Singers Sing

 

          It started gradually, almost imperceptibly. It was almost like an insect noise. Dry and light. Like an audible tickle, and just as annoying.

            It was that very same evening after Jessie and Julia came home from their day in  Joseph City. Julia was tucked up in her bed reading Paul Johnson’s A History of The American People.
The book was interesting enough to keep her reading long after the sun had gone down, and her parents had gone to sleep across the hall.
            She began to think that there were mosquitoes in her room. There was a persistent, almost audible sound like a miniscule chorus. Distracting. She shut the book and laid it aside. She began doing that thing where you examine the air to see if anything is flying in your space.
            “Look inside,” said the Golden Frog. The lamplight reflected off of him there. He had left his green house and was near the edge of the dresser top.
            “Usually, the most annoying stuff is on the inside,” he continued.
            “I hear something, Frog. It’s almost like mosquitoes, but there are too many voices. I don’t see anything flying around in here. I think I’ll go out and sit on the steps for a while,” said Julia. “Maybe it will be quieter out there.”
            Jessie and Beth wouldn’t have minded at all, of course, but still she didn’t want to wake them, so she slipped outside unnoted. Before she left the room, she put the Golden Frog in her jacket pocket, just like when she was tiny.
            It was fine dark moonless night, rather chilly after being in the house all evening. The chickens noticed that she was outside and made a few sleepy chicken sounds. The wind was blowing, but not hard. However, the wind was listening, as it often is.
            Golden Frog sat on her blue jeaned knee, as he always had, when she wanted to talk but not to her parents. Together they listened to the little song that was annoying Julia.
            “Where there is a song, Emmy,” he laughed, “there must be singers.”
            “That’s sensible Frog. Somebody has to be making that noise.”
            “The truth of the matter is that your very body is a battleground. It is the property of Creator, but a force of will-o-wisps, niddy-noddies, grimkins, or whatever, have set up camp there and are singing in your blood. They will drive you mad, if they can and break your heart by any means that they can.
            “We must defeat them!” insisted Frog. “We must out-sing them!”
            “You’ve given me a lot to believe, and I wouldn’t know where to start,” said Julia.
            “Many voices are needed,” said Frog. The wind heard his words and went flying.
            “Oh, Golden Frog, you’ve never told me wrong, but this one is very hard,” said Julia. “I can’t bear the buzzing song. It would drive me mad I think. But I feel so helpless and here I am discussing an invisible problem, with a talking gold nugget. I do feel foolish!” Julia was near tears. It was around midnight, and no one knew where she was. A time of flux.
            Julia felt suddenly as if she didn’t know where she was either. It was dark, yes, night time but somehow something was shifted. Her familiar world felt just almost out of reach, out at her finger tips.
            But as the familiar became weaker and smaller, and further away, in that small area of her true world a pair of shining yellow eyes appeared. The confusing darkness retreated, and she was back on the steps, gold nugget clutched in her right hand, facing the great tawny cat.
            “So, Julia, who am I to you? What is my name?” rumbled the cat.
            “Dina! The word dina’ kept coming to my mind over and over and it became a name! Does Dina suit you oh great cat?” said Julia hopefully. She felt a great calling to embrace the mighty being but did not dare.
            “Yes. I like that name. My first own name. Thank you, Julia,” and she came near and leaned on Julia’s shoulder as any cat does and purred for a while. They just sat together in peace, as one does with a cat.  Then Dina spoke.
            “The wind tells me that you have need of a singing? The wind is mischievous, but not a liar. He told me why also. This is serious Julia.  To whom much is given, from whom much can be taken away, if we are lax. That golden voice in your hand is right.  We must fight it by true singing. We must call the mightiest singer of all. Walk out in the desert just a little way with me and he will come. The wind talks to him also.”
            So, Dina the great cat and tall black haired Julia walked together a few hundred yards out into the dry brushy and stony desert land behind the little old blue mobile home. Julia was not afraid since she walked with Dina.
            When he came, Weller was the largest creature Julia had ever seen. Sometimes he seemed to be around seven feet tall and sometimes he seemed like he must be ten feet tall. He was dark brown, then he seemed to become silvery. It was hard to be sure in the dim bit of ambient light out there. His voice made Isaac Hayes sound like a tenor. His voice was deep plush velvet. A voice to command. A voice for a singing. A voice to move hills and mountains.
            “You will not see them, but my people are here too,” said Weller. “Only one of us need be visible. We will all sing.”
            And they did. Many voices in different tones of profound depth, with some also ripe and feminine. First soft on the breeze, the song echoed off the nearby stones, and then rolled downhill toward the highway. It was not specific in its intention.  It was a song of general restitution.  It gave no definition to small evils. It rolled over their insignificance.
            The voices came together and became almost unbearable to Julia. Her golden frog was hot from the pressure of her hand.  She did feel a battle within, which she had not expected.  It was brief. Horror rose inside her body and then was gone.
            Over and over the song washed. She felt it surge each time, and each wave filled her  heart with more joy, until she could hardly contain it.
            “It is enough,” said Weller finally. “That is how we make war. We overshadow evil, we out sing it.” He laughed. “We’ll leave you now Julia, and you oh great cat.” And then he was gone.
            “All of that noise is gone, Dina,” Julia said on the way back to the steps and home. “I’m quiet inside again.”
            “It is good,” said Dina, well pleased.
            Dina left her there on the steps and padded away into the early morning, way before sunup. Julia slipped inside, and into her room to finally get into her nighty and go to sleep.
She put the Golden Frog back into his house.
            When she turned away, he said, “Told ya, Emmy! Good night!”