The Night Whisperer

The whisperer walks beneath the silver moon,

He breathes gently into the night breeze.

The stars glisten dimly in his path,

He stares at a myriad of fireflies,

As they jump up and down in a synchronized ring,

The quiet and dewy meadows bow to their emerald energy. 

The whisperer has been on this solitary journey decades ago.  

He stops at the junction, and listens intently, 

He stares at his illuminated watch,

The witch hour was near.

He halts and waits patiently.

A shooting star lights up like a ball, and blinks for a few seconds, and vanishes into the starry horizon. 

A faint drumming sound throbs in the distance, 

Out of the granite darkness, ashen and ghostly figures appear and surround him.

The whisperer stands firm in the center.

He shakes his shepherd's staff in the still air.

An angry, coarse voice bursts into the pitch darkness.  

"What have you got for us?"

Their leader's dry cough resounds in the misty terraced valley. 

The whisperer strikes the ground several times and requires some silence. 

Then, he acknowledges his peers and bows in respect. 

He starts: "A few years ago, you gave me a mongrel puppy to raise, educate and protect!"

Everyone in the circle taps their sticks in agreement. 

"What has happened now?" asks the youngest shadow. 

"The mongrel dog has become a tyrant and bites anyone who crosses his path," the whisperer says solemnly.

"Is this all?" A croaky voice echoes behind the whisperer.

He glances at another wiry shadow sitting on a savannah anthill.

"No, there are more!" Many innocent bystanders have been bitten, mauled, and left for dead,' the whisperer goes on quietly.

The leader of the shades squeals again, "Then, you didn't teach the mongrel better. This was your assignment!

The whisperer stays calm but sorrowful, He mentions inaudibly:

"In the beginning, the mongrel was the best hunter I had on my homestead."

However, as he grew bigger, his fastidious ego flared up. 

The mongrel dog became more greedy, and selfish and ate every bush meat at the expense of other hounds and its master!

One of the shadows reaches out to the whisperer and warns him,

"This frigid and quiet valley has ears and the mongrel has spies everywhere", a soft female voice speaks for the first time in the calm air.

Two speckled owls fly stealthily and nest in the nearby crimson bottle-brush tree.

"Go slow now!" The leader warns the whisperer, but he also urges him to give the soulless mongrel another chance.

"Death comes to all of us, continue to be diligent, as you have done in the past!" The leader tries to soothe the whisperer. 

The shadows bid farewell and fade into the early light. 

The whisperer blows a sweet whistle, and seven puppies emerge from the tall, cold elephant grass and sit at his feet. 

He caresses them lovingly as they lick his fingers.

The whisperer yawns as he pulls out his rustic gourd and sips off fermented banana beer.

He burps loudly and pours beer onto the ground to appease the souls of his ancestors. 

He picks his stick, gives a final whistle, and begins the long trip home, followed by his loving puppies.

He will never raise other people's mongrels except his own.

It's time for the whisperer to move on! 

As for the shadows, he had defied them and left fate to determine the battle.

On the horizon, the first light had penetrated into the obscure world, illuminating it.

He turns around and watches his puppies follow in his footsteps. 

It will be an exciting investment of his expertise and time. 

To the whisperer, time was a luxury!