trying to break Adagio free. I hammered and<\/span><\/p>\n hammered, finally bowling the larger whale from Adagio\u2019s still form.<\/span><\/p>\n Cacophony, in fear of being further implicated, sounded deep and<\/span><\/p>\n soon was lost from sight at the bottom of the world\u2019s gloom. In a<\/span><\/p>\n blind rage, I followed him, diving deeper than I had ever dived before.<\/span><\/p>\n Finally, near the bottom of the world I found him, or rather<\/p>\n he found me. Out of the murkiness, he lunged, crushing his mighty<\/p>\n head into my side, rolling me over and over. Before I could recov-<\/p>\n er, he attacked again and again. Finally drawing all of my fear into<\/p>\n strength, I twisted my body and lashed my tail out as he passed<\/p>\n smashing him full in the face. He was stunned, and before he could<\/p>\n return to the attack again, I charged and rammed his exposed flank.<\/p>\n Bubbles burst from his mouth, more from shock than pain.<\/p>\n Suddenly, a voice sang out. \u201cYour violence must stop. Ada-<\/p>\n gio is dead!\u201d<\/p>\n All of the pent-up anger within me vented like soiled air, and I<\/p>\n went limp. With a final blow, Cacophony slapped me viciously with<\/p>\n his fluke, and then he, too, was gone. So dazed was I that as a new<\/p>\n form appeared I tensed for battle.<\/p>\n \u201cAnger not for I am Tympani, the singer of the Song of the Sea.\u201d<\/p>\n With a heavy flip of his tail, Tympani began the climb back to<\/p>\n the golden light. Stiffly, I followed remembering my mother teaching<\/p>\n me of Tympani, the Scribe, the recorder — the singer of the Song of<\/p>\n the Sea. The Scribe only watches and remembers.<\/p>\n At this time in my life, how I sorely wished that I could be an<\/p>\n observer, rather than the participant I was.<\/p>\n We broke the surface together, and Tympani began to create<\/p>\n and sing a lament to Adagio, a working verse of the Song of the<\/p>\n Sea. In dulcet tones, he began singing of the first tide, the begin-<\/p>\n ning of the pod. He sang of all the beauty of the waves and the<\/p>\n taste of the tides. He sang of the great whales of the sea. He sang<\/p>\n of the births, deaths, loves, and battles of the pod since the song<\/p>\n began at the beginning of time. Ghosting sounds echoed from the<\/p>\n deep as other whales hesitantly joined in the chorus here and there.<\/p>\n Together they sang through the births of the young whales and<\/p>\n finally of Adagio\u2019s death, the last and latest verse, for now, in the<\/p>\n Song of the Sea.<\/p>\n As Tympani finished, there was a low silence broken only<\/p>\n by the lonely sound of the wind whispering over the waves. After a<\/p>\n time, sure that Tympani was finished and there were no echoes to<\/p>\n the song, I asked, \u201cWhy do we sing?\u201d<\/p>\n The old whale chuckled and said, \u201cSinging is the soul of the<\/p>\n thinking creature \u2013 its memory is the song. It is the primary differ-<\/p>\n ence between whale and their cousins and the other creatures of<\/p>\n the sea. We remember. Every whale plays an important role in the<\/p>\n song. Symphony is the Director, the leader of the pod who guides<\/p>\n us where we go. He sets the tempo for the song to be sung. Old<\/p>\n Philosophy, the Composer, sets the deep emotional mood for the<\/p>\n song as he challenges the reality of all circumstances. He gives<\/p>\n theme to the music, and purpose to our being.\u201d<\/p>\n From the deep, came the rumbling gastric mumbling of Ca-<\/p>\n cophony, \u201cWhat a mouthful of carp bile!\u201d<\/p>\n Tympani ignored the interruption and continued, \u201cAnd I have<\/p>\n the proudest, yet loneliest part of the song for I am Scribe, the<\/p>\n recorder of the song for the pod. For I must stand off and watch,<\/p>\n listen and record all as it is sung. No matter what violence threat-<\/p>\n ened the pod, whether from the waters of life themselves or by the<\/p>\n lowly sandwalkers, I cannot be involved. For, the Scribe must never<\/p>\n interfere. The Scribe must only listen and remember the Song of the<\/p>\n Sea and pass it on before he dies.\u201d<\/p>\n I was caught now in this net of intrigue–captured by the<\/p>\n song and all its melodies. \u201cAnd who will you pass the song on<\/p>\n to?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n The old whale paused in the water and floated quietly, \u201cIt is<\/p>\n the tradition of the pod that positions of responsibility be passed on<\/p>\n from father or mother to son or daughter. So by what has passed<\/p>\n before, I must pass the song to my son.\u201d He paused, and then con-<\/p>\n tinued, \u201cHowever, my son carries but one toneless melody. My son<\/p>\n is . . . Cacophony!\u201d<\/p>\n From the deep rolled oily, maniacal laughter.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Stephen Cosgrove ___ CHAPTER THREE The tides passed quickly, and as the light times became lon- ger and hotter the pod again began moving in the great migration, following the sweet taste and tease of the colder waters at the top of the world. We had done this many times before and each time the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":{"0":"post-1326","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","6":"category-uncategorized","7":"entry"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/stephencosgrove.com\/bookstore\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1326","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/stephencosgrove.com\/bookstore\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/stephencosgrove.com\/bookstore\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stephencosgrove.com\/bookstore\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stephencosgrove.com\/bookstore\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1326"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/stephencosgrove.com\/bookstore\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1326\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1327,"href":"https:\/\/stephencosgrove.com\/bookstore\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1326\/revisions\/1327"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/stephencosgrove.com\/bookstore\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1326"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stephencosgrove.com\/bookstore\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1326"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/stephencosgrove.com\/bookstore\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1326"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}