General Sharpless

GENERAL SHARPLESS

Aged and slightly frayed General Sharpless lounged on a divan pillow embroidered in fine silver and gold. He was cleaning his face with his deeply tufted paws and dreaming of an adventure once upon a time.

He had been a protector of King Quonex's tomb hidden in a desert far away. Of all temple guards he was the most feared. Night after night he strutted bravely at the entrance, tasked with keeping the magic safe. He was never sure what harm could come to a dead king's magic but as the outside threats mounted, he remained vigilant in his task yet sensitive to the fact that most of the raiders were in search of gold and treasure. They were unaware of the real magic that lay within.

For a cat who took orders, having his own thoughts was a new experience and he perhaps got a little ahead of himself in reasoning. If real magic could not be stolen, why did he have to remain so vigilant? It was such a beautiful night, Jupiter was kissing Venus in the stars and soon his thoughts turned into dreams.

Instead of keeping watch, he mused. 

It was at this moment that a ruffian scoundrel approached the entrance to the temple tomb. The ruffian scoundrel watched General Sharpless and noticed his body twitching in his dreaming. General Sharpless’s majestic, jet-black tail swished and shivered, and his paws opened and closed revealing nails that could tear a body to shreds. 

The ruffian scoundrel knew much about dreams and the state between waking and sleeping and he was delighted. If General Sharpless was between worlds, he would be able to slip through the gates and take what he was looking for. 

He had come in search of the mythical Golden Claw that once belonged to King Quonex. The Golden Claw had been infused with magic so that whoever possessed it would be powerful, strong, creative and remain forever young. King Quonex had kept it in his purple robe and despite the hundreds of years that he had been alive he remained powerful and young.

He was also known for his sense of humour because despite the brevity of him being the king, he was as playful as a kitten.

But one day the earth opened up in her fury at being ravaged and sent floods and earthquakes to the desert. A flash flood buried King Quonex and his followers, alive.

A beautiful, ornate temple was constructed to honour his great life. Somewhere beneath the silt lay the Golden Claw. It was priceless because where in this world could you buy unlimited creative and physical power? The ruffian scoundrel understood this and was desperate.

Many before him had tried to get past General Sharpless but hadn’t succeeded. Would tonight be different?

General Sharpless was deep in his dreams and the ruffian scoundrel climbed silently up the stairs toward the entrance of the temple tomb. His copper tail curled at the tip and his whiskers sensed the night’s cool breeze. But as the ruffian scoundrel got to the top of the stairs a strange thing happened. 

Unbeknownst to General Sharpless, he had been blessed because of his faithful dedication to being a great protector.

An old temple priestess had loved General Sharpless with every fibre of her being. She took great pleasure in stroking his jet black, velvet fur. It was her way of meditating and calming her mind after busy days dealing with all sorts of people who did not believe in magic or hope.

She found their disbelief tiresome and often felt drained and irritated as a result. Not so with General Sharpless, she felt all one in his presence despite being alone. His silent gaze was a comfort to her, and she knew he knew what she was thinking.

She would soon leave the world and didn’t want General Sharpless to be left to fend for himself in his old age, or possibly be cast out from the temple. There were more and more people who were entranced with the web of the world and who saw no value in old people, magic, dreams, or cats. To protect him she conjured up a spell to keep him powerful and active no matter what the circumstances.

And so it was that even in his dreams General Sharpless would remain a great protector but he hadn’t found that out, yet.

The ruffian scoundrel made his way onto the last step, his paws not making a sound. But as he did so General Sharpless rose up, drew his sword with all his might, and hissed and growled through his carnivorous teeth, “Beware tomb robber!"

Well as you can imagine the ruffian scoundrel got a terrible fright and found he was rooted to the spot. He began to yowl, low and pleadingly.

All this noise woke General Sharpless from his dream. What on earth was happening? His eyes blazed like the yellow sun and his coat stood on end making him look metallic in the moonlight. The ruffian scoundrel was petrified.

In his mind he was going over all the reasons why he had chosen to rob the temple tomb in the first place and found none of them sufficient to balance the terror he was feeling. It didn’t seem such a good idea after all. In fact, under no circumstances would it be a good idea if he had to fight such a creature as this General Sharpless.

General Sharpless took in the situation and the dark sky, and the dusty, mangy, starving green eyed creature in front of him. He observed his already raised sword and complimented himself on being so quick on the draw at his age. His booming voice carried far into the desert night as he cursed and growled and hissed.

The ruffian scoundrel carried on frantically wishing he was anywhere but on the brink of entering the temple tomb. He was desperately trying to remember the invisibility spell that had kept him alive through the many nights on the streets. But as all minds are in terror, it was blank. 

When all the hissing had died down, they ended up silently staring at each other, each waiting for the other to pounce. He managed to clear his throat quietly and said" Please do not harm me. Have mercy on me. I will go at once and spread the word that the Golden Claw has gone.” 

Even though General Sharpless was a renowned warrior he also had a very kind heart, but that was his secret. His heart enabled him to see the truth in the ruffian scoundrel’s eyes. These were not the eyes of an opponent that would kill for fun or steal for greed. These were the eyes of desperation, hunger, hopelessness, and fear.

He saw before him how he may have been if he had no hope. He smelled the ruffian scoundrel’s fear and could taste the bitter saliva of hunger permeating the air. As he was aging, he had met a different kind of fear, the one that prompts worrying about what would happen to him should he not be able to do his job and be the great protector anymore.

What would he do, and would he be any good at doing something new? His thoughts of retiring filled the endless nights of keeping watch. Other thoughts filled those endless nights too, of how it feels to be alone. It was seeing this very fear he had imagined mirrored in the ruffian scoundrel’s eyes that made him step back and lower his sword. The eyes before him compelled him to do something he had not yet done, be merciful.

The ruffian scoundrel trembled, waiting for General Sharpless to pounce. General Sharpless was waiting for the ruffian scoundrel to turn and run. As neither of them did anything, General Sharpless cleared his throat and asked, “Why did you seek to steal the Golden Claw?"

The ruffian scoundrel took a slow breath and answered, "There are many of us who have lost our way. After the floods and the earthquakes, we have been left with nothing. We need to regain our strength so we can carry on rebuilding what was lost. The Golden Claw would have saved us."

General Sharpless listened and felt for the ruffian scoundrel. How terrible to live hungry, and to have children that could not be fed. What happened to those left behind in a hostile environment when everything around them was destroyed? He decided there and then to help the ruffian scoundrel and told him so.

Well, the ruffian scoundrel was so surprised by the merciful attitude of this fearsome warrior that he almost started leaping with joy although he was as thin as a whisker.

General Sharpless began discussing his plan and the ruffian scoundrel listened, ears big and silent as the night. 

And so it came to pass that many years and many lives later there was a generation of magical temple cats who gave their people powers beyond human reach. Some people became tremendous warriors guarding the earth and her resources, others wrote stories of magic and wonder that soothed their tired spirits and empty hearts.

There were the farmers who fed nations and gardeners who made exquisite gardens where birds, bees, lizards, butterflies, toads and all other sorts of crawly things flourished. Then there were the teachers, healers, musicians, dancers, artists and poets who drew inspiration from the great cosmos and brought happiness to the world. Each in their way reminded those who wished to remember, how wonderful it was to be alive, on this earth.

There was so much magic for everyone. None of it ever ran out. It was a bit like love in that way.

These cats had one defining mark. Under the golden fur on their tummies (just in the place where you should be careful to touch them) was a smudge of a birthmark.

It looked like the Golden Claw.

The magic of the Golden Claw had been released for all to benefit from.

General Sharpless knew this had been the reason he had been called to be its protector. He had been blessed with power and with love. He would know who could catalyse the release of its magic so that no-one would ever need to steal again. It would be the one with the open heart whose suffering had not yet consumed their power to care and to transform. 

And so, it came to be that fear once overcome, became a bridge to magical power and it was known that not all ruffians are scoundrels.

©MM Baird