Walking into a village, exhausted from the long journey, a man watched intently as his green-cloaked companion fixed his gaze upon a child playing before a door. The cloaked figure approached the child and with one fluid motion of his dagger slit the child’s throat. He had promised not to question the green man’s ways, and yet, as the blood dripping from the dagger stained the earth red, a cold sweat broke over him and questions swirled within him like violent desert winds. He could not contain himself any longer. His promise shattered like pottery against stone as words erupted, “Why did you kill the innocent child?” The green-cloaked figure did not answer. The man’s knees gave way, and the last thing he saw before the world went dark was the green cloak walking away.
Years later the man chanced upon a wild man, trudging through the hot desert sand, mumbling to himself, “When will he return? When will he return?” Concerned, the man asked if he was well and offered him some water. “That cannot quench me!” shrieked the mad wanderer as he held the man with his glittering eyes and related the tale of a day when, through the narrow streets of his village, a stranger cloaked in green came to his door.
When the tired stranger asked to lean against his door, the potter struck him with a club, kicked him into the street and said, “Move on! You disrupt my trade.” The stranger looked up from the dust with unsettling clarity. “I go now,” he said , “but you shall wander until I return.” “I have not seen my door since,” said the wild man, “nor the boy I left playing before it.”
More strange stories upcoming soon.
Ciao!