By Dwayne Phillips
Short Story 2008-29, 19 July 2008
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Sam sat in the moonlight on the ridge. He made music by bouncing deer bones rhythmically on logs. Sam’s music flowed into the valley below. The music kept his people, the Zem, safe.
Danger lurked on the surrounding hilltops in the Filo. Two Filo scouts crouched behind rocks.
“Dag,” barked the large Gol. “Stay back or the music will poison your arrogant brain and kill your puny body.”
“You cower you stupid oaf. Not me,” spit the small, rakish Dag.
Filo attacks by day were foolish. The music prevented attack by night. Therefore, they waited for a night without music when they would take the valley. The rich soil would provide abundant crops, and the hills would block punishing weather.
Sam played music from dusk until dawn as his ancestors did for generations. He slept during the day in a cool, dark cave. This was his life since his father selected him to play the music that kept the Filo away.
On this day, Sam woke in the afternoon. He succumbed to temptation and walked out into the sunlight. Dag and Gol saw Sam. Dag recklessly rushed at Sam, and they captured him.
“Tell us the magic of the music. The magic that drives our people away in a mad frenzy,” ordered Dag.
Sam silently endured blows from the two Filo. If he resisted long enough, Zem lookouts would rescue him, but one blow knocked Sam’s deer bones from his belt. Sam glanced at them, and Dag noticed the longing look.
“The magic is in the bones,” snarled Dag. “We have the magic now.”
* * * * * * *
The sun burned Sam’s eyes as he lay staked to the valley floor. His hands and feet were a bloody pulp. In the quiet night, the Filo attacked, killed many of the Zem, and scattered the rest.
Sam heard the Filo celebrating wildly in the distance. Sam's mother and several lost Zem children "rescued" him. They cut his bonds and dragged him slowly back to the ridge. The children leaned Sam against a rock and rolled logs within his reach. Sam’s mother tied sticks to his hands.
“Son,” said Sam’s mother. “It is time for your music to drive the Filo mad.”
“Mother, the magical deer bones are gone.”
“Son, there was no magic in those bones. The magic is the love in our family. The music contains love while the Filo’s hearts only hold hatred. That is why the music frightens them.”
Sam tapped the logs. The tone was poor yet the music was rich in love.
* * * * * * *
The Zem still live in the valley. The soil is rich, and the surrounding hills block harsh weather. There is no music from the ridge at night. It is not needed as the Filo exterminated themselves in one evening of insanity.
Sam lays in the sunlight on the ridge. The Zem buried him there under soil from the valley.
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Dwayne's Home Page
Email me at
d.phillips@computer.org