Thursday, June 5, 2014

The Curse of The Last Swan by Karthik L

artist : sachin venkatesh
The sun’s rays found their way through the dark skies and touched the brown earth. Father Sanchez’s spirit followed the light from heaven and descended on the earth as he finished his morning prayers. He was a frail man nearing his fiftieth year. This apostle of Christ bore a striking resemblance to the depictions of his master himself with his beard and his deep soulful look. As he walked towards the door of the church one could feel a complete sense of detachment in his gait.

The church door opened to a cobbled path. Wasteland lay all around. And behind the church was the final resting place of the island’s former inhabitants. Father Sanchez stepped out and began to walk towards the small area of low shrubs and bushes a few miles from the church. Foraging for mushrooms and berries was part of his daily morning routine. That was the only source of food on the island. Father Sanchez could identify a sufficient number of edible species to sustain him. He rarely ventured into anything new. He did not need to. The explorations had already been done and the pioneers rested peacefully behind the church. On a lucky day, a fish or two might supplement his diet of mushrooms and berries.

His path was lined with battered buildings on either side, giving an appearance of an archeological excavation site. Even in their ruined state the buildings emanated signs of past glory. A perceptive observer could not but appreciate the amazing town planning. Sanchez stopped by the grandest of the ruins. After hesitating a bit, he stepped in. He was greeted by a most spectacular sight. The chamber held some of the most intricately carved statues of marble and jade set with precious rubies and emeralds. In the middle of the room was the most amazing throne made of gold of seven different colors. The next room held the kind of jewels that would have probably given the caves of Ali Baba and Alladin a run for their money. But more surprising than all these sights were Sanchez’s utter indifference to these treasures.

Sanchez ‘s eyes were frozen in a glassy expression. This had been his home where he had spent his childhood. His father Fernando had been the lord of the island. That had been a golden period. The island had been one of the richest trading hubs. Ships from far and wide would come to buy the island’s timber and iron ore. In return, they received gold, jade, marble, finest garments, exotic spices and wines. The island’s population had been really industrious. The miners and loggers worked day in and day out to keep the island’s economy ticking. Then there were the craftsmen who carved exquisite sculptures and the jewelers who fabricated intricate designs out of gold and silver. The lords, who loved a life of luxury and opulence, were great patrons of these crafts. 

Sanchez’s gaze then moved on to their family of coat of arms – a majestic swan like bird. Sanchez himself had never seen one though. But the old palace servant Rafael had told him they had abounded in his great grandfather’s days. In fact the entire island had been a lush jungle. Hunting had been a favorite pastime of the lords during his grandfather’s times. But by his father’s time, the island had become a more urban community with urban pastimes. 

His reverie over, Sanchez proceeded on his daily trek. Once again he paused as he neared the water line. One could make out the remnants of a burnt down structure. This had been the dock. It had been a buzz of activity in its time. Sanchez had vivid memories of the night the rebels burnt it down. His mind began to trace the series of events that lead to the rebellion. One thing had led to another. Disease had followed drought and then came rebellion. The island had made the workers toil hard before yielding her last reserves of wood and iron. It was too late by the time the lords realized the price of their obsession with spices, wine and arts.

Sanchez’s eyes filled with tears as he reflected over the next ten years that followed. Things had gone from bad to worse. Hunger and disease were no longer the preserve of the working classes. Death stalked the island at every corner. Some said all the luck left the island long back along with the island’s symbol of luck – the royal family’s insignia. The last swan had cursed the island with its last breath. Now the whole island lay in utter desolation. Sanchez and his church were all that remained.





Author image

About the Author :

Karthik is a Bangalore based blogger. A management consultant by profession, he has been blogging since 2008 under an unusual moniker ‘The Fool’. He is very passionate about reading and writing, especially in the science fiction and fantasy genres. He maintains two blogs – ‘Lucifer House Inc.” and “Three Realms of the Mind’ where he writes on various topics across multiple genres – fiction, poetry, satire, memoirs, book reviews, philosophy to name a few. Two of his stories have been published in anthologies and he hopes to become a full time writer someday.
 

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