A New Night

Story Time

Moonlight illuminated the faces of the few hundred Night People gathered around in an open space near the Wall. The only nearby tree that could have blocked out the pale light was short, with many branches from which some Night People hung. Most of the others sat on the grass in front of Krogallo. Since I didn’t see anyone flying around or hanging out high up near their huts, I guessed that this was the entire village. Like any other kind of crowd I could imagine, they cheerfully talked amongst themselves. I even heard a group of three Night People begin a high-pitched song from the back of the crowd.

The clearing we had gathered in was not large, only about a half-acre—just enough space for all the bats to comfortably sit or hop around. Both movement and sitting would have been a little more difficult in the areas on either side of the clearing—where the foliage was thicker—though I suppose they also could have gathered on the beach down the hill.

I wondered how long this spot had been used for gatherings and storytelling. Did they purposefully keep most trees from growing in this particular place?

“Our story will begin soon,” Krogallo boomed with a large, fanged smile. He stood upon a thick slab of smooth, light-colored stone—a large chunk similar to the many smaller pieces scattered around the island. I wondered if they were crumbled pieces of the Wall, rolled smooth by the tide. This large rock worked well as a natural stage, with a green section of the Wall as a backdrop only a few feet behind.

Krogallo’s tone was theatrical, amplified impressively by the Wall’s natural acoustics. This was especially unexpected coming from a Night Person—since their voices seemed more suited to shrieks and chirps. Also, his posture was different than it typically was. I usually saw him and other Night People standing on their two long feet while leaning on their folded wings for balance.

However, Krogallo stood tall, on only two legs, as he told his story. As for his wings, he had tucked them neatly so that they stuck out behind him in a way that oddly reminded me of the rigid posture of an orchestral conductor.

Krogallo’s announcement elicited hushed silence from the hundreds of Night People around. Those standing turned to face him and then took their ‘seats’ by resting low, crouching on all fours.

Seeing the Night People resting on the grass, I wanted to do the same. However, I didn’t know if sitting was even possible in my clumsy body. The last thing I wanted was to end up rolling onto my side with a loud crash and then flailing miserably to stand back up. So, I was slow and careful as I lowered myself to the ground. To my surprise, sitting was simpler than I thought. There seemed to be some sort of socket joint in my hips, so I quickly managed and was even able to cross my legs.

As soon as I sat down, several children quickly flapped and hopped over to me. At first, I thought they only wanted to stare and see what I was. Instead, they immediately began to gently prod at me with their noses and claws. When I—in confusion—did not respond, one of them hopped into my lap, crawled up my torso, and then perched, hanging upside-down from my shoulder. The others, seeing their friend, let out hushed chirps of excitement and immediately began to climb and find their own places. Suspecting there wouldn’t be enough room for them all—and not wanting any of them left out—I decided to spread out my arms so that each could have a place to (literally and figuratively) hang.

I noticed some of the adult Night People briefly glance at the children before giving brief, toothy smiles. They didn’t seem to mind the children using me as a perch, which I guess made sense. It wasn’t as if Night People would know that they were entrusting their kids to a clumsy, killer robot. No … they probably thought that they were trusting a god of protection.

However, despite my cynicism, fear, and an ever-growing list of anxieties, I caught myself enjoying a moment of comfortable silence before the story. Being an amusement ride for cute baby bats, sitting on a beautiful island, and enjoying a moonlit night. It was … also nice to have woken up to an island of Night People who had an odd affection toward me—especially compared to other possible scenarios involving mobs, torches, and pitchforks.

Krogallo drew everyone’s attention—including my own—with a sharp click and then took a deep breath. He looked around at the gathered Night People and then at me. “You all know this story—except the newest among us, our most honored guest. Though I was born on a much larger and busier island, I spent countless nights of my childhood exploring this place. Its beauty, abundance of food, and sweet quiet captivated me.”

I looked around at the few hundred gathered. So, this was a small village for their kind? I wondered what the other islands of the Night People were like. What would a giant city be? Thousands? Millions? Did they have towers and buildings? Or huge forests with enormous trees teeming with Night People having parties and organizing a more advanced civilization? While I was glad I hadn’t woken on one of those busier islands, I thought they would be interesting to see.

Krogallo continued, “So much did I love this island that, in the cusp of my adult years, I came to live here with my kind-hearted wife—Talla—and my wife of wisdom—Fumalla. Those of you who knew them remember them as fondly as I do … though they now live out eternal joy in the Spirit Realm.” He then paused and glanced in the general direction of the caves I had woken up in.

The realization that Krogallo was a widower made me feel a little sad for him. I wondered if I had ever seen his wives—when I had been in and out of consciousness in the pod. I couldn’t remember many concrete details from that time, but maybe they had been the bats I had watched.

Krogallo then smiled and continued. “Each of my wives gave birth to a beautiful child. My Fugollo and Tagalla.” He pointed at two nearby bats with fur in shades of gray like his own.

I thought Krogallo’s children looked older than many of the other Night People present and guessed they probably had their own adult children. So that meant that Krogallo was quite a bit older than most of the Night People on the island … perhaps even the oldest. Although, he didn’t particularly seem it, judging by the way he moved or the energy he spoke with.

Krogallo went on, “I helped to build the nests we still use today, alongside my wives, our two children, and a growing number of new friends—some of you, your parents, and your grandparents. We all lived here in peace for several years, never knowing that danger would be upon us.”

When he said this last bit, his tone became low. He half-closed his eyes, creating a sort of ominous mood. I felt drawn into Krogallo’s storytelling. I wondered if he could have been a soap opera star in another life.

Krogallo continued, “Then the horrific day came when we were roused from sleep—to the harsh light of the Sun—by Servants on our island. However, they were not alone. They were led by a great monster made of stone … a monster with a green face.”

I heard the children hanging on my arms whisper, “Green Golem,” repeated in hushed tones by many of the adult Night People nearby.

Krogallo gave a grim nod and continued, “The enormous, green-faced Golem stood upon the beach. A narrow, dark cloud of foul stench rose from its body.”

Noticing a bit of movement among the bats, I turned my head and saw several of the Night People near me twist their faces and stick out their pink tongues.

“The bloodbags—usually so still and docile—were roused into a panicked frenzy. They tried to escape, but the Green Golem set upon a pup frozen in terror. It lifted the animal over its shoulder as the poor beast struggled, screamed, and flailed. Then, showing its cruelty, the Golem latched a stone vine around the tail of the bloodbag pup and dragged it along.

“I took flight for battle alongside many of you here listening! Your parents and grandparents can tell you—as well as I—how we fought that day. Even in the harshness of the noon sun, we would not allow strangers to come and destroy our home.”

I noticed the older Night People give quiet nods at this.

“We tried to strike the Servants first, to scare them away with ferocious biting and scratching. It worked! It was not long before they retreated to their enormous riding-logs on the water. However, the Golem would not leave without its prizes. It took aim at my dear friend, Mosollo, capturing him with silver vines.”

Again, the older Night People reacted, casting their faces down.

“That was when I realized my foolishness. We were not just defending our island; we were targets for capture! Realizing the danger, I signaled retreat and determined to serve as a distraction to compensate for my failure. The Green Golem set upon me … the only target left. It launched its silver vine at me. I narrowly escaped capture but was struck—I fell from the sky and crashed into the earth. I feared that my time had come!

“However, it was then that the gods intervened! The ground beneath me opened, gently receiving me into a cave. And there, in the cave, stood a guardian. While I waited, shaking and injured, a sleeping god watched over me while the Golem stomped around the island, rumbling and spewing its noxious smells. Finally, there was a sharp crack—like the thunder of the Golem’s rage—before all was silent.”

Krogallo paused and drew in a deep breath.

“In the ensuing silence, my terror kept me from moving. Even with the miracles that had kept me protected, that vile monster left me fearful, like a child. Then, as a prophet who has sensed the voices of the gods since my youth, I heard the muffled songs of the divine. Reminding me of their protection and their love for their people. That they had sent their youngest brother to watch over me and ensure that I … my family … our home … could endure.”

It took me a moment to pull myself from the story enough to notice the Night People were absolutely still and completely silent. It was like they were holding their breath. Though I was sure they’d heard this story before, it was important to them. It was the founding of their home … their people.

At that point, Krogallo shook his head ever so slightly and paused. His tone became far less theatrical for a moment, as if he had woken from a storytelling trance. “At times … this story has seemed so grand and so unlikely that I have wondered how real it was. I have wondered if maybe my fear at the time, my repetition of the story, or my love for telling it have caused me to remember it falsely. And, for a long time, it was only this broken stone and the sleeping figure in the caves which told me that it had really happened as I remembered.”

Krogallo took a hop back to fully reveal the stone he stood upon. When he did, I saw that the rock I had thought was a solid slab was cracked—with deep crevices breaking it into several pieces. At first, this seemed unremarkable. Then, however, my eyes were drawn to the pattern … there was something odd about the cracks.

It took me a moment to process what I was looking at. There was a massive, perfectly rectangular print—like the deliberate work of a large machine. The track was about twice the size of my own foot. The thing that did this was not only bigger than me … it was powerful enough to crush stone.

Clearing his throat, Krogallo drew everyone’s attention back to himself as he returned to the center of the rocky platform. He turned to look at me intently. The Night People, one by one, turned their heads to face me, almost as if a wave were passing through them. They just stared … their big, black eyes reflecting the moonlight.

I felt exposed—like there was a spotlight on me. Their stares made my body tingle uncomfortably, and I felt like a tiny knot had formed where my stomach should have been.

“Now the Sleeping God has awakened!” Krogallo said. “He is proof that the gods truly hear our cries. He has come to be among his people—and to save us from the Golems. Though my brother—Mosollo—was taken, he and all Night People passed will be avenged! Our salvation is here—and his name is Bassello!”

The Night People opened their fanged mouths and let out a united and piercing shriek. This included the young ones hanging from my arms and one that had crawled up to hang from my head. If I’d had flesh-ears, they would have probably been bleeding. However, I gritted my figurative teeth and bore the discomfort—it was all I could do to hide my terror.

I felt … heavy … like there was no escape.