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A Secret Once upon a time in a land not so far away there came another ordinary day. It is an ordinary day that always comes. This day came to Aggie McPartland in a dream. In this dream she met with the one she dreaded meeting most. The one they call the Soulskin Stalker. He didn't`t recognize her at first but he recognized the rhyme that she chanted, “One for silver, This made him stop in his tracks. He turned around to see a woman who threw off the mask she had been wearing. Behind the mask there was no face only two pits of black ink where eyes might once have shone. He started to run but his feet took him no further. “What’s the hurry then?” enquired Aggie, “aren’t you pleased to see me?” “What do you want?” snapped the Soulskin Stalker. “You know what I want, replied Aggie. “I want back what you have stolen from me. I want back me soulskin,” “Oh, that old thing,” replied the Soulskin Stalker. “I’ve no use for it anymore. Sure you can have it back. No problem lady, you take with my thanks.” The Soulskin Stalker took out of his pocket a brightly colored rag and threw it onto the ground. “There’s your soulskin back. Can I go now?” he asked with a slight nervousness that he was not used to experiencing. Aggie looked at the colored rag. This old rag of many colors was the one thing that she longed to hold more than anything else in the world. This is what she most longed to hold in all the worlds that she had traveled in search of her missing soulskin. Now this rag of brightness lay in the dust. It was so near to her and yet so very far away. She did not allow the Soulskin Stalker to see her fear. “Sure you can go,” advised Aggie, “when I’ve shared with you some secrets. You like secrets don’t you? I’m sure you wouldn't’t want to miss some juicy secrets that you can share with your other thieving brethren now would you?” The Soulskin Stalker was not quite sure. He thought it might be best to give up on these secrets for this one time so that he might get away from his surprise visitor. Except that for the moment he didn't’t have much choice. “Ok, let me into your bitter little secrets,” he asked with contempt. And so it was that Aggie McPartland began to tell the secrets of what it is to live without a Soulskin. “You know, they say that the soulskin is stolen when the person who owns it is off swimming in the sea or is off playing with their friends. They say that when they return the soulskin is gone and that it is hidden in a place so near that they cannot find it. But that’s not the only way that it is stolen is it?” she enquired of the Stalker. The stalker did not answer but kept his eyes to the ground. Aggie continued, “They don’t tell you that there’s many a way to steal a soulskin. One way is to cut it away from the living body, cut by little cut by little cut until it is a relief to let it go. It is a relief to let go the one thing that means you are alive. You let go so that you might survive. Do you remember that?” asked Aggie of the Soulskin Stalker who now began to tremble. “You know that when the soulskin is stolen the fire goes out. This is the fire that needs no wood. Except that it doesn't’t completely go out as you know. You are left only to wander and to keep on wandering. You journey in dark woods. You visit castles in the air and it is said that you are often away with the fairies. I have often been away with the fairies myself,” advised Aggie. “They invite you to come away with a gentle invitation.” Come away human child to the water “This is not like your invitation, is it?” she enquired of the Soulskin Stalker. “Not your special invitation. The one that rhymes, one for sorrow, two for gold and three for a secret never to be told. Three for a secret never, never to be told,” she repeated “Is that it?” enquired the Soulskin Stalker. Aggie ignored the question. “When the soulskin
is stolen you get lots and lots of visitors. Did you know that?
What visit you are the predators. These are the men in blue beards
and the wizards with wands whose magic is no more. These are the
hungry ghosts that feed of what little flesh you have left to
keep you warm. Then there are those who are the worse predators
of all. These are the Ferrymen. The ones who promise you that
they will take you to the other shore where they say your soulskin
is waiting. Only you have to pay and pay and you keep on paying. “OK, let me have a few more of your precious secrets, then I think I really need to go. You see I have an appointment with a nice little piece of rag if you know what I mean,” winked the Soulskin Stalker. Aggie replied quietly, “Sure, some more secrets and then you can be on your way to your little piece of rag.” So she continued, “Without your soulskin you have to wear a mask until you forget that that is what it is. There are no more amazing days, there are no more banquet moments or little pieces of heaven left around for you to pick up. There is never any feasting on your life or welcoming home the one who has loved you best.” The Soulskin Stalker smiled. “You’re breaking my heart.” “Except, continued Aggie, “Except that
in a land not so far away from here there comes an ordinary day.
This ordinary day always comes. One day you finally know what
you had to do and began - though the voices around you kept shouting
their bad advice – though the whole house began to tremble
and you felt the old tug at your ankles. This is that one day,”
said Aggie. “Just one last secret,” advised Aggie. She moved toward the Soulskin Stalker and whispered in his ear. Then she backed away as he began to shake. The shaking began to build slowly. Then it became more violent. Finally the shaking got so bad that he fell apart and turned to dust. Aggie repeated her last secret aloud, “Never is too long a time to live without your soulskin.” Aggie did not smile. There was no sense of triumph. For the first time in a long time she felt again the fire that needed no wood. She threw down her mask and reached down into the dust that was once a Soulskin Stalker. She picked up a brightly colored rag that lay beside the dust and put it on. Aggie McPartland turned on her heal and woke up. In her head she was singing a strange little rhyme, “One for silver, © Tony Cuckson 2006 RECOMMENDED READING
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Tony Cuckson is a storyteller, writer, workshop leader and Anam cara (Soul Friend) .
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