Captain Rainbrain and the Tanglevine: The Finale!

By: Josprel

Captain Rainbrain and the Tanglevine: The Finale!
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Josprel

The Finale!

Doomsday dawned! Near the massive ramp of The Tanglevine, the Noimans stood waiting for the passengers. At first, the ascending daylight revealed nothing unusual, and mocking titters emanated from lurkers hidden by the shadows. Having long heard of an impending doomsday, now that it was presumed to have dawned, spectators from near and far expected some entertainment.

“They have come to continue mocking us, father,” Japhtho observed.

“Yes, my son. That which befell Prince Ludani and those with him is ignored by them,” Noiman replied, with a heavy sigh, “We tried to warn them, but they still refuse to heed our message.”

“Ho, Captain Rainbrain!” one of the shadows shouted, “I heard you’re looking for some animals. I have some rats I’ll give you without cost! Come and get them!”

“Oh, no, not rats!” another shadow yelped, “They’ll chew holes in The Tanglevine and it’ll sink!”

“That’s right,” a third shadow agreed, “Hey, Rainbrain, if you take the rats, just remember you’ll need cats to keep them under control. I’ll the cats on my farm. Do you want to take them with you?”

The mocking of the shadows accelerated, accompanied by barking, moos, meows, howling, and other animal imitations. Ignoring the taunts, the Noimans gave attention to the brightening sky and the forest rims.

The birds arrived first. From every direction, single pairs and flocks of fourteen winged their way to the ship. The smaller birds swooped through the door immediately. The larger ones circled the craft, waiting their turn. Throughout their maneuvers, the avian passengers maintained an eerie silence. And the spectators, their anonymity unveiled by the daylight, no longer jeered.

As the incoming flights continued, Shiana pointed to the boarding forest. At its edge, a great variety of creatures paused. Some sniffed the wind; others stared at the vessel, apparently attempting to estimate its distance. Then the boldest ventured forward, trailed by the more timid, until eventually, from all edges of the wilds they came, joined by domesticated animals from towns and farms. Walking creatures and crawling ones, those that hopped or leaped, moved with those that slithered in the dust. Bees, hornets, wasps, dragonflies, and other insects, came in numbers decreed by The Three. Tree swingers ambulated with imprecision the strangeness of the fields, but still they came.

Uttering no sound, giants ambled alongside Lilliputians. Hunters strolled alongside prey, as though an implicit truce pacified their enmity. Directed by an unseen guide, all embarked The Tanglevine. And, at last, with the boarding of the final pair, the inventory was complete.
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In the now midday brightness, Noiman scanned the silent spectators. They appeared dumfounded, apprehensive. Speaking loudly, he admonished, “You have not believed my words. Now believe your eyes. Until the ramp rises, you may enter the ship. There is still time. You need only to step forward, repent of your disobedience, and declare your allegiance to Logos, who is of The Three. Come, do so now.”

No one moved.

“Even what you have seen here does not convince you?” Noiman marveled.

A young woman standing at front of the spectators tugged at the hand of her companion, “Please, let’s enter,” she pleaded.

Hearing her, Noiman extended his hand, saying, “Come, enter the ship now.”

She was about to step forward, but her companion pulled her back.

“Each must make a personal choice to enter the vessel,” Noiman informed her, “For you to escape the deluge, even if your companion chooses to not enter the ship, you must enter without him. Please come. Do it now.” Instead, she pressed closer to her companion.

Now, several of Shiana’s family members press forward through the crowd. Telmone was among them, accompanied by his sister, Loina, who was in tears. She seemed to be pleading with her husband, Serug.

Noiman hopefully approached them. “Come, enter,” he earnestly implored them.

“Please, let’s go in, Serug,” Loina begged, “Please! Let’s take the children and go in! Don’t you see that the animals know something dreadful is going to happen? That’s why they’re entering the ship. Please, Serug, let’s go in.”

“Has this lunatic’s spells driven you mad also?” Serug shouted, “Enter with him if you will, but the children remain with me! If you enter, do not think to return to us after you find that Rainbrain’s accursed toy has sailed nowhere! I shall not take you back, for then I shall know you are as insane as he is!”

After Serug finished his tirade, Noiman extended a hand to Loina. “Please, Loina, enter the ship with us,” he begged.

“No, I will not go in without Serug and our children,” she sobbed.

Telmone had listened attentively to the exchange. Now he gave Noiman a brutal shove backward. “Get away from her, Rainbrain!” he snarled, “Don’t you see she wants no part of your insanity?”

So hard was the shove that Noiman fell backward, breaking the hush of the spectators, who now took on the character of a surly mob. Noiman lifted himself from the ground. Seeing from the ramp what had occurred to him, his sons ran to his assistance. He waved them off with a gesture indicating there was no cause for alarm. As he headed for The Tanglevine, the mob paced his footfalls, chanting, “Rain! Brain! Rain! Brain! Rain! Brain!”

Over and over the mob repeated the chant. Then abruptly it ceased, replaced by silence. Standing at the base of the ramp, stood a resplendent being, known to Noiman, but unknown by the mob. Pointing to the entrance, Logos spoke only once. “Come Noiman, the time has come to enter.”

Slowly, the family climbed the ramp. Noiman lingered wistfully at the opening for a moment, as the others entered. Then, after a final gesture of parting to those left behind, he turned and disappeared into the vessel.

The spectators, their fear intensifying to terror, saw the glorious being again point to the entrance. Seemingly of its own volition, the huge ramp gradually lifted toward the spacious opening. Inserting itself fully, it sealed The Tanglevine shut.

The being next pointed skyward and then vanished. At first, an ominous calm engulfed the countryside. Outside the ship, not a sound was heard. Even the
breezes ceased teasing the leaves. In the stillness, the only noticeable movement was the slow passing of a tiny cloud across the face of the sun.

Without preamble, Terra shivered. Then, earsplitting crescendos of thunder vanquished nature’s horrified hush. The cloud enlarged into multiple layers of rolling blackness. Surrendering unconditionally to the thickening suffusion, the sun succumbed to the black shroud.

Broad, dazzling streaks of lightning knifed the tortured sky, as Terra’s shivers escalated to rolling tremors. From widening fissures in the ground, newborn fountains towered upward, as if endeavoring to reach their waters to their ancient cradles in the clouds.

Launched to the raging cacophony of this chaotic overture, The Tanglevine charted its course to a new genesis. Those too practical to board her, who had sensibly rejected what they knew to be the ridiculous ravings of the one they vilified as Captain Rainbrain, now felt the first heavy drops of liquid judgment. In the violent flashes of lightening, they could still see The Tanglevine. They believed now. They desired to board her, but the hatch was sealed. Always so accessible before the waters began to accumulate, it could not be reopened until they receded.
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© Josprel (Joseph Perrello)
Josprel@verizon.net

Josprel is an ordained minister, who resides with his wife, Maria, in Western New York, across the Niagara River from Canada. Though brought by devout parents, at an early age, he abandoned the Church and religion in general, not returning to them until several years later. He served three years in the Far East as a sergeant of operating engineers with the U.S. Air Force. He then was separated from active duty and placed on a ten-year reserve status. He studied for the ministry under the G.I Bill of Rights, and holds a Master of Theology degree. During his many years of ministry, Josprel pastored three churches, including one in Attica, New York, the location of America's bloodiest prison riot. The Attica Prison administration requested Josprel to conduct weekly, three-hour-long Bible studies for the inmates. Josprel did so for some four years, before turning them over to another pastor, due to heavy demands on his time. Josprel ministers with the evangelical denomination of his youth. He is a prolific writer, whose stories and articles have appeared in print and on the Internet. He is authoring two novels: “Beloved Apostate” and “Kanfal.”

Article Source: http://www.articles.narrowisthepath.com

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