The Cave Dweller

"My friend here," said Iago, tilting his head toward Quasimodo, "my friend and I  have wandered these woods for a very long time." The faun slightly nodded, but said nothing. Iago cleared his throat and continued. "We've been caught in many downpours, some terribly brutal ... with hail and everything."

"And the storm clouds are gathering?" asked the faun.

"Quite dark," replied Quasimodo, "and quite, quite heavy. It's going to be a big storm."

"We didn't realize this cave was already tenanted," said Iago. "We mean no harm. We're merely seeking shelter from the approaching storm."

The two men could tell by his eyes that the faun's thoughts had turned inward, a million miles inward, as they listened to the approaching thunder and felt the wind slashing at their backs. The faun stayed lost in contemplation for several minutes, then sighed. "The laws of hospitality, gentlemen, are what they are, and who am I to break them?" He made a sweeping gesture with his arm. "Please, enter. At least for the duration of this storm, my cave is your cave."

The two companions entered timidly and nestled in a corner of the cave, facing the entrance, and silently watched the wind coursing through the vegetation as the sky grew dark.

"What is it like out there?" asked the faun.

"Pardon?" said Iago.

"I mean out there, in the woods. It's been a very long time since I stepped hoof out of this cave ... lifetimes. Are the woods as they were?"

"As they were since when?" asked Quasimodo. "How long have you dwelt in this cave?"

"Long ... long. It was inhabited by an ancient people when I first came here ... ancient and odd. Generation after generation they never faced the mouth of the cave. Indeed, they didn't know the cave had a mouth, and their only concept of reality was the shadows of clouds and animals thrown on the cave's walls. Then some Greek philosopher came along, I forget his name, and convinced them to turn around. They were amazed, as you might suppose, at the new reality, a reality that was the cause of their ancient reality; the light and the solid things were the source of their reality of shadows. They left here to explore the there. I, however, as you see, stayed here. They left me alone. They never returned. It's been a very long time."

Iago shrugged. "Once one sees a reality perhaps one is disinclined to return to the shadows."

"But what a reality," said the faun. "A reality I knew well! Teeming with savage beasts, cliffs, monsters ... and the storms, the terrible, terrible storms!"

"And that's why you never left here?" asked Quasimodo.

"The cave is safe, while the surrounding woods are ... well, the woods."

    

All three shuddered.

    

"True," said Quasimodo after a long pause, "the realities may well be more frightening than the shadows. I've seen monsters and storms. But I suspect there's another reality even beyond them, that they are but its shadows."

The faun knitted his brow. "A reality greater than storms and monsters? It is too tremendous to comprehend. And so I remain here. I am safe here."

    

It was now Quasimodo's turn to seem to be looking deep inside himself. "Yet, even when caught in a torrent, I swear I can hear some still, small voice, as it were, a voice even more real than the rain."

    

"Oh?" said Iago, arching an eyebrow, "and what, pray tell, does this voice say?"

    

"Well, it's hard for me to put into my own words, but it's ... oh ... like, 'Yes, there are monsters and there are storms; nevertheless, open you mind, open your heart and explore, explore it all with me.'"

    

The faun stared at the mouth of the cave and then at the two companions. "You know, I must confess that I have grown weary of this cave ... after all this time. I've not been caught in a storm, but I've also not felt the morning dew. Maybe ... shadows ... reality ... to explore again! Maybe, once this storm has passed, maybe I should leave this cave."

   

Iago smiled. "We passed a hillside covered with poison ivy on our way here."

    

The faun returned the smile. "I remember it always tasted best after a rain."

    

Quasimodo leaned back against the cave wall and stared dreamily at the now raging storm. "Then I suggest, while waiting out this storm, that we pass the time by chewing the fat."

    

"Or chewing the cud, as the case may be," said Iago.

    

But no one talked. They only sat, watching the storm, each lost in his own thoughts, and each with a smile on his lips.