The Lieutenant found this drug dealer fascinating. Here was a man who could probably barely write his own name, but had spent so much of his life scanning the faces on that street for potential customers, that he could tell in an instant if they were on their way to work, school or home, or if they were looking for an illicit substance and what that illicit substance was. This individual was so amoral that he would sell anyone enough heroin to kill themselves without a second thought, but somehow he wanted to see these two complete strangers meet and have a happy ending. The Lieutenant and the drug dealer spoke for a while, the dealer telling him that he was positive the young lady would call him back and the officer promising that if she did, he would send the dealer a postcard from Saigon. A short while later, they parted ways as the drug dealer went back across the street and the Lieutenant headed to his hotel with the dealer’s address in his wallet and the hope that one day he would be mailing that postcard from Saigon in Vietnam.
And the dealer was to be proven right, for despite all the Lieutenant’s fears that she might have second thoughts and never call, at exactly noon, the phone rang and by that night they were married.
“I love weddings! Did they have a flower girl?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Was it a big wedding?”
“No, remember I said they got married the day after they met. I believe it was at the city hall.”
“Really? The next day? How did they know they were in love?”
“The minute they saw each others’ eyes there was magic.“
“Why didn’t they wait so that their friends and family could have been there?”
“Well, you see little one, my friend was in the army, and not just the regular army, but a division of the army that is known as Special Forces. That is the most difficult part of any military unit to join, the part with the hardest of training. Training that is so tough that most men give up before completing it. But my friend completed the entire course and shortly after his graduation was assigned as an officer to a unit stationed in Europe. He was only in New York City for two days before he was to fly overseas and so that is why they got married so quickly. The day after the wedding, she drove him to JFK Airport for the flight that would take him to his army unit at their base in Europe.”
“Couldn’t she go to Europe too?”
“Normally, yes, but he knew that he was only to be in Europe for a short while before they would be deployed to fight in Southeast Asia. Their mission was to help the people of a country called Cambodia fight against a group known as the Khmer Rouge, a communist backed guerrilla army who were trying to take over the country. The night before they were to depart, my friend’s entire unit was given a final night’s leave. Being young of course, they went in search of the nearest bar, which happened to be in a little fishing town not too far from their base. Once there, my friend got fairly inebriated.”
“What is inebriated?” the girl asked struggling to pronounce the unfamiliar word.
“Hmmm,” the man said while stroking his chin thoughtfully, “He became a little too intoxicated.”
The child still looked confused.
“How can I explain? Let us just say that he consumed too many beverages with an unusually high alcoholic content that temporarily impaired his better judgment.”
“Oh!” the child exclaimed, “He got drunk!”
“Very astute for such a small child,” the man chuckled.
The child beamed proudly at the compliment as he continued his story. “Now this… getting drunk is not the brightest of ideas, but even very wise men have been known to do it on occasion. As the evening wore on, my friend eventually became separated from his fellow soldiers. Without any money to get a taxi back to the base he found himself wandering down the wharf, where he saw a small, two man fishing boat tied to a dock. Its sails were down and neatly folded with the nets at the bottom of the boat. Deciding that the owner probably would not mind if he waited there ‘til morning when a bus could get him back to his unit, he got in the boat, laid down on the sails and within minutes had fallen asleep to the gentle rocking of the small vessel.
Suddenly, my friend was awakened by a small bump. Rousing himself from his slumber, he looked around and quickly realized that the boat was no longer tied to the dock. Somehow, while he was sleeping, it must have slipped loose of its mooring. The bump that had awakened him was the boat drifting ashore on a small stretch of beach, surrounded by tall sheer cliffs. He could see no signs of life and the only light was coming from the cloudless night sky.
Now, he was really starting to worry. He had no idea where he was, let alone how to get back to where he should be. He worried that if he was not at his base by morning, he would officially be declared away without leave, possibly even charged with desertion. If he could not find his way back to civilization, his family would not know what had happened to him. No one would have any idea where to look for him and his worst fear was that some might think that he had deserted his fellow soldiers, right before they were to go into combat.
Desperately, he looked about for any signs of life but all he could see was sand, cliffs and the ocean. Then, as he turned his gaze upwards to see if there was a possible way to scale the cliffs, he saw an unusual but welcome sight. Set high atop the rocks, silhouetted in the light of that evening’s full moon, was an enormous medieval castle. It was a fascinating collection of walls and buildings, ramparts and towers but the sight he found the most fascinating was the orange glow of a light emanating from the highest window, in the highest tower.
Rationalizing, that where there was light, there must be people, and also that whoever had built the castle, must have arranged a way to get to it from the beach, he slowly started to search along the cliff’s bottom edge. After walking only several yards, he noticed hidden in the dimness, a series of steps cut into the rock leading upward.”
“What did he do?” the child inquired eagerly.
“Well, what would you have done?” the man countered.
“I would have climbed up those stairs!”
“Amazing, because that’s exactly what he did.”
The Mountain
(Instrumental)
“The closer he got to the castle, the more magical it seemed. The walls appeared more massive, the towers more mysterious. When he finally reached the top, he saw the castle’s main gate. It had two large stone gargoyles set in the wall above it, keeping silent vigil over this hidden kingdom but more importantly he noticed its large drawbridge was lowered, allowing him to easily enter its courtyard. Once again, scanning the skyline, he located the lit room and made a mental note as to its location and then started to try to discover a way to reach it. After trying several doors, he located one that was slightly ajar and with a gentle tug it slowly creaked open on its rusty hinges. Upon entering, he found himself within a great hall. It was a large, cavernous room, with a high vaulted ceiling supported by giant stone pillars. Directly across from the entrance, above a wooden throne on a raised platform, moonlight streamed through a large circular window that was missing most of its glass. Large arched windows, bereft of all glass, were set high in the walls on either side of the room, allowing him to clearly see the stars outside as well as a view of the lit tower room, so tantalizingly close, but still so far.
Unexpectedly, he saw the figure of a snow-white bird glide through one of the windows and alight on a wrought iron torch holder mounted into the stone masonry. As he looked closer, he realized that the bird was a falcon. The bird momentarily gazed at him and then once more took to flight. With an airborne dancer’s ease, the falcon flew to the very top of the vaulted ceiling, before arcing back down. Her trajectory had the bird flying so close to my friend that he could feel the wind from her wings as she turned and flew towards an old tapestry hanging on a distant wall. There the bird suddenly disappeared. Running over to the area, my friend quickly discovered that at the spot where the falcon had vanished from sight, the tapestry had a fairly large tear and the remaining tapestry concealed nearly all of an entrance to an upwardly winding staircase.
Following the bird as quickly as he could, it was all he could do to keep her in sight as she flew up various stairways, down halls both long and short, through rooms both large and small. Some of the rooms contained sculptures and paintings, some ancient weapons of every type, others strange but oddly familiar mechanical devices and one that was filled with countless timepieces and clocks. Several of the timepieces were still ticking. He was so fascinated by this, that only the fear of losing sight of his swift winged guide prevented him from stopping to take a closer look. His instinct to not slow down proved correct as he nearly missed seeing the falcon fly through an open door that led to a series of sharply winding, extremely steep steps. He reached the top of the stairs just in time to see the falcon fly through an open arched doorway. Instantly, he realized that this was the room that he had been seeking. He could clearly see that the orange light he had observed from outside was emanating from a large ornately carved fireplace. The fire was happily consuming a healthy supply of logs and in return was generously spilling out its warmth and light to all.
Night Castle
(Lieutenant)
I HAVE BEEN THIS WAY BEFORE
CHECK EACH WINDOW
EVERY DOOR
FOR A PASSAGE THROUGH
THIS NIGHT
THIS NIGHT
BUT EACH HALLWAY
ENDS THE SAME
EVERY DOOR’S BEEN
CHECKED IN VAIN
FOR A WAY TO REACH THAT LIGHT
THAT LIGHT
AS I MOVE IN DEEPER
TOWARDS THIS CASTLE’S KEEPER
EVERY STAIR SEEMS STEEPER
AM I RISKING MY OWN LIFE
MY LIFE
THEN A FALCON IN THE AIR
LOOKING DOWN
RETURNS MY STARE
WHILE SHE’S CIRCLING AROUND
AROUND
THEN SHE DIVES STRAIGHT TOWARDS A WALL
THEN SHE ISN’T THERE AT ALL
AND IS GONE WITHOUT A SOUND
NO SOUND
I HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO FOLLOW
WHAT WAS SOLID NOW IS HOLLOW
STAIRWAYS HIDDEN BEHIND CURTAINS
REALIZING NOTHING IS CERTAIN
SUDDENLY UP STAIRS I’M CLIMBING
THEN THROUGH HALLWAYS TWISTED, WINDING
THIS FALCON ON HER ENDEAVOR
DO THESE STAIRS JUST GO FOREVER
ON
AND IN THAT ROOM
AN OLD MAN SITTING THERE
HE’S WRITING NOTES
AND DROPS THEM IN THE AIR
SOMEWHERE OUTSIDE
UPON AN OCEAN BREEZE
WHICH TAKES THEM OUT
PAST WHERE THE EYE CAN SEE
