Zach nudged open the creaky door which led to Brill’s atelier. He scanned the room, hoping for something unexpected to liven his day, but it looked the same as always: paintings of strange places Brill called fields, forests, and mountains hanging on the stone walls; shelves overcrowded with brushes and a thousand glass jars, each filled with a different color of paint; the eggs in the corner, stacked in their crate like a half-completed pyramid. And of course Brill himself, seated at the middle of the long, wooden table. His eyes squinted from under his fluffy grey eyebrows at the egg he held before him.
Zach considered going back to his room and playing with some of the toys Brill had made for him, but, as usual, he decided to watch Brill instead. He climbed into a chair at the end of the table, far enough away to avoid interrupting.
They sat in silence for a long while, Brill staring at the egg, Zach watching Brill. Then Brill nodded his head, stood up, and headed for the paint shelves. Zach smiled. That inevitable transition from concentration to action reminded him of a puppet coming to life at the hands of a master puppeteer.
Brill carried at least fifty jars to the table, one by one. Then he sat down, picked up a palette and brush, and set to work mixing the paints. Zach took the opportunity to move closer, sitting beside him as he worked. Brill seemed to favor green that day, mixing many shades of it, along with some whites, yellows, and browns.
After mixing, the real show began. Brill selected a fine-tipped brush and painted the first stroke on the egg. The design started as a squat, green body and a long tail, at least as long as the body itself. The back he covered with a line of spines, and a wide, round eye peeked out from the side of the creature’s head. Detail by detail the painting emerged with a realistic perfection.
When finished, Brill walked over to the small table under the room’s lone window and placed the egg in the straw nest there. Zach stood beside him and they both waited patiently. A few minutes later, a crack formed in the egg. Soon a piece flicked out, showing a hint of green inside. Zach watched in fascination.
The animal, exactly as Brill had drawn it, knocked away bits of eggshell until it freed itself. Brill cupped it in his hands and lifted it to the window.
“Climb down the wall, my little green friend, and you’ll find your way to Earth.”
The animal cocked its head, examining them both with one of its big, sideways eyes, then scampered out the window. It grew visibly as it passed over the stone ledge.
Brill turned back toward the table, a satisfied look on its face.
“What’s it called?” asked Zach.
“It’s an iguana,” Brill responded while putting away the paints.
“It looks like a lizard.”
“Well of course it looks like a lizard. The Master created the lizard a long time ago. That iguana is just a variation on his design.”
Zach scrunched his face. “Aren’t you the master?”
Brill laughed. “No child, there is but one Master, and he is master of us all. When you are older, I will explain the great mysteries while I work. It will help pass the time for both of us.”
Zach frowned.
“Don’t worry,” said Brill, “in time you’ll understand.”
With that, he placed a cover over the eggs and left.
—
The next day, Zach again sat beside Brill as the old man painted a blue-and-yellow bird.
“Where do you get the ideas for these animals?” asked Zach.
“They’re not my ideas, not mine at all. The Master fills me with his spirit, and it tells me what to paint.”
“What if we make the bird purple, with a lion’s head?”
“Only the Master can say what to paint.”
“That’s no fun. We should be more creative.”
“You can be creative, just not with the eggs. Take some paints and go paint on my old papers, like you used to. There you can let your imagination soar. But the eggs are special. The Master’s creatures are part of his plan, and only he understands the way they should be.”
Zach sighed. “I’m tired of drawing creatures on paper. Let me paint an egg!”
“Painting the eggs is an important task. Only one filled with the Master’s spirit can paint the eggs.”
“Please, I’m tired of just sitting around. Let me help.”
“Life is long, Zach, you’ll have your chance.”
Zach placed his head on the table and imagined the wonderful creatures he would make if only given the chance.
– – –
That night, Zach jerked awake in his bed. Sweat dampened his face and clothes. He felt as if some strange presence shared his room.
“Is someone there?” he asked.
“Yes,” replied a deep male voice which seemed to come from within his head.
“Who are you?”
“I am your friend,” said the voice. “If you do what I ask, you can achieve all that your heart desires.”
Zach wondered if this could be the Master that Brill had mentioned. “What do you want?”
“Go to Brill’s studio. There I will fill you with my spirit, and you will create the most marvelous creature ever.”
The voice frightened him, yet at the same time excited him with the promised opportunity.
“What am I going to paint?”
“You will know, when the time comes.”
Zach considered the proposition. He felt uncomfortable with this strange voice in the night, but at the same time, he didn’t see how painting a single egg could hurt; Brill painted one every day. He decided to go along and see what happened. He could always change his mind later.
Still wearing his bedclothes, he walked down the hall toward the atelier. He tiptoed past the open door to Brill’s bedroom.
As slowly as possible, he pushed open the atelier’s creaky door. Each “click” registered in his ears like a boom.
When he entered, the room lit up with a reddish glow. This glow cast long shadows which seemed to twist and move, although the light itself did not flicker. Brill always worked in sunlight, and this strange lighting gave the room an unnatural sensation that made Zach uneasy. He felt guilty and decided to go back to his room, but something compelled him forward.
Before he could even think, his body entered into a stiff mimicry of Brill’s daily routine. He uncovered the eggs carefully, chose one, and took it to the table where he sat down and held it before him.
Within moments, a strange sensation filled him. It burned inside him, demanding that he complete the task. It made him bold and stripped him of all guilt, leaving only a mad desire to paint the egg.
He found the required paints quickly, moving from one to the next without error, and mixed a palette similar to the one Brill had used for the iguana. When he touched the paintbrush, he felt power course through him. He snickered at old Brill, knowing that the mighty creature in his mind’s eye was far superior to anything the old man had ever imagined.
His hands moved rapidly, instinctively, and the first brushstroke produced a thick green squiggle. Then he added details: powerful wings, scales like iron, two mighty horns, eyes deep with wisdom, and an evil grin. To complete the terrible, magical monster, he painted a flame blazing from its mouth.
Trembling with anticipation, he placed the egg in the nest and watched it without blinking. It soon hatched and a horned green head peered forth. The creature hissed at him, full of malice. At that moment Zach knew the creature’s name–dragon–and the confidence which had filled him turned to dread.
The first glint of sunlight appeared on the horizon and the red glow vanished. Brill entered the room and gasped in shock at the beast. The dragon opened its mouth and blew a tiny jet of flame.
The spirit which had controlled Zach abandoned him. It was replaced by shame and guilt at what he had done.
The creature took flight, hissed at them both, and flew towards the window. As it approached the opening, it grew uncontrollably, spreading out in all directions. By the time the deadly barb on the tip of its tail reached the window, it had attained such strength and proportion that it caught on both sides of the frame and ripped out stones as it passed.
“What have you done?” cried Brill. “That thing is the very image of the serpent which tricked Adam and Eve from the garden, yet with wings and fire and hundred times more guile! How could you ever imagine such a monster?”
Zach held down his head and his tears splattered upon the ground.
“I speak too hastily,” Brill spoke softly. “This cannot be your fault. Surely Satan himself placed that design into your heart.”
Brill braced himself on the table and sat, then put his face in his hands and wept. “This beast will be the downfall of man!” he said. “How can he survive against such a foe?”
Zach sat beside him all day, neither touching him nor speaking. At sunset, Brill stood and went to his room in silence. For the first time Zach could remember, the eggs remained untouched for an entire day.
He ran to his room and cried himself to sleep.
– – –
Zach awoke again in the middle of the night.
A voice called out to him. “Zach?”
“Yes? Who is it?”
“I am the one who Brill calls the Master.”
Zach couldn’t be sure. Either this was the Master he had wronged, or someone else come to mock him. Either way, he felt ashamed and cried. “Please let me be,” he said. “I regret what I’ve done.
Truly I’m sorry and just want to be left alone.”
“There is no need to apologize, I do not blame you for what you did. It was not your spirit that moved the paintbrush last night. But I would ask a favor, if you are willing to hear it.”
“All right,” he mumbled between his sobs.
“I would like you to return to the atelier and fix the evil that has been done.”
“I would if I could, but I don’t know how.”
“My spirit will fill you, and you will do what must be done.”
“How do I know this isn’t a trick?” he asked.
“When my spirit fills you, you will know that it is good, and powerful, and holy.”
The voice calmed Zach, not at all like the pushy intruder which had impelled him the night before. He decided to take the risk.
He returned reluctantly to the atelier, head held low, still unsure if what he did was right or wrong.
When he opened the door the room again filled with light. Only this time the light gleamed white and strong, and cast no shadow.
Zach approached the eggs in the corner. His actions were not guided as the night before, and that made him pause. Then a new spirit entered him, neither hot nor heavy, but gentle and kind, and he knew that it was good. At that moment he realized the Master was his true master, and he resolved to do everything possible to make things right.
After selecting an egg, he sat at the table. He stared at the egg for a long time, but the spirit did not control his body as the other had done. Softly, it nudged him forward, but his will was his own.
“I must make the decision myself,” he said. “But how? I am but a boy.”
He put his mind to the task. He first thought of creating a creature powerful enough to slay the dragon, but he realized that in the end such a creature would surely be worse than the dragon itself.
Also, Brill had told him that man held dominion over the creatures of Earth, and was responsible for their care. In his heart, Zach knew the task of slaying the beast must fall to man himself.
However, Zach could not imagine any way in which man could slay the dragon. He pictured himself fully grown, and knew that even in the height of his strength, his body would be no match–and neither would man’s. Thinking long and hard, he tried to imagine some way in which he could give man size and strength beyond the limits of his body.
“I will give man a friend,” he said decidedly. “When he must face his worst enemy, he will not go alone. This friend shall go with him, and they will be as one.”
He gathered colors–whites and browns–and sat down to his task. Filled with the spirit, he painted a new animal. With each brushstroke hope grew within him, and he spoke to himself as he worked.
“Together they will be stronger. This friend will make man taller, faster, bolder.”
More hours passed than he could count, and the night seemed to stretch beyond reason as he painted. When he finished the final stroke, a ray of sunlight entered. Carefully he placed the egg in the nest.
Once again Brill opened the door just as the egg hatched. His face convulsed and he gasped, and Zach could only imagine the terror he must have felt, wondering if this new egg might hold a beast even more terrible than the day before.
The animal broke free from the shell. Unlike the other creatures that had come before it, it grew instantly. The small table split beneath the animal’s mighty frame and the nest fell to the ground.
The beast lifted its muscled body proudly upon four long legs, and when fully erect towered over Zach and Brill. It shook its head and a mane cascaded down its long neck. Sleek and powerful, it combined the best Zach had seen of both racer and beast of burden. He knew that indeed this animal would be the perfect companion for man.
Without urging, the animal leapt boldly through the window, ready to face the task before it.
Tears fell again from Bill’s eyes. “It’s magnificent! What is this noble beast called?”
“It’s called a horse,” responded Zach. “It will not fear the dragon, and will carry man bravely when he must face it.”
Brill embraced Zach. For a long time they wept and laughed in each other’s arms. When they separated, Brill wiped his eyes and stared at the fractured table. Zach thought the sight might sadden the old man, but Brill’s hearty laugh made him jump. Brill turned and winked at him. Again the spirit filled Zach, and he knew what to do.
The two of them hurried from one side of the atelier to the other, gathering paints by the armload. Smiling and laughing, they passed the day painting a picture of a stone cottage in a flower-filled meadow surrounded by tall aspens. In the middle of the meadow, they painted themselves, side by side, riding two magnificent steeds which they named Ray and Lettie.
The next day, the four of them rode together through the meadow, relishing the sights, sounds, and smells of their new home.
– – –
Christopher Kastensmidt would like to dedicate this story to all the Mucks, LaMeres, Kastensmidts, Bowers, and de Limas who make up his wonderful family. He wrote it for them.
photo credit: via photopin (license)
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