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Description

A young serpent drifted beneath the waves. A silly thing; he dreamed and woke and couldn’t tell one from the other, but it mattered little to him. He roamed the sea at whim, stopping only occasionally to watch the world around him before flicking his tail to resume his course.

One warm spring day, he chanced upon a marsh crowded by water plants and seabirds, who danced in spirals and streaks, stirring the air as they glided noisily from one end to another. Intrigued, the serpent slid his head a little higher above the water and slithered through the algae.

He recognized this frenzied activity—courting, they called it. He’d never paid it much thought, thinking it wearisome and undignified, but that day it seemed as if his vision had been tinged in rose. Under a spell of pure insanity, he suddenly imagined himself in love, and being loved, no longer wandering the empty seas alone.

Love, he decided must be the goal in life. And he fell in love with the notion.

For days he searched, but no bird, beast or reptile would glance twice at him. He didn’t mind. He was patient and knew the best things took time.

Quite randomly, one morning, the serpent found himself infatuated by a white crane. White was relative—she was actually a shabby crane, her feathers frayed and her eyes dull with life’s experience, but he kindled his interest until it resembled love, delighting in the novel feeling.

Not wasting another moment, he swam before her and set forth his heart. “I think I love you.”

The crane eyed him warily. “You don’t know this kind of love, child.”

“I do,” the serpent insisted uneasily.

The crane ruffled her wings in a shrug. “Different people have different beliefs. But I assure you, this is not love. You only like the idea.”

The serpent endeavored to prove his devotion. He brought her gifts of exotic flowers and fish, of pretty words, but she sent him away each time. “You will tire of me,” she would say. “You are blinded by vanity.”

Finally, enraged and confused, the serpent demanded to know why.

“Because you are silly,” she said, “whereas I know the world’s darkness. You are beautiful by yourself. Stay as you are.”

The serpent, in rage, dove back into the water, back to the sea; soon, he returned to his monotonous routines.

Years passed. He found other things to interest him. Wrecking ships; mapping currents; inventing theories.

It was by complete chance that he saw the crane again, many years later. She stood in the twilight, peaceful in all her worn glory. The serpent watched her for a moment before gliding to her side.

“I understand now,” he said, meeting her black eyes. “You saw me as an ideal for the romance you’ve lost.”

“Is that so wrong?”

The serpent rose to his full height. “I live in a dream, but I shall not die as one.”

Description

A young serpent drifted beneath the waves. A silly thing; he dreamed and woke and couldn’t tell one from the other, but it mattered little to him. He roamed the sea at whim, stopping only occasionally to watch the world around him before flicking his tail to resume his course.

One warm spring day, he chanced upon a marsh crowded by water plants and seabirds, who danced in spirals and streaks, stirring the air as they glided noisily from one end to another. Intrigued, the serpent slid his head a little higher above the water and slithered through the algae.

He recognized this frenzied activity—courting, they called it. He’d never paid it much thought, thinking it wearisome and undignified, but that day it seemed as if his vision had been tinged in rose. Under a spell of pure insanity, he suddenly imagined himself in love, and being loved, no longer wandering the empty seas alone.

Love, he decided must be the goal in life. And he fell in love with the notion.

For days he searched, but no bird, beast or reptile would glance twice at him. He didn’t mind. He was patient and knew the best things took time.

Quite randomly, one morning, the serpent found himself infatuated by a white crane. White was relative—she was actually a shabby crane, her feathers frayed and her eyes dull with life’s experience, but he kindled his interest until it resembled love, delighting in the novel feeling.

Not wasting another moment, he swam before her and set forth his heart. “I think I love you.”

The crane eyed him warily. “You don’t know this kind of love, child.”

“I do,” the serpent insisted uneasily.

The crane ruffled her wings in a shrug. “Different people have different beliefs. But I assure you, this is not love. You only like the idea.”

The serpent endeavored to prove his devotion. He brought her gifts of exotic flowers and fish, of pretty words, but she sent him away each time. “You will tire of me,” she would say. “You are blinded by vanity.”

Finally, enraged and confused, the serpent demanded to know why.

“Because you are silly,” she said, “whereas I know the world’s darkness. You are beautiful by yourself. Stay as you are.”

The serpent, in rage, dove back into the water, back to the sea; soon, he returned to his monotonous routines.

Years passed. He found other things to interest him. Wrecking ships; mapping currents; inventing theories.

It was by complete chance that he saw the crane again, many years later. She stood in the twilight, peaceful in all her worn glory. The serpent watched her for a moment before gliding to her side.

“I understand now,” he said, meeting her black eyes. “You saw me as an ideal for the romance you’ve lost.”

“Is that so wrong?”

The serpent rose to his full height. “I live in a dream, but I shall not die as one.”