Life in a Nutshell

The Stoneman and the Singer

He saw her first, before she even realized what he was, this tiny girl with the huge voice.

She was the granddaughter. The orphan he'd heard the groundskeeper mourning over. The man was old, his wife, son-in-law and daughter had preceded him in death.

But, not this joyful bit of fluff that careened around the roses, fell laughing into the lavender and got her toes stuck in the soft dirt with a look of wonder. She worked hard with her grandfather, but covered the whole garden with happy songs that he heard in his chest long after she was asleep.

The beast on the wall saw everything.

Cursed to watch it all for centuries. The sea at his lichen covered back, the village below and the castle on his side, so righteously taken from him for his refusal to see the suffering he caused.

He was regretful finally, he understood that by refusing to know that his people were suffering with hunger and over-work had caused starvation, sickness and death. But he had ignored it as a selfish young man.

But now that's the one thing he couldn't do.

No hunger, no sleep, just an eternity of watching. His Gryphon's beak and dragon's teeth carved in stone, wings up, lion's paws and devil's tail wrapped around his haunches. The anger and selfishness had long ago been replaced by despair, depression, then acceptance and eventually contentment and peace.

He finally understood why the oracle had put him here. He was actually grateful for it. He'd been too preoccupied with his own petty desires to see the beauty, suffering and tragedy of life around him.

His heart genuinely ached when the baker's horse was lamed by a stray wagon and had to be put down. He'd seen the mare grow from a playful filly and witnessed the care and friendship between man and beast. He wished he could cry as he watched the man drape his heaving frame over the fallen animal.

He laughed when he realized the butcher's wife and her friend the seamstress, were plotting to match the young blacksmith to the dairy maid. He wished them all joy on their wedding day.

His anger was kindled when the miller cheated his customers, or a thief was caught. Yet he could do nothing but watch.

But now his days were filled with songs and chatter and the smell of milk and roses at his feet.

The little girl had found him, and his stony eyes were always on her.

"Hi Stoneman, I'm Selah. My grandad lives in the cottage right over there. He's told me to go outside and make my noise. My mom and dad are dead, so, I'm here now. May I sing to you? I love to sing."

The plain faced little one chattered and sang, danced and told him stories She petted his paws, and touched his stony teeth with her child's fingers.

He had never had so much attention, even as flesh and blood. It hit him so hard, that he felt his granite heart thaw just a little, in the spring scent of roses and lavender.

The years continued still, and Selah grew. Now the songs were beautiful and soft, the chatter became a low hum of melody and poetry. Selah was intelligent, hardworking, joyful, happy, and the Stoneman thought his heart would burst with beauty of it all.

Oh, how he wished she could see him for who he really was. He loved her so. But no. There was no cure for his condition.

So, the years continued, and Selah grew to be a woman.

The castle's heir saw Selah too, but his gaze was hungry, predatory. He was the real beast hidden in an older man's guise. Selah didn't see that though; she was a simple girl, not outwardly beautiful. Her hair was middle brown, her lips pale. Her eyes an honest grey but her face would be lost in a crowd. She had yet to turn any man's gaze, and therefore was not aware of what his interest meant.