| Commentary and Philosophy Script posted June 6, 2017 | Chapters: |
...6 7 -8- 9... 
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Prose Potlatch Challenge-Adult/Child Dialogue
A chapter in the book Scripts
Of Ancient Myths
by michaelcahill
Unde FADE IN: Undesignated time on a virtually deserted, rocky beach. Low hills are seen in the distance. Grey pervades the scene. We come across an old man, grizzled, but seeming to be spry and with his wits intact. He walks along a shoreline of sorts with an active young child, a little girl. There's no sand or foliage to speak of and the rock-strewn beach is littered with debris and items of interest. The child picks one up and shows it to the old man. She's smiling and his smile belies the sense of melancholy in his eyes. "What is it Grandpa?" "Ha ... well, Dickens, that's a little hard to explain. It's kind of a long story. It's scary too. If I remember, there are dragons and evil sorcerers and witches and demons and ... well, not the kind of things a little girl in pigtails would be interested in at ..." The little girl plops down on some kind of bench though it just serves that purpose. It's more a convenient piece of wood or siding, sitting upon a pile of bricks at a suitable height for her to seat herself upon. The old man remains standing. He begins to pace back and forth as if about to launch into a speech or give a performance. She sits upright as if in anticipation. It is clear this scenario has played out before between the two of them. "Oh Grandpa, now you tell me the telling. Do the dragons breathe fire?" "Aye, and ice too ... and carbon monoxide ... heh, heh, heh, but I don't suppose that would be an embellishment that would tickle you." "Well, carbon minoxly or whatever the magic potion is must be very powerful and SCARY! Now, the telling, Grandpa. Do tell, what is this figure with the crown and what has broken off from her hand? What did she once hold? Was it a sword?" He pauses for a moment and considers the object. He sighs softly as if it triggers a memory or has a significance to him ... he physically shakes off the mood, as though he realizes it is not the order of the day, and not the story his young charge is wiggling to hear. "No, Dickens, not a sword at all ... something far more grand and powerful. It held a light that rivaled the sun. It was an all-seeing eye it was. Yes, an eye that shed light through the darkness. She was called The Lady of Liberty. She was the holder of freedom for the world. All who were oppressed could but look for the light shining in the darkness and go to it. Once they could see her standing in the ocean, they knew they were safe." "Oh, Grandpa, she stood in the ocean? She never moved? She must have been grand and strong." "Yes, oh yes. No wave or force on Earth could move her from her station. No matter the trouble one found themselves into. They would but find the light and follow it. Once in her view, they were free and NONE would dare challenge her." "But the dragons, what about the dragons?" "Ah, yes ... the dragons. She had the might of untold number of dragons to ward off those who would challenge her. They had powers that defy imagination. All who believed in freedom and justice were her friend. All who did not, her foe." The old man seemed to get a spring in his step. "The people of her nation lived as no nation had ever lived. They lived without fear, in freedom and with justice at their fingertips." The old man turned away as though stricken. It was clear he struggled with something that kept him from continuing the story. "Then what, Grandpa? What happened next? Why do I find this broken doll with the light missing? The telling, Grandpa. You must, now. You must get on with the telling." He sighed deeply and turned as though age had grabbed him all at once. "The people of the nation became unhappy. They felt like too many people were being let in. They worried that with so many people they would be forgotten and left out. Then they became suspicious of each other. They noticed that many people resembled people who had oppressed them and from whom they had fled. Many remembered a time when there weren’t so many different kinds of people. A great many people had thought for the longest time that the nation should stop rescuing people. They thought it dangerous. Finally, what they kept hidden inside in the darkest places spilled out of them in hatred. Fear became a disease that gripped the nation. One nation no longer felt like one nation. Certainly, a great many people did not approve of the Lady of Liberty and her ways. They refused to let the people who followed her light enter the nation. They were sent away. Great resentment grew across the world as the feelings of betrayal festered in the hearts of those who sought help only to be spat upon and considered unworthy. Time passed and the nation of light became dark. One day there was no light at all to find. And that is the story, Dickens. The Lady of Liberty one day simply vanished." "Oh, Grandpa, that is such a sad story. I wish that the Lady of Liberty could've lived forever. How sad this little doll is, broken and abandoned among the debris on the ground." "Oh, I wouldn't worry, Dickens. It's just a myth. Now, we best get moving to high ground. The tide will be rising. We wouldn't want to drown." Another great topic, Debbie. Folks are missing the boat. :)) I thought for this week it would be interesting to have a dialogue between a young child and an adult--could be a parent, but doesn't have to be. Possible scenarios: A broken toy Is the moon really made of green cheese why can't I play outside after dark or any others you think of 
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