SOMEONE IN THE SKY
There was never even a question of what came first - the Valley or the Snake in the sky. Furthermore, the question itself seemed to the people of the valley downright preposterous. The snake and the valley coexisted together, and none could be imagined without the other. Both of them were here before the people have arrived - before the miners from the East, and before the natives who claimed these lands as their own before the blight called civilization intervened, exiled and enslaved them.
But all this was of long ago. And whatever had once happened had happened, and nothing could there be done about it now, nor mayhap there should not anything be done 'bout it, so thought Ol' Jake, who was reclining in his favorite (and only) rocking chair on the veranda of his house. He had built the house nearly fifty years ago, and it still stood, and it still was of good shape and condition. Not brand new, it was, but it seemed as if the house imitated the owner - both of them looked old and weather-beaten, but sturdy and still serviceable. Such were perhaps, all the people in the valley. And so were their dwellings, then.
From where he sat, the valley opened up like a folded map, with the mountains northward looming in the distance, and the great old pines and oaks and maples that covered the valley floor in a carpet of green, the river and the lakes, the hills and fields. And above the valley, as it was supposed to be, soared the Snake in the sky.
At first glance it seemed to be of some transparent color, and thus looked pretty much like a mirage floating in the sky, maybe a group of clouds that had merged together and formed such a strange shape. However, upon closer examination, one could tell that the snake in question was no cloud or mirage. Scales covering its entire body were visible even to an unaided eye, and the solidity of form, never wavering or fading in the thin air but always keeping its serpent shape, left little doubt of the Snake's nature. Next came the fins - there were two of them, at the back of the enormous head, always in motion, slowly going up and down, up and down, as if flapping these appendages could keep the gigantic body of the snake in flight. But such was impossible, for the length of the snake was by all measures great, and the fins compared to the body reminded more of ears than of wings.
And the snake moved. It would sometimes lay still in the sky for days and even weeks, with only the graceful movements of the fins indicating that it was still alive, and then suddenly it would speed off into the sky, chasing little clouds and feasting on them, or so it seemed, for none was certain of what would be the diet of the snake in the sky. When such happened, a strong and cool breeze blew throughout the valley, and people knew without looking up that the snake was chasing clouds in the sky again, and they smiled to themselves, just like when they smiled at their children playing in the street. The Snake in the sky sometimes would vanish, even for long periods, but the oldtimers knew without a shadow of a doubt that it would return - for it always had in the past.
But all things aside, it was the eyes of the Snake in the sky that one paid attention to, the moment he would catch their lazy stare. They were serpent-like, as one might've expected them to be, yet rarely could one find a human with such deep wisdom in his eyes, as the Snake in the sky seem to have possessed. And these lake-blue eyes were without the menacing glare of vipers and rattlers, for they held not wrath and danger, but calmness and tranquility. In their glossy surface, the valley was reflected, and the valley reflected the snake back with its own mirrors - the river, the small lakes and ponds, the dew on the grass and the leaves of the trees, and the glass windowpanes of the houses. And the eyes of the snake observed it all from above, high above, and the snake reigned over the valley, and nobody wanted it to be any other way.
The snake, of course, had a name, for the settlers in the only small town that was really more of a village have long ago concluded that referring to the snake in the sky as simply as that was a trifle rude and un-neighborly at the least. But for a long time no name suitable enough had been found, until Ol' Grimmer, a miner from the older days, when there was still something to mine for, sought out the distinct similarity of the snake's head to the expression on the face of his old friend, Chester of Philly, who had had passed over a month shy of ten years to date. He claimed that Chester carried the same sly look on his face, and those who knew Chester nodded their heads in agreement with Ol' Grimmer. From then on, the snake was called upon as Ol' Chester, for everything in the valley was old, and was thus called so. And even its inhabitants eventually became not Sam Donaldson, or Jack Hue, but rather Ol' Sam From Up the Road, Ol' Jack Tobacco Pouch, and Ol' Jake the Dreamer, for he had these dreams of his, about a city of windmills, that he liked to boast about... Even the people that were never known but whose names were used often enough were named in the likewise fashion - even the saints were of no exception. Thus Saint Peter became Ol' Man Pete and Saint Paul became Ol' Man Paul, and thus even when praying in the little church over on the hill, people would begin a prayer by saying "Ah'm'been meanin' ta ask ya, Ol' Andrew, sir, couldya spair thisol' man'a'hand wi'the crops this yea'round?". And how else could it be, when even the valley itself slowly became known as the Old Valley?
However, memory is mortal, and so are people, and Ol' Grimmer passed over as surely as did his buddy Chester nearly twenty and a year before him. Some followed shortly, some kept on living, but with that they have forgotten just who Chester was, and whether or not he ever were, and thus the snake in the sky would be called sometimes Ol' Lester, and sometimes Ol' Barnes, and sometimes just Ol' Snakey, with all due politeness, though. And so it came to be that everyone in the valley had a different, their very own name for the Snake in the sky.
Nobody knew for just how long had the Valley been inhabited by people. Before the miners had come, an Indian tribe was said to have passed over the Cork mountains, fleeing the advance of the white men. And 'twas true, for sometimes one would see smoke in the forest to the north, and sometimes even see the Indian teepees from a distance, but that was it. The Indians never came close to the town which was more of a village, and neither did the villagers venture far north. Not that they were afraid of the Indians, but more of the thought of what might lie beyond the mountains to the north. For all their knowledge, it just could be the edge of the world. Or, even worse, the world without the snake in the sky.
But then the railroad came, through the former oreless mines turned into a tunnel, but it did not bring the outside world closer. The people of the Valley ignored the outside world but completely, and the world ignored them right back. Thus the train became more of a commodity than a sign of progress. The train station was not even in the town limits, but rather right next to the slopes of the mountains. Of course, there were other signs of the outside world creeping in - the telegraph, for instance, was one of them. But it was never used. The oldest of men, now not capable of doing anything, sat inside the building and kept vigil, though never did they respond to the clattering of the dreaded machine on these rare occasions when it did clatter. And so it soon seized to - either it had finally broken down, or the people from the outside world had forgotten all about the Valley. However, it was still on the maps, and thus sometimes those from the outside would come to the valley. Different people, they were. Some saw the snake and ran away, never to return, some were awe-stricken and decided to stay, and some simply refused to believe in the snake in the sky. Of these was the majority.
One day Reverend Hampton came to town. He was a new man, and new men are not used to seeing snakes in the sky. And when he did, he uttered "By the virtue of our Lord! This must be the spawn of Satan, for a serpent it is, an' no good may cometh from it! Surely the times are at end, for if the Serpent has risen here, then that means the Whore rides the Beast of nine heads o'er the lands!" So to this end he had gathered all for a service at his newly remade church over on the hill, even though no Whore upon a Beast was heard of from anywhere. Reverend Hampton then spoke of the great danger that the snake in the sky possessed, and that it was if not Lucifer himself, but surely then a spawn from his loins. With that, of course, he bade all to curse the snake in the sky and make the sign of the Cross at it whenever they may look up and see it.
As the service ended, people were walking out, wondering whether what the Reverend had said was true or not, for they could not imagine the snake to be of any evil. But the Reverend had spoken, and the people were tutored long ago by their folks, and they in turn by their folks, that there was a God who was Good and who was Right. And so they walked out, and went home, each not daring to look up to where the snake in the sky soared. But even if they had, they would have seen that the snake in the sky did not care, or mayhap did not notice them leaving the church, for it still soared above the valley as it had done before, and nothing the Reverend had said did seem to bother it.
But as the people had reached their homes, they looked up at the sky, and saw the snake, and wondered. For they were told that there was a God, and that he was Good and Right. God was in the church over on the hill, he was carved out of wood and nailed to a cross. He was also in a painting that, some had suspected, Reverend himself had drawn, of God sitting upon a cloud and surrounded by angels, but nowhere else could he be seen. And nothing had the God done to the people, and nowhere did he show his act of response to any prayer. And neither did the snake in the sky, but it at least was there, and not just in the church over on the hill, where one had to walk in order to see God, but everywhere. And when people looked up to the heavens, they saw not God who presided there, but the Snake in the sky. And the people wondered.
Next day no one came to Reverend's service. But that did not daunt Reverend Hamptons' will to cast down the Snake in the sky. He himself had drawn a huge cross over the roof of the church with white paint, thinking to scare the snake and to drive it out and away, to Hell itself, even, if necessary. But the Snake in the sky only stared at him with that curious still smile on its snout that seemed much more like a face to all the villagers below. So then Reverend climbed the roof of his church over on the hill and began reading the Holy Book out loud, shouting himself hoarse until he could shout no more. For the next day he was thus forced to drink teas of peppermint and other herbs to recover his voice, and on the day that followed he resumed the prayer. He shouted and shouted and he bellowed and bellowed at the snake in the sky that either pretended not to hear the Reverend, or mayhap the distance was all too great to carry even the Reverend's voice. The Reverend's prayers were, however, heard quite well in the vicinity, until his closest neighbor, Ol' Simon, marched over to the church on the hill and asked, in a manner fitting to be used when addressing the Reverend, to pipe down, for the Reverend hath been scaring the livestock yonder at the barn of his. Being of good heart, though having bad migraine brought about by the Reverends prayers, Ol' Simon even helped the Reverend to disembark from the roof and return to his cabin next to the church over on the hill.
Time wend by, and soon the Reverend stopped showing the Snake in the sky the sign of the Cross each time he happened to look up. Moreover, he then found it to be of some beauty, even. And on his services that were once more visited by the village folk, he spoke that all beings are equal in the face of the Lord and that all beings have a purpose that was given to them by the Lord himself. Thus, he claimed, the snake might not be of evil after all. And the people nodded and smiled and agreed with Reverend Hampton, and the snake floated over the little church over on the hill, waving its fins lazily and calmly looking the valley over.
One day Billy, the Myers son, saw the Reverend lying on the grass in front of his church and gazing in the sky, at the snake that floated over him. He bore the look of such calm and happiness that the Myers boy stopped to watch him, and when he looked up he saw that the snake was as if looking down at the Reverend with the same calm and slightly questioning look in its eyes. The boy spoke of this to his father, but nobody gave it much thought.
As all of the village folk knew, Reverend Hampton had the knack for drawing. He could also carve out of wood, and paint. Some even said that the painting of Lord on the cloud and surrounded by angels, the very same painting that was on the right wall of the little church, the Reverend had done himself. But one day the village folk were surprised to see that the cloud in the painting, which had before looked quite like a cloud, now resembled a large white serpent. And the people looked at the painting and nodded in agreement, for this was Right. At the very least, it seemed Right. And even though the local shopkeeper Edward, who received the goods from the train that now traveled once every two weeks from the town to the other side of the Cork mountains through the old mining tunnels, claimed that the Reverend had asked for paints some weeks before, the people viewed it as something that would have happened even without the Reverends help. For it was the way that things were in the Old Valley.
But all this was of long ago. And whatever had once happened had happened, and nothing could there be done about it now, nor mayhap there should not anything be done 'bout it, so thought Ol' Jake, who was reclining in his favorite (and only) rocking chair on the veranda of his house. He had built the house nearly fifty years ago, and it still stood, and it still was of good shape and condition. Not brand new, it was, but it seemed as if the house imitated the owner - both of them looked old and weather-beaten, but sturdy and still serviceable. Such were perhaps, all the people in the valley. And so were their dwellings, then.
From where he sat, the valley opened up like a folded map, with the mountains northward looming in the distance, and the great old pines and oaks and maples that covered the valley floor in a carpet of green, the river and the lakes, the hills and fields. And above the valley, as it was supposed to be, soared the Snake in the sky.
At first glance it seemed to be of some transparent color, and thus looked pretty much like a mirage floating in the sky, maybe a group of clouds that had merged together and formed such a strange shape. However, upon closer examination, one could tell that the snake in question was no cloud or mirage. Scales covering its entire body were visible even to an unaided eye, and the solidity of form, never wavering or fading in the thin air but always keeping its serpent shape, left little doubt of the Snake's nature. Next came the fins - there were two of them, at the back of the enormous head, always in motion, slowly going up and down, up and down, as if flapping these appendages could keep the gigantic body of the snake in flight. But such was impossible, for the length of the snake was by all measures great, and the fins compared to the body reminded more of ears than of wings.
And the snake moved. It would sometimes lay still in the sky for days and even weeks, with only the graceful movements of the fins indicating that it was still alive, and then suddenly it would speed off into the sky, chasing little clouds and feasting on them, or so it seemed, for none was certain of what would be the diet of the snake in the sky. When such happened, a strong and cool breeze blew throughout the valley, and people knew without looking up that the snake was chasing clouds in the sky again, and they smiled to themselves, just like when they smiled at their children playing in the street. The Snake in the sky sometimes would vanish, even for long periods, but the oldtimers knew without a shadow of a doubt that it would return - for it always had in the past.
But all things aside, it was the eyes of the Snake in the sky that one paid attention to, the moment he would catch their lazy stare. They were serpent-like, as one might've expected them to be, yet rarely could one find a human with such deep wisdom in his eyes, as the Snake in the sky seem to have possessed. And these lake-blue eyes were without the menacing glare of vipers and rattlers, for they held not wrath and danger, but calmness and tranquility. In their glossy surface, the valley was reflected, and the valley reflected the snake back with its own mirrors - the river, the small lakes and ponds, the dew on the grass and the leaves of the trees, and the glass windowpanes of the houses. And the eyes of the snake observed it all from above, high above, and the snake reigned over the valley, and nobody wanted it to be any other way.
The snake, of course, had a name, for the settlers in the only small town that was really more of a village have long ago concluded that referring to the snake in the sky as simply as that was a trifle rude and un-neighborly at the least. But for a long time no name suitable enough had been found, until Ol' Grimmer, a miner from the older days, when there was still something to mine for, sought out the distinct similarity of the snake's head to the expression on the face of his old friend, Chester of Philly, who had had passed over a month shy of ten years to date. He claimed that Chester carried the same sly look on his face, and those who knew Chester nodded their heads in agreement with Ol' Grimmer. From then on, the snake was called upon as Ol' Chester, for everything in the valley was old, and was thus called so. And even its inhabitants eventually became not Sam Donaldson, or Jack Hue, but rather Ol' Sam From Up the Road, Ol' Jack Tobacco Pouch, and Ol' Jake the Dreamer, for he had these dreams of his, about a city of windmills, that he liked to boast about... Even the people that were never known but whose names were used often enough were named in the likewise fashion - even the saints were of no exception. Thus Saint Peter became Ol' Man Pete and Saint Paul became Ol' Man Paul, and thus even when praying in the little church over on the hill, people would begin a prayer by saying "Ah'm'been meanin' ta ask ya, Ol' Andrew, sir, couldya spair thisol' man'a'hand wi'the crops this yea'round?". And how else could it be, when even the valley itself slowly became known as the Old Valley?
However, memory is mortal, and so are people, and Ol' Grimmer passed over as surely as did his buddy Chester nearly twenty and a year before him. Some followed shortly, some kept on living, but with that they have forgotten just who Chester was, and whether or not he ever were, and thus the snake in the sky would be called sometimes Ol' Lester, and sometimes Ol' Barnes, and sometimes just Ol' Snakey, with all due politeness, though. And so it came to be that everyone in the valley had a different, their very own name for the Snake in the sky.
Nobody knew for just how long had the Valley been inhabited by people. Before the miners had come, an Indian tribe was said to have passed over the Cork mountains, fleeing the advance of the white men. And 'twas true, for sometimes one would see smoke in the forest to the north, and sometimes even see the Indian teepees from a distance, but that was it. The Indians never came close to the town which was more of a village, and neither did the villagers venture far north. Not that they were afraid of the Indians, but more of the thought of what might lie beyond the mountains to the north. For all their knowledge, it just could be the edge of the world. Or, even worse, the world without the snake in the sky.
But then the railroad came, through the former oreless mines turned into a tunnel, but it did not bring the outside world closer. The people of the Valley ignored the outside world but completely, and the world ignored them right back. Thus the train became more of a commodity than a sign of progress. The train station was not even in the town limits, but rather right next to the slopes of the mountains. Of course, there were other signs of the outside world creeping in - the telegraph, for instance, was one of them. But it was never used. The oldest of men, now not capable of doing anything, sat inside the building and kept vigil, though never did they respond to the clattering of the dreaded machine on these rare occasions when it did clatter. And so it soon seized to - either it had finally broken down, or the people from the outside world had forgotten all about the Valley. However, it was still on the maps, and thus sometimes those from the outside would come to the valley. Different people, they were. Some saw the snake and ran away, never to return, some were awe-stricken and decided to stay, and some simply refused to believe in the snake in the sky. Of these was the majority.
One day Reverend Hampton came to town. He was a new man, and new men are not used to seeing snakes in the sky. And when he did, he uttered "By the virtue of our Lord! This must be the spawn of Satan, for a serpent it is, an' no good may cometh from it! Surely the times are at end, for if the Serpent has risen here, then that means the Whore rides the Beast of nine heads o'er the lands!" So to this end he had gathered all for a service at his newly remade church over on the hill, even though no Whore upon a Beast was heard of from anywhere. Reverend Hampton then spoke of the great danger that the snake in the sky possessed, and that it was if not Lucifer himself, but surely then a spawn from his loins. With that, of course, he bade all to curse the snake in the sky and make the sign of the Cross at it whenever they may look up and see it.
As the service ended, people were walking out, wondering whether what the Reverend had said was true or not, for they could not imagine the snake to be of any evil. But the Reverend had spoken, and the people were tutored long ago by their folks, and they in turn by their folks, that there was a God who was Good and who was Right. And so they walked out, and went home, each not daring to look up to where the snake in the sky soared. But even if they had, they would have seen that the snake in the sky did not care, or mayhap did not notice them leaving the church, for it still soared above the valley as it had done before, and nothing the Reverend had said did seem to bother it.
But as the people had reached their homes, they looked up at the sky, and saw the snake, and wondered. For they were told that there was a God, and that he was Good and Right. God was in the church over on the hill, he was carved out of wood and nailed to a cross. He was also in a painting that, some had suspected, Reverend himself had drawn, of God sitting upon a cloud and surrounded by angels, but nowhere else could he be seen. And nothing had the God done to the people, and nowhere did he show his act of response to any prayer. And neither did the snake in the sky, but it at least was there, and not just in the church over on the hill, where one had to walk in order to see God, but everywhere. And when people looked up to the heavens, they saw not God who presided there, but the Snake in the sky. And the people wondered.
Next day no one came to Reverend's service. But that did not daunt Reverend Hamptons' will to cast down the Snake in the sky. He himself had drawn a huge cross over the roof of the church with white paint, thinking to scare the snake and to drive it out and away, to Hell itself, even, if necessary. But the Snake in the sky only stared at him with that curious still smile on its snout that seemed much more like a face to all the villagers below. So then Reverend climbed the roof of his church over on the hill and began reading the Holy Book out loud, shouting himself hoarse until he could shout no more. For the next day he was thus forced to drink teas of peppermint and other herbs to recover his voice, and on the day that followed he resumed the prayer. He shouted and shouted and he bellowed and bellowed at the snake in the sky that either pretended not to hear the Reverend, or mayhap the distance was all too great to carry even the Reverend's voice. The Reverend's prayers were, however, heard quite well in the vicinity, until his closest neighbor, Ol' Simon, marched over to the church on the hill and asked, in a manner fitting to be used when addressing the Reverend, to pipe down, for the Reverend hath been scaring the livestock yonder at the barn of his. Being of good heart, though having bad migraine brought about by the Reverends prayers, Ol' Simon even helped the Reverend to disembark from the roof and return to his cabin next to the church over on the hill.
Time wend by, and soon the Reverend stopped showing the Snake in the sky the sign of the Cross each time he happened to look up. Moreover, he then found it to be of some beauty, even. And on his services that were once more visited by the village folk, he spoke that all beings are equal in the face of the Lord and that all beings have a purpose that was given to them by the Lord himself. Thus, he claimed, the snake might not be of evil after all. And the people nodded and smiled and agreed with Reverend Hampton, and the snake floated over the little church over on the hill, waving its fins lazily and calmly looking the valley over.
One day Billy, the Myers son, saw the Reverend lying on the grass in front of his church and gazing in the sky, at the snake that floated over him. He bore the look of such calm and happiness that the Myers boy stopped to watch him, and when he looked up he saw that the snake was as if looking down at the Reverend with the same calm and slightly questioning look in its eyes. The boy spoke of this to his father, but nobody gave it much thought.
As all of the village folk knew, Reverend Hampton had the knack for drawing. He could also carve out of wood, and paint. Some even said that the painting of Lord on the cloud and surrounded by angels, the very same painting that was on the right wall of the little church, the Reverend had done himself. But one day the village folk were surprised to see that the cloud in the painting, which had before looked quite like a cloud, now resembled a large white serpent. And the people looked at the painting and nodded in agreement, for this was Right. At the very least, it seemed Right. And even though the local shopkeeper Edward, who received the goods from the train that now traveled once every two weeks from the town to the other side of the Cork mountains through the old mining tunnels, claimed that the Reverend had asked for paints some weeks before, the people viewed it as something that would have happened even without the Reverends help. For it was the way that things were in the Old Valley.
Alex Xatchett '03
