Butter
a long, long time ago, when the sky was not so faraway from the earth, the sun king had in his palace a flock of forty golden geese. the magnificent creatures bore on them tiny stars that glittered when their wings swept the sky twice a day, first, when night gave way to morning, just before dawn rose; then, on the cusp of the afternoon, when the lights softly fell into a graceful dusk.
the geese were the sun king's most beloved treasure. everyday, he would take time to comb and feed them all by himself. but he soon realised that amidst all his solar and kingly duties, he could no longer spare the time to attend to them in person. he took his woes to his sister, the moon, for counsel.
the moon was not cruel, just indifferent, and had no particular wish to entertain her brother. without much thought, she suggested that he take a human-girl to care for his geese. for humans are so good with these things, she said, look at how they do on earth, and she lifted a corner of a cloud to show him a village, where people were busy going about their days, herding animals, or tending to fields and vineyards.
so, on his next daily voyage across the world, the sun leaned down from his carriage, took a girl standing by the river, and ripped her away with ease. in a single moment, her seventeen years on earth became naught. her life was no longer hers, but gripped in the burning hands of the sun. no one saw, but perhaps it would be wicked to say that no one cared. humans tend to care, unlike heavenly bodies above.
when the girls' family realised her disappearance, they were utterly distraught. her father and mother were no wealthy folks, and had only one daughter. she had been their hope that their old days would not be so lonely, and now she was gone, nowhere to be found. her betrothed, a boy of the same age from the village, joined them in sorrow. words of their loss spread to nearby towns and cities. for months, they looked for her everywhere. alas, how could their mortal eyes see pass the glimmering clouds and brilliant sunlight above? the pitiful prisoner of the sun's palace sat by a sky-well, watching her parents and lover's anguish while she bathed and combed the king's geese, and let their golden feathers fell all about her.
in the beginning, the girl had hoped. she would prick her finger, let her blood run to use as ink, then tore pieces of her apron and used the feathers as quills to write to her family and let them know of her fate. before letting the geese out in the morning, she would carefully fold and tie her letters to their necks like little collars, then prayed that someone would find her message. in her dreams, a hunter would shoot the geese in their flight, and someone would come knocking on the palace gate, to take her home at last.
yet, all were in vain. day after day, she waited and waited. day after day, the geese came back with the letters still unopened on their golden necks.
the search for the girl continued for a while. some fervent-hearted even carried on for years, but eventually, they all stopped. how could anyone blame them? unlike heavenly bodies, humans only live once, and very often, only for a short while. we cannot afford eternity, so we make do with moving on. from the sky-well, the girl saw her parents grew old and died, never knowing what had become of their daughter. she watched, as her beloved found another goose-girl to wed, and before long had little children of their own, with locks of flaxen hair gleaming like goose-feathers when they play in the sun.
one spring day, after the sun had gone out on his charriot, the goose girl went to the palace kitchen, took a butcher's knife, and cut off the geese's heads. one by one, she dropped them, necks still tied with all her love and longing, down the sky-well. afterwards, she stabbed herself in the heart. the sun king, by then already many miles from his palace, turned to see his geese falling from the heaven like shooting stars. as they fell, blood spilled from their bodies, golden like champagne over the earth.
where their blood touched the ground, flowers sprung up and bloomed, stainings the hillside a buttery gold colour.
