A Trashy Tale

A long time ago, in the land of Gaul near the village of Ghrebh, there lived a creature called Tasa. The villagers didn’t particularly like Tasa, but Tasa did a job that nobody else wanted to do. Tasa took care of the garbage. Every evening, before the streetlamps were lit to keep the goblins away, the villagers took their garbage to the hill past the village gates and dumped it over the side. All manner of foul things rolled down the hill, and each night, Tasa would sort them. The things of the earth would be returned to the earth, but the things that the villagers had made were left for a while. Eventually, the things were covered up by new layers, and the villagers couldn’t see them anymore, and thought they were gone.

Tasa took great interest in all the things that were sorted. Here were some eggshells from this morning’s breakfast, and over there some clippings from a young girl’s haircut. Tasa’s claws touched everything in the dump, carefully placing each where it belonged. Sometimes Tasa would find things that didn’t belong in the dump, things that were there too early. Tasa knew this, and would place them where the villagers could see them. They would arrive to dump the day’s load down the hill, and they would see the things that Tasa left on top, and sometimes they would want to get them back.

Tasa’s place was not a safe place for the villagers. The things that the earth didn’t want, sharp things and poisonous things and evil things waited for villagers who regretted tossing something in the dump. Tasa readily took anything the villagers wanted to throw away, but once on the heap, they belonged to Tasa.

It happened one day that two village children met on the path to the dump, each carrying something for Tasa to sort.

“Hello, Elizabeth,” said the first child.
“Hello, Christopher,” said the second. “Carrying your family’s scraps to Tasa, are you?”
“I wish it were scraps,” said Christopher. “I wish more than anything it was scraps I have in my basket.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“It’s Kadiska. Kadiska is in my basket,” and with that, Christopher started to cry. Kadiska the cat had been part of the family for as long as Christopher had been alive. “Last night he curled up near the fireplace like he always does, but this morning, he was still there. I tried to get him awake so we could play, but he laid still. Mum looked at him and touched him too, but he didn’t move. We watched him for a while, then she said I should take him to Tasa. I wanted to wait, but Mum said to put him in the basket and take him to Tasa this minute.” Tears splashed atop the basket he carried close to his chest as he walked toward the dump.

“I don’t have anything but scraps,” said Elizabeth as she walked with Christopher. She didn’t pay any attention to his crying.

The two children stopped at the top of the hill and looked over the dump that yawned below them. A breeze tousled their hair and ruffled their clothing. “Oh I hate it here!” said Elizabeth. “It stinks here! I don’t know why I should ever have to come to such a horrid place!”

“We have to come here,” said Christopher. He knelt down with his basket at the top of the hill overlooking the place of Tasa, and tried to find the will to empty it. He couldn’t just throw the dead cat onto the pile and walk away, nor could he let it roll down the hill. His mother had made a bright blue velvet bow for Kadiska’s basket, and he could not toss it away like so much chicken bones and dust. Wracked with sobs, he said to Elizabeth, “I cannot throw this basket, and I don’t want to open it. I will walk down the hill and set it at the edge of the pile. Tasa will be able to find it. Tasa will know what to do with it.”

“Don’t be silly!” said Elizabeth. “It’s not alive and it doesn’t mean anything anymore! I’ll show you how to get rid of trash,” and with that, she flung open her basket and dropped the contents into the dump. As an afterthought, she pulled from her dress pocket a tattered doll with a blue dress, and in one motion, dropped and kicked it into the dump with the other refuse. As she turned to leave, Christopher was carefully making his way down the steep hill toward the edge of the garbage pile. She called over her shoulder, “You’re going to slip and cut yourself down there, and you’ll be sick for the rest of your life! Serves you right!” Her voice carried across the dump as she walked away and did not look back.

When Christopher got to the bottom of the hill, he stood at the edge of the heap. It was a sea of garbage. He could hear things skittering, moving beneath it. He set his basket with Kadiska in it down. He hated to leave it here, because this was the place of things unwanted, and he still wanted Kadiska. He looked at the basket for a few minutes, then a breeze wafted past him, carrying the stench of the dump. He turned and started up the hill, tears burning his eyes and the smell burning his nose. He had a lump in his throat that he couldn’t swallow. He sobbed as he climbed, and he promised himself he would never get that close to the dump again.

For a few days, Christopher’s mother did not make him go to the dump with the family trash, and for his part, he avoided the area completely. On the sixth day after Kadiska died, there was a great commotion at the dump, and all of the villagers clamored around to see what was happening. Christopher heard the excitement, and although he didn’t want to go near the dump, curiosity compelled him. As he approached it, he could see people standing at the top of the hill, looking down. It was very windy at the crest of the hill, and some of the people held their noses or had kerchiefs over their faces. Christopher got to the top of the hill and looked to see what all the fuss was about. He could see two men walking very carefully through the garbage. They were coming back to the edge. One man held the other’s hand to steady him; the second man had something over his shoulder. It was Elizabeth.

“What happened?” said Christopher to another child standing next to him.
“Elizabeth got in trouble because she threw something to Tasa that didn’t belong to her! She borrowed a doll and kept it, then threw it away! Her mother was going to punish her, but Elizabeth thought if she could get the doll back, she wouldn’t be in trouble anymore! She fell down in the garbage and now she’s going to die!” All the children talked excitedly of it, but Christopher wasn’t really listening. He didn’t want to, but he looked where he had placed Kadiska’s basket. It was gone. He felt the lump growing in his throat, not for Elizabeth, but for his cat. The wind blew again, and Christopher felt it carry something out of the dump to touch his leg. He looked down and saw it was the bow his mother had put on Kadiska’s basket. He put it in his pocket and walked away from the dump.

For weeks, Elizabeth lay with a fever. She was very sick. Even the village doctor did not know how to cure her, and he didn’t know how long it would last. The fever took all it could from her, and when it finally broke, Elizabeth was very thin and very weak. Her hands curled up like claws, never to be the same again, and she could not speak. Sounds came from her lips, but she could not make words, save for one: Tasa.

Years later, when Christopher was older and had a family of his own, he was dumping trash for Tasa when he heard a noise coming from the heap. He carefully crawled down the hill and there, at the edge of the stinking pile, was a crying kitten. Its fur was dirty, but its eyes were bright. It had gotten wedged beneath an old table. It was pinned and could not move. Christopher knelt down, and carefully, so as not to cut himself, pulled the kitten free. He stood up to leave, and the kitten looked up at him, still crying. He squatted back down, holding out his hands, and the kitten trotted right into them. He held it out to look at it; it was a mess. It meowed a tiny meow, and licked his thumb. For the third time in his life, he got a lump in his throat at the edge of the garbage pile. This lump was much easier to swallow, though, and it happened when, after carrying the kitten home and cleaning it up, he put the blue bow on it he had saved from Kadiska’s basket so long ago.

And what of Tasa? Tasa still sorts the trash for the villagers, arranging each thing to its place and keeping every unwanted thing tossed into the dump.