They say that animals are given the power of speech for just an hour, on the night of Christmas Eve. Traditionally, the animals so endowed are the ox and the ass, but what of the other animals who never visited Bethlehem? If you went out in the Tasmanian bush, what might you overhear on Christmas Eve?
This story was first published at Suite 101 in 2001.
'Nobody talks about me very much any more.' The shadowy voice was plaintive in the mild December night.
'Just as well, if you ask me.' The second voice was brisk and stood no nonsense. 'You don't actually want to be caught and put in a zoo, do you?'
'Good zoos aren't so bad,' said the plaintive one. 'If you were in a zoo, nobody would blame you for killing chooks and sheep.'
'That's unkind,' said the brisk one. 'I never kill sheep, and only the occasional chook.'
'You still have your reputation, even if it's a shady one. Mine is all but gone.'
'You're a myth nowadays, my friend.'
'Myth or not, I want to roam the green bush, the wooded hills and lonely gullies the way I did before.'
'How poetic!' said the brisk one. 'Face it, my stripy friend. Your day is gone.'
A sigh breathed from the depths of the hill behind them and both speakers tensed a little.
'Who's there?' they said together.
'Just me.'
'I can't see you.'
'I can see you two, though one of you is a bit transparent.' The sigh came again. 'So, nobody talks about you, Thylacine? And your reputation is tarnished, little devil?'
'It's all the early settlers' fault,' said the devil. 'They would have to saddle me with the name of a fiend.'
'There's always your official name.'
'Sarcophilus harrisii!' sneered the devil. 'Who can say that without cracking a jawbone?'
'At least you have an official name,' said the newcomer. 'I'm so old I was gone before the first men walked the earth.'
'Who are you, anyway?' asked the Thylacine. 'I still can't see you.'
There was a thoughtful silence. 'I've more or less forgotten, but I know I was somebody once. In the old days, I roamed the hills and valleys. The trees were different then, and the land was young.'
'You must know who you are.'
'Let's put it this way, Thylacine. You might be a myth, but I'm no more but a handful of fossilised bone. Perhaps one day I'll be found and put together.'
'Then we'll call you the Old One,' said the devil. 'Maybe you're a dinosaur.'
'Or one of the giant kangaroos,' suggested the Thylacine.
A light flared into being, then coalesced into the form of an angel. 'Joy to the world!' he cried, and held out his glowing arms to embrace the night.
'Joy to the world,' responded the devil rather bitterly. 'Much joy there is when one of us is maligned, one is half forgotten and no-one knows the third.'
'Take heart, my friends, for He knows all three of you,' said the angel.
'So He does.' The Thylacine sounded more cheerful. 'So I'll never be entirely forgotten.'
'That's true ,' said the Old One. 'He never forgets anyone, and He was here long before the first men. He's even older than I am.'
'I feel better,' said the Thylacine. 'Except- it would be nice to roam the hills again. It would be nice if people really knew me.'
'He understands that,' said the angel. 'And so do I. We sometimes have the same problem ourselves.'
There was another silence, perfumed by the scent of eucalyptus. Then the devil spoke up. 'It's a nice night for a bit of a yarn, Shining One. I wonder how we all came to meet here tonight?'
'I don't care how it happened,' said the Thylacine. 'I'm just thankful that someone knows I'm real.'
'You're real tonight, Stripy,' said the devil. 'And you, Old One, I'm sure I can see you in the moonlight. At least, I can see something.'
The angel laughed like a peal of bells. 'Tonight is Christmas Eve, the night of nights for seeing. Folk think of Him then, you see. They gather together and remember Him and celebrate His love.'
'What has that to do with us?' asked the Old One.
'His cup runneth over,' said the angel. 'And He wants the rest of us to share His joy.'
'But he's always there,' said the devil. 'Not only on Christmas Eve.'
'Yes,' said the angel. 'He's always there while good folk think of Him. And so are you, whenever He thinks of you.' The angel stretched out his hands. 'You are real,' he said softly. 'You are important. And you are the lucky ones, because you all believe.'
When two men hit the reset button and decide to go out looking for the good in the world, they not only find it but also a lot more.
P.S. The title is listed on Amazon under Look for Something Good by Robert Drews (not by Robert H. Drews)
