Tale of the Cooper's Daughters

"Erastus," the man called. "Erastus," he said a second time notably louder. "What are you doing?"
"Why I'm creating of course."
"Out of what exactly?"
"Well, they keep giving me newspapers, and leaving about read books. We mustn't let the illustrations go to waste."

Erastus had taken to making collages out of paper. Paper from books, magazines, newspapers, shaping them into something reminiscent of old cosmological and astrological maps. Strange creatures littered a Frankenstein night sky pieced together haphazardly.

"Why do you order them like that?"
"It comes to me."

The man stood over Erastus, breathing deeply, as if he might inhale whatever it was that had been "coming to Erastus" so he might better understand. Erastus sat in the center of a pile of cut out papers lying around him like an oriental fan. The man stood over his shoulder watching with a mix of contemplation and interest.

"And what exactly is going on in this picture?"
"Well I don't very well know, it's not done yet."
"Yes but you have an idea of where you're going."
"I most certainly do not. I said it comes to me, not that it has come to me."
"True," the man thought. "Well then do you think you see the whole picture yet?" he asked.
"How can I see it if it's not done yet?"
The man sighed out of irritation.
"Erastus are you ready to have our daily talk?"
"If we must, I would hope to continue my work while we do it though."
"That's fine. How are you doing today?"
"I'm doing it well."
"Doing what?"
"Art."
"How are you feeling I mean?"
"Creative."
The man sighed yet again.

The floor is rolling in newspapers, cut out figures, small excerpts, colored paper, and peoples' pictures. It's as if Erastus had searched through every man and woman's room and brought back all their tokens of memory. He had taken to cutting out pictures from advertisements, letters, and pasting them around a giant canvas he had made from other papers. Sometimes he would paste over the paper, other times he used what was already there as a base and used it in the work. Several sections had grown to five layers, with bits cut out here and there to make some overarching image using the different levels, others remained untouched. It appeared chaotic, but had an underlining structure, though the man was unsure if Erastus was consciously aware of it.

"Why do you do this Erastus?"
"It pleases me."
"How does it do that?"
"I suppose I think I've already seen everything the world has to offer. Art seems the only way to see something new or exciting."
"So you do it to feel excited."
"No, I said it makes me excited."
"Then why do you do it?"
"Because it pleases me. Are we going to talk like this all day?"
"I apologize, I'm just trying to talk to you in a way we can understand one another."
"Fine," he mumbled, while snapping off a lion. He placed them next to an ox and an eagle.
"Can we start over?" the man asked, the pen's tip pointed at Erastus as if asking too.
"Fine," he said while cutting out a man.
"Ok then. How are you?"
"I want to tell you a story."
"Very well then, begin when you are ready."

here once lived a cooper in a small German town. He worked from sun up to sun down making fine barrels for ales and drinks from all the sturdiest woods in the land. He raised three beautiful daughters who each were exceptional at one craft.

heir house had a small kitchen, only large enough for a four person table, lined with handmade wooden chairs. There was a cabinet on one end of the kitchen, and a long, thin table on the other that had supported seven corked jars since before the girls were born. Within each jar there were seven fireflies. Each jar contained a different subspecies known only to the cooper, distinguished according to the color they glowed. And "My! How lustrous they glow!" he would say to the girls every night before bed.

The beauty of the girls was renown for many villages, and when they came of age many suitors came seeking out their beauty. To protect them the cooper took to playing a game with the suitors. He told them that if any man could tell him which jar of his contained the green glowing fireflies without putting them in the dark, that he would give that man any of his daughters' hands in marriage. But if the suitor guessed wrong, then he was charged to fill as many barrels with the finest ale that the cooper could make in one night.

Now a visitor came one day to court one of the girls. He was a tall, lean man, with upright stature and the air of fair raising about him. He had heard the townsfolk speak of the girls' beauty, and had ventured to see it for himself. When he arrived the cooper requested the girls make him dinner. After the meal they sat conversing until the cooper at last broached the subject, offering the man his consent to marry any of his daughters, if the man could tell the cooper which of his jars contained the fireflies which glowed green like emeralds. The man asked to observe the fireflies for himself, to which the cooper motioned towards the jars with a smile. Some time had passed and the girls were beginning to yawn with the night. The man noted the impatience in the cooper so he quickly chose one jar which had the healthiest looking fireflies and pointed proudly, "Here. This one. Surely it contains those which glow green, for they must be the pride of your collection. And these here are the largest of the bunch."

"No," said the cooper smiling. So the man humbly accepted his loss and agreed to fill as many barrels as the cooper could make in one night. The man was given lodging for the night. In the morning he arose to see the cooper still up, putting the finishing touch on his third barrel.
"You are a fine father, and an even better cooper. I'll see my end of the bargain and have these filled to your specifications."
"You do me much honor, and I respect a man who is his word. Anytime you wish to try your luck again at one of my daughters' hands in marriage you are welcome to."
"Thank you for your kindness and hospitality; I shan't forget it."

So many suitors tried their hand, and none ever guessed right. This one guessed on the speed of their flying, that one on the hue of their shell, another on their behavior, and many based on the placement of the jar. Until one dusk the first suitor returned with the same upright stature and determination in his walk. The cooper greeted him with kind familiarity and led him back into the home. The three daughters stood on alternating stairs, each watching from the corner shadow as the two men spoke. The young man ate with the family that night, had a wonderful time with them all, and left without guessing which jar had the green light fireflies, nor mentioning it.

And this went on for months. He came from a day's travel just to sit with them for one night. Till at last he had built lasting relationships with all three of the elegant ladies. The youngest loved him so that she offered to tell him the father's trick if he gave his word that he would choose her. The oldest loved him so but she respected her father's wishes, so that she said she would wait for as long as it took for him to guess the right jar. The middle daughter loved him so that she enjoyed his company and conversing and laughing with him that she never mentioned the father's game. So the man fell in love with the middle and they were wed, and lived happily ever after.

"Snip" went Erastus' scissors. He stared at the newspapers around him for a moment before picking up a picture of earth and setting it upon some animal shoulders.

The man wrote down some comments on his paper before looking back down at Erastus.
"Why didn't the man have to guess the right jar?"
"Why should he have had to?"
"Because the father made it clear he would give his assent to those who guessed it."
"Yes."
"Well don't you see the disconnect in the story?"
"No."

Scribbling and snipping was all that was heard for some time. Sunbeams shot past bars onto Erastus' work. The paper seemed to be the only living thing in the room, the only thing with intent and color and work and joy.

Erastus suddenly cut the silence, "The metaphor is dead."
"What metaphor?" the man's eyebrow lifted inquisitively.
"All of them."
"What makes you say that?"
"Stories too."
"And why do you think this Erastus?"
"Dead," Erastus murmured with a large slice on the belly side of a whale.
"Erastus, what do you think about your story?"
"It's fine."
"Why doesn't the suitor need to guess the jar?"
"Because the cooper never said it was the only way he'd give assent."
"And what does that mean for you?"
"It means my path might just be fine."
"What path is that?"
"Here."
"Do you enjoy being in this room all day?" the man confronted Erastus.
"Do you enjoy trying to make me pick a jar?" Erastus fired back.
"So I am the cooper then? And who are you? The suitor? What of the daughters - who are they?" the man questioned with a hint of anger.
"I don't know. It comes to me, I didn't say it had come."
"What are you really doing with this paper collage Erastus?"
Erastus sat quietly. A smile cracked his lips, slow to open, but quick to finish once it had begun.
"Fine. It's time for your shot anyways, then it's back to sleep with you."
"That's fine. The metaphor lives in my dreams anyway."
"You won't be allowed to leave until you get better Erastus. You know that don't you?"
"Doc, you have to talk to me, you don't have a choice. Even if I'm asleep my project is still here, and my story lives on in you."

A nurse entered the room flicking a needle. The man motioned for her to give the shot. Erastus sat staring at the man as his arm was pumped full of some sedative.

"Goodbye Erastus," the man said sorrowfully. Regret could be heard in his tone, regret to help or understand.
"I'll see you later Doc. Same time? Same place?" Erastus chuckled softly and fell to sleep.