THE DANCING STAR
Josep Ballester...
Translated from the Catalan by Sandra Dermark.
CHAPTER ONE
No one who does not have chaos within them can give birth to a dancing star.
Friedrich Nietzsche.
Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn, as soon as he got up in bed, thought: "Today I'm going to the Main Square to see the brand new fountain they have put smack dab in the middle of the square, walk the streets, walk the promenade, walk the narrow old backstreets, to see what's going on in the village. Perhaps or surely I will become aware of something that happened last night while I slept. It's possible that the shopkeeper has burst into laughter and fallen into the water tank and gotten out with a cart full of goldfish, or a fishbowl full of hay, in her grasp. Who knows? Maybe the husband of the Moon, of the silver white Moon, was going down to the ground floor to find an olive-tree-greenish glove which their daughter had forgotten upon returning from playing and skipping rope to the tune of the song called 'Dance of the buzzer-buzzers at the bottom of the rabbit hole.' Or maybe Harry Frothystride had had a finger stuck to his nose from when he mocked the hairstyling lady-lizards when the latter curled the hair of Granny Chardface on the market place.
Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn broke his fast. Roger Rococo lives in a house where everything remains like it was ever before. The rooftop is on top, like ever before, above his bedroom, and his bedroom is beneath the rooftop, like ever before. From his bedroom window the view is always the same; the sun rises at dawn, and its rays eagerly stroke the tree-lined promenade before the school opposite his place. At night, on nights with a moon, the moon beams with a long and lustful kiss upon the crystal waters of Prussian blue of the blue river of Prussian crystal.
Things continue to be like ever before, anyway, and as deep and as soft as the eyes of Othello Meow when he looks at the deep horizon.
Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn went out into the garden to see what Othello Meow was doing; he found him behind the rose bush with coral roses, of an intense shade of coral. Othello Meow is his pet cat, with a coat as black as dark midnight dotted with some ashen-grey spots. The cat was scratching at the ground passionately, as if there were something there, digging quicker and quicker just like dogs do when they bury the khaki-coloured and red-polka-dotted bones of their dreams.
"I must help him," quoth Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn. And both cat and owner began to dig in the garden soil. Imagine their surprise when a little head popped up and spoke to them:
"Good morning to you two! I am Adelade the Star!"
"Whaaaa...???"
She was a tiny star, not very large; anyway astronomers who know, or say they know, with their distinguished and illustrious mien, told us that stars were very large, and this one was not oversized, indeed, Adelade was a tiny baby star.
With a smile as wide as an autumn breeze, and eyes as large and rounded and blue as a pair of blue dragonflies. So blue, such a transparent and crystal-clear shade of blue as cuckoo-bell flowers full of blue raindrops dancing upon silver leaves after a summer downpour.
And Adelade the Star asked them once more:
"Who are you two?"
"We... are Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn and Othello Meow," they both said, still surprised. "And what are you doing?"
"We stars are tied to golden strings ever since we are born to light up the whole sky; then, when we are a little bit older, we can let go and travel or fall down to Earth. Therefore, you may have sometimes seen from here a star, and find that it has disappeared the next day; it's because that star has left to explore the wide world."
Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn said that Lady Nell Bread-and-Honey, his grandmother, had told him another tale about the stars.
"Lady Nell Bread-and-Honey always told me that the stars are candied hazelnuts, which the witch Clara and the witch Claudia scatter wherever they fly."
CHAPTER 2 of THE DANCING STAR
They spent a long time in conversation, telling each other tales from here and there, and also telling tales from there and here. Every now and then or every then and now Othello Meow tickled Adelade the Star, and the latter was even more encouraged to tell of adventures.
Adelade the Star suggested to both of them, to Othello Meow and Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn, as well as both Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn and Othello Meow, to come with her to the Land of Nevergothere Ifyousurelywon'treturn, which filled Roger's face with a wide green smile like those of bard frogs when they sing songs to their ladyloves in the lily ponds and their ladyloves reward them with an equally green and wide smile.
His great-great-grandfather had been there and never returned; no one knew either before or afterwards why he had gone forth, but every time his great-great-grandmother was reminded of that land, her gaze was turned towards the ocean and a little teardrop of absence streamed down her left cheek.
Not even the greatest maharajahs, with all their racing elephants and all their lucky crickets, did light-footedly and lunatically undertake a quest like this one. But they all had to wait until from the horizon there rose over the horizon a moon laced with cinnamon lace, and within orange-coloured flesh with bone-colored pips on the orange-coloured flesh. It is then that one can go to the Land of Nevergothere Ifyousurelywon'treturn. When the orange moon rises, you may expect anything to occur. And when it rose that night, Othello Meow and Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn hopped onto Adelade the Star and began their quest, only leaving on the house door this message.
"We will return soon, or maybe earlier, and when we return we shall return."
So they set course for the orange moon and went right through it, through a long passageway like a colourful tunnel, vermillion and chestnut brown, honey golden and purplish, as long as when you have tunnel vision, tunnel vision in many colours. At the end of the tunnel a beastie was expecting them, a beast none of the three friends had ever seen, and who had never seen any of the three friends either. He was a big one, but either he had got or he hadn't not a face like a good fellow, what they call a nice guy. Suddenly the beast became aware of their presence, and moving his head a little to the right and then moving his head a little to the left, he slowly opened his mouth and said:
"Welcome, I am the camel Kamal; hope you are pleased with your quest through these lands."
"Thank you very much indeed," all three friends responded.
Kamal Hunchcamel had them over for afternoon tea, and, moving his head once more a little to the left and then a little to the right, he told them they could go to the town of Rice-Con-Gee, the largest town in the Land of Nevergothere Ifyousurelywon'treturn. That evening there would be a redoubtable opera performed by the eight giraffe sisters, the Pokerface sisters; a great show expected and advertised since ages in every community in the environs. He gave them directions towards Rice-Con-Gee: the way was very easy; as soon as they arrived at the icy seas where the whale Emma Corsetdreams slept, they had to continue straight on and they would find the No Cry Shampoo River, that flowed past the town of Rice-Con-Gee.
Othello Meow, Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn, and Adelade the Star took their leave satisfied.
"We have our ears full of explanations and we are thankful. When we return we will continue to listen to you and our ears will receive your explanations."
"Goodbye," replied the camel Kamal moving his head now to the right, now to the left.
The town of Rice-Con-Gee rose on a little hill slope, a perfect place for the winds to be able to play in its environs. The winds saunter or run chasing one another, playing hide and seek, red light green light, and especially blind wind's bluff.
When, at the end of the day, the so forgetful and carefree winds have had as much fun as they please, they sing songs in the centre of town; springtimey wind songs in springtime, summery wind songs in summer, wintry wind songs in winter. In autumn they breathe out in little puffs and get lost around the corners of old townhouses.
At the door of most houses there were cloth-wringing contraptions. Long and short contraptions, short and stumpy contraptions, tall and slender contraptions, depending on the physique of the houses' inhabitants, whether short and chubby or tall and thin.
In the town of Rice-Con-Gee, on Main Street every afternoon and evening sat old Laura Chocolate-Wishes with her accordion, an accordion that, whenever it was in a good mood, told little tales instead of making the passers-by dance. The little tales it told were sometimes or every now and then as sad as when children have the sorrowful shadows of the valley in their eyes at night. But occasionally or every then and now, in the same fashion, those little tales were as cheerful as when children have upon their brows the bright light of the rising sun.
Adelade the Star, Othello Meow, and Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn approached her and asked her:
"What is this little box you have in your hands?"
"It is an accordion, it is as old as I am," quoth Laura Chocolate-Wishes, "but we love one another, we keep one another good company."
"What do you mean," asked Adelade the Star, "by keeping good company?"
"That we speak to one another when no one pays attention to us, we speak of the playing winds, or of the rain that refreshes our cheeks, or of some sleepy moon pretending that she is asleep."
And, upon finishing, the accordion because it was in a good mood:
"Once upon a time, and I mean a long long time ago," the accordion began, "long before the crocopuffs lost their wonderful spectacles, which let them see the same things we see but in black and white; long before the day-blue muslings had their velveteen tails honeyed by falling pots of sweet honey; long before the bell-ringers of the jungle whistled their last excruciating cries; long long time before the sorrowful events that occurred long long time before all that; it was then, some years before that, because crabs have not always walked sideways, a night between springtime and winter, here in Rice-Con-Gee, the Shoemaking Moon, as she is known ever since, sent a message to every shoe in town, who spread the word to all the footwear in the Land of Nevergothere Ifyousurelywon'treturn: 'Tonight all trainers, mary-janes, slippers, flip-flops, sandals, pumps, high heels, clogs, espadrilles, boots, and every other kind of shoe will go out for a stroll on our own, without any kind of feet inside us. Tonight, while those who put us on their feet during the day, on their long and sneaky and greyish or pale or maybe even purplish feet, are fast asleep in their beds, we shall all rise and go forth for a walk.' In the middle of the night, while everyone was asleep, everywhere did all shoes of every kind leave their bedrooms and storage furniture. They walked down the pavement of the streets, up and down staircases, walking up and walking down the promenades. Wellington boots splashed at their hearts' content in the puddles on the pavement. Everywhere, espadrilles and slippers and pumps and sandals nd trainers and flip-flops tiptoed and wore their heels out. Some of them walked with catlike tread, gently sneaking like some people do during the day. Others walked more clumsily, treading loudly with their heels. On that night the Shoemaker Moon came close to the Earth and invited all those shoes to go for a walk with her; therefore, if you ever see a child on a night with a new moon, looking at the new moon through parted fingers, watching that child from over their right shoulder, never over their left as everyone else does, it is because that child is looking at the Shoemaker Moon all full of heaps of espadrilles, sandals, high heels, slippers... all kinds of shoes long story short."
"And if the accordion tells sad stories," asked Othello Meow, "what do you do?"
"If the stories make me really sad," Laura Chocolate-Wishes replied, "I play the sleepy song of the long wind that enters up the slope drowsily. Then the tune carries me away to a place where I have time, lots of time, to dream."
And her eyes, little by little, began to close, until she fell asleep with her accordion, just like every afternoon on Main Street.
Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn, Othello Meow, and Adelade the Star sauntered up Main Street until they reached Tickle-Laugh Square, where, at the local theatre, the eight giraffe sisters were about to perform. The four eldest were called Lettuce, Pettuce, Rettuce, and Dettuce; the four younger were Lattice, Pattice, Rattice, and Dattice. They came from a line of opera singers and actors with longstanding tradition, the Pokerface family. Both the elder giraffe sisters Lettuce, Pettuce, Rettuce, and Dettuce; and the younger giraffe sisters Lattice, Pattice, Rattice, and Dattice Pokerface, all eight giraffe sisters, were of splodged skin and had splodgy coats.
Yet when our friends reached the theatre by the front entrance, they found it closed and a sign saying: "No opera today, because the eight giraffe sisters of the Pokerface family have quarrelled."
The quarrel was concerning the hats and the jackets that they would have to don for the first time at the evening show. They could not agree on which kind of hat or jacket to wear, or on the way to put them on.
Lettuce, Pettuce, Rettuce, and Dettuce said: "The most convenient thing would be to wear both hat and jacket upright and straight." Lattice, Pattice, Rattice, and Dattice said: "The most alluring thing would be to wear both hat and jacket askew, cocked to the side." The argument lasted for hours and hours, and no solution was reached. Since nothing would be solved by letting the spat go on and on, someone, no one knows exactly who, had the brilliant idea of seeking out the Director of the Theatre.
The Director of the Theatre sent for the Director of Public Cleaning Services for Streets and Squares. The Director of Public Cleaning Services for Streets and Squares sent for the Head of Department of Regional Services for Vaccination Against the Common Cold of the Healthcare Prefecture. The Head of Department of Regional Services for Vaccination Against the Common Cold of the Healthcare Prefecture sent for the General Coordinator of Lighting Devices and Psychedelic Affinities; then the General Coordinator of Lighting Devices and Psychedelic Affinities phoned the Mayor, who, very seriously and with a quite sensible mien, said, speaking like a politician who has studied and practiced politics: "Seek out the Special Committee for Complicated Cases."
The Committee gathered in extraordinary assembly. They were an illustrious and distinguished committee, and, when they were all sitting down together, their mouths opened underneath their noses (as it happens to everyone in every illustrious committee), and they picked their ears and scratched their chins thoughtfully (as it happens to everyone in every distinguished committee). Any person who saw them would have said:
"This must be a quite illustrious and distinguished committee."
Their assembly continued.
Two of the giraffe sisters from the Pokerface family, Lettuce and Lattice, remained looking one another in the eyes and blinking, blinking and looking one another in the eyes, with their laughing little eyes. Suddenly, both of them raised their voices at unison:
"We shall wear our hats askew and our jackets straight."
And that was the end of the quarrel between the eight giraffe sisters and the much expected opera could begin without too much delay. Since giraffes are mute, the song they sang remains shut inside the head of each of the eight Pokerface sisters. The elder four, Lettuce, Pettuce, Rettuce, and Dettuce; and the four younger sisters, Lattice, Pattice, Rattice, and Dattice, only by looking very attentively into their little laughing eyes can the audience realise if they are singing out of key or not.
After the opera, all three friends walked towards the town's outskirts, where they found a great network of devices and contraptions, from which every now and then soap bubbles came out; large soap bubbles checkered with large checkers, small bubbles with small lilac stripes, large bubbles with large scarlet stripes.
As all three looked aghast at the contraption, there appeared a fellow with a strange mien, in turquoise uniform with a casque on his head; a police officer.
"Who are you? What are you doing here? Do I know you?"
All three friends were left even more astonished, they did not even know what to reply, nor how to leave this predicament.
"Keep calm! I am a respectful friend to all respectable people. That is why I carry this badge, to seize the people who are not respectable," said the police officer, touching the badge and all the medals he wore on his chest pompously. "But rest reassured, you have the face of respectable people."
"!!!!" (They had not left their surprised state yet.)
"This great contraption you see here," the officer continued, "is a patented soap bubble maker, invented by our most honourable Mayor of Rice-Con-Gee. He has also patented the clothes-wringers that all of our houses boast of. Now he is pondering about something else to take even more profit from the Shampoo River. You may get on the bubble that pleases you the most and hitch a ride on it."
"Are there no objections or problems on the Mayor's side?" asked Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn.
"No, of course not! This will flatter him a lot," said the officer beaming his greatest smile.
CHAPTER 3 of THE DANCING STAR
Without thinking even for an instant, they got on a very large bubble that was coming out of the device. It was one of the large scarlet bubbles checkered with large checkers. Then what had to occur occurred, and they rose up higher and higher. They saw the whole slope of the hill where Rice-Con-Gee was located, also the whale Emma Corsetdreams sunning herself, and a slide-shaped rainbow with quite many curves and loops. Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn, Othello Meow, and Adelade the Star told the bubble to leave them at the beginning of the Rainbow Slide, which was tied to a moon, the moon called Specklepick Colourful. The slide was all in intense saturated shades. The yellow was very yellow, the colour of golden hair. The red was a fleshlike shade of ruby. The violet was leaning on purple, and purplish. The blue was the bluish cerulean cyan of the day sky.
All three launched downwards at breakneck speed, and, upon reaching the end of the slide, they proved that it was as easy to roll upwards as downwards. And then they rolled up towards the moon called Specklepick Colourful.
At the cheek of the moon they found two witches. These were not like the wicked witches in the thick books there were at home; they were so-called apprentice witches, but not much else. The great leader of all witches, the Wicked Witch of the North-by-Northwest, had absolutely forbidden them attendance to black masses and other witchy conventions where they talked about what hairstyle was in to wear beneath the pointed hat, or the fastest broomstick up to date..., long story short of their affairs. The two merry little witches were what we call troublemakers of the highest degree. They introduced themselves:
"We are two witches. I'm Claudia Almond-Nougat, and this is Clara Hazelnut-Sugarplum... well, we're not proper witches yet but soon we will be!"
"How can it be?" asked Adelade the Star.
"The Convention of Witches," said Clara Hazelnut-Sugarplum, "always tells us that we are not prepared yet."
The snag was that, on the one hand, the witch Claudia Almond-Nougat did not like at all to fly on the broomstick. Not that she did not like it, but that she was completely unable to keep herself on the broom. And that in spite of the fact that she was taking a crash course to learn to fly, but she always said in the end:
"I have always liked to keep my feet on the ground; I'm the down-to-earth kind of person."
And, on the other hand, the witch Clara Hazelnut-Sugarplum messed up her own mind with words; it was never clear if she was tricking others or simply unable to keep her head on. She called the broomstick "cheese," she called cheese "home," and her home "towel," and the towel "umbrella..." and furthermore she said that this was the exact meaning of the words and, if it was not, at least she was having a great lark:
"I get on my cheese snacking on a chunk of home and I head for towel."
CHAPTER 4 of THE DANCING STAR
After being with our three friends sliding up and down the Rainbow Slide, they began to chase a cotton candy cloud they had seen passing by, and the trio lost them from sight. The merry apprentice witches were hopeless.
Above Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn, Othello Meow, and Adelade the Star there came a thin purple haze that spread as light as a bridal veil, and a thousand lilywhite crystal snowflakes began to fall all over the valley. And the great show of the ice ghosts of the first snows of winter was a prelude to the white sheet that spread towards the Lake of Balloons. The Lake of Balloons was a large lake full of balloons of every size and colour. The popcorn spirits were their gatherers. And those who cared about the balloons to sort them according to size, shape, and colour, but above all, what they liked the most was playing with them. The oldest and wisest spirit, who knew the most about these balloons, was Adolphus Kindred-Spirit. Not only did he partake in the gathering of balloons, he had another task he enjoyed a lot; he gathered in a water tower the sweet rainwater, the treat which popcorn spirits are most fond of. Adolphus Kindred-Spirit, who had quite the sweet tooth, was always kissing the tap of the water tower.
Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn, Othello Meow, and Adelade the Star were very fond of asking questions, and they asked solely for asking's sake, and Adolphus Kindred-Spirit replied only for replying's sake:
"Where are all these balloons from? And what are they?" asked the three friends.
"These balloons," responded Adolphus Kindred-Spirit, "are wishes. Mrs. Autumn Fog makes them, as well as some winds that dedicate themselves to these duties. The Sunrise Wind makes the blue balloons, while the Sunset Wind makes the yellow ones. The North-by-Northwest Wind makes the green and red balloons. Though they are also flowers, who grew weary of being rooted and then became balloons. That's why there are poppy balloons, jasmine-scented balloons... Balloons are also foam, and they are formed exactly in the same way that soap bubbles are. Long long time ago, balloons were bubbles that coursed down the waters, the waters of the Shampoo River. But the winds saw the bubbles and told them: 'Now you are a balloon. Come with me to see the wide world.' Balloons are hopes. Hopes which people keep eagerly in their hearts. And they flutter from place to place within the heart, hoping to escape, and when they escape the Lord of Twilight turns them into balloons. That grey balloon over there, with the sad cheekbones and the cherry-red eyes, was once a young gentleman," Adolphus Kindred-Spirit carried on, very excitedly. "In the bleak midwinter he put on a straw boater hat and walked the streets while singing. In summer he had his hair styled like a pompadour and walked the streets while laughing and singing. All of these things he did were outlawed by the laws of his homeland. But this was not the worst thing that occurred to him. He sneezed in a place full of people in front of whom it is advised not to sneeze, and the law sentenced him to death by hanging. And as soon as the executioner tied the noose around his neck, he turned into a balloon and some wind brought him hither."
"And are there always so many balloons?" asked Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn.
"Now there are quite few new ones," replied Adolphus Kindred-Spirit, "it's been ages since the last ones arrived, it seems that as time goes by there are fewer and fewer wishes, and fewer bubbles and flowers and hopes."
"But sometimes," said Adelade the Star, "wishes do come true. And flowers are for real as well. And hope flutters from heart to heart like a butterfly in springtime, like a burst of colour which fills your eyes with dreams."
CHAPTER 5 of THE DANCING STAR (Ending)
Then all three, Roger Rococo Rose-Without-a-Thorn, Othello Meow, and Adelade the Star, felt something tear at their insides, but at the same time they realised that it was quite pleasant. It was a wish, which is like a little caterpillar crawling all over your heart by night and day, singing the song "Come and fetch me with the dance of the buzzer-buzzers at the bottom of the rabbit hole." As their faces and hands began to fill with tiny wishes and hopes, a fog moistened their cheeks, they began to disappear among their hopes and wishes. Thus they disappeared into such a distant place, such a nearby place, that they shall nevermore return. If you ever let go of a balloon or see it fly, now you know where they go and who is their keeper.
If you want to head for this land, the Land of Nevergothere Ifyousurelywon'treturn, remember! When you get up in bed someday and see that at your place everything remains like it was ever before. The rooftop is on top, like ever before. And therefore the moon beams with a long and lustful kiss upon the crystal waters of Prussian blue of the blue river of Prussian crystal, just like the eyes of Othello Meow when he looks at the deep soft horizon. And dig hopefully in your garden, with a khaki-coloured and red-polka-dotted dream in your hearts. You should not be surprised if you see a little head, a tiny baby star, pop up and address you:
"Good morning to you! I am Adelade the Star!"
There are nights when the sky seems to drop very close to us on Earth. Sometimes on April or August nights, the stars look like numbers. They look like the Maths chickenscratch of a doll or a young girl who has just begun school and is beginning to learn, and this is because, above everything else, always the highest and utmost of goals were, are, and will be the stars.
*** finis***
