The story of the Disappearing King

The story about the Disappearing King.

- Daddy, tell me a good-night story!
- About who?
- About a king. But not a usual fairy-tales king. About some strange king.
- Strange? What do you mean by strange? With two heads? Or five arms?
- No. Let him be a Disappearing King.
- Disappearing? Are there any kings like that?
- Sure. I’ve just thought him out, so now there is a king like that. Will you
tell me about him?
- Hemmm… Well, I will try to. But if this story will be a bit awkward, don’t be
offended, ok? Now, lie down, make yourself comfortable, right so, and put your
hands under the blanket. And now shut your eyes and listen...

Long-long ago there lived a king. He had a small kingdom, so cozy and beautiful.
And everything could have been usual, but the king was a bit strange. Every
time, when there were any problems in his kingdom - something like
misunderstandings with neighbours, some dangerous criminals or maybe revolutions
the king would just disappear. First all the ministers and courtiers were
looking for him, but couldn’t find the king anywhere. And then they started to
solve the problems on their own. And after all the problems had been solved and
the danger was over the king appeared again, as if nothing had happened, and he
approved the decisions, taken in his absence, and gave prizes and orders to his
ministers and courtiers. And he never told where he had been all this time, he
just smiled mysteriously and a bit embarrassed.
Little by little everybody got used to it and even stopped to be angry at the
king for having left them in trouble. Anyway he didn’t know how to get angry, to
frown, to stamp his feet or to execute somebody, and without all these things no
real king could ever solve any problems of his kingdom. He was generally so
good-hearted and smiling, although his eyes were always sad, even when he was
laughing.
The king had a wife, the queen, and also he had children, princes and
princesses. One of the princes had a page, a small clever boy of 12.
Once the page was helping his prince with clothes, when he saw a very beautiful
picture in the prince s room. In the picture there was an ancient castle on a
hill, and under the hill there was a small well-groomed lake with white and
black swans and over all this there was a sky, painted in wonderful tender
tones, drowning slowly in the rays of the setting sun.
The page forgot how to breathe when he saw the picture. He just stood there,
enchanted, having forgotten everything around him and he was looking at the
sparkling rays of the sun in the picture, he could feel a slight wind that
caressed the walls of the castle, he could hear the cries of swans on the lake.
The prince came up to him and also started looking at the picture.
- Do you like it?
- Oh, yes, I do! Your Highness, who has painted this magic picture?
- That was my father.
- His Majesty? The Disappearing King???
- Yes, exactly. But this is our family secret. So as you have seen the picture
already and you know who has painted it, please, don’t tell anyone about that.
Swear to me.
- I swear, Your Highness! - the small page said, and still couldn’t take his
eyes away from the gorgeous picture. It was alive, the picture was living. And
the small page felt a strong desire to step into the picture, just inside. But
people cannot step inside a picture, can they?
On the next day early in the morning a messenger came into the king palace and
brought the news, that a foreign ambassador is coming to the kingdom to
negotiate about the problems with trade and navy. Of course, as soon as the news
has reached the palace, the king was disappeared. But as everyone got used to
him already, no one paid attention to his absence. The life in the kingdom was
going on, women were putting new dresses on, ministers were powdering their
wigs, a kitchen was full with cooks and the small page was sent into the cellar
to bring some seasoning from the larder.
The page was standing in the cellar and just wanted to light the torch that went
out and suddenly he heard something behind his back. The page was a bit scared,
so he pressed himself into a niche and from there he saw the king, going
somewhere with a candle in his hands and with a strange bag on his shoulders.
The page was a small and very curious boy, so he got all his courage and
followed the king, hoping to discover where His Majesty disappears all the time.
The king was going along the corridor for a long time, when suddenly he dived
into a small and dark turning. The page almost missed it. In the end of the
turning there was a small door. The king came up to the door and touched the
handle. The door opened slowly and a bright light shoot from it. The page got
afraid that the king will see him and started to look for a place to hide, but
the king s voice stopped him:
- Ah, the small page, have you come with me? Well, maybe it s your fate also.
Give me your hand...
The page, who expected, that the king will be angry with him because of the
unintended espionage, couldn’t believe his ears but the king stretched his arm
already. The boy took the king s hand, closed his eyes tight and entered the
cloud of light behind the threshold...
- You can open your eyes.
The page was afraid to see something horrible, but still his curiosity was
stronger, so he opened his eyes just a little, and saw through the narrow
opening something, that made his eyes open wide...
The castle, the same castle from the picture was in front of him, just there, on
the hill, but the sun was not setting this time, it was high in the sky. And the
swans were also there, teaching their children to catch fish and to dive.
- What is it, Your Majesty?
- It s the other world, my little page. I’m coming here from the palace, that s
why people call me Disappearing King . This is my world; I created it myself
and go on creating it.
- Can one create a world?
- Of course.
And with these words the king opened his bag and took canvas and oil-colours out
of it.
- This is how I create this world. I paint a forest and there is a forest
behind the hill. I paint a rainbow and there is a rainbow over the forest. I
paint fields and there are they, you see?
- Your Majesty, why don’t You paint people?
The king looked at the page and his eyes grew even sadder than they were.
- Little page, I don’t know why, but people don’t live in this world. I have
tried to paint them, but all of them turned into swans. I really don’t know why,
- repeated the king.
- Maybe You just don’t want people to be here, because they will destroy the
beauty of this world.
- Yes, maybe you are right.
- Your Majesty, why do You always come here, when there are some problems in
Your kingdom?
- Just because this world needs a lot of strength from me. And the strength that
I could use for solving the problems I put here. And then I take the picture
into our world.
- Why?
- Because there can not be two identical lakes in one world, otherwise one of
them will be not alive. That s why I take them away from here, so that they
could go on living in that world, just in pictures.
- Your Majesty, I want to stay here.
- But I have told you, you are a human being.
- Your Majesty, please, paint my portrait, and then paint a young tiger over it...
All my life I’ve been dreaming to become a tiger. And I will live here, in that
forest. And for me not to kill anyone, You will paint a magic table-cloth, and
it will give me food when I need it, and also You will be coming here and eat.
And for this I will carry You on me all over Your world to show You some
corners, which I will think out, and You will paint them. Otherwise they will
stay shadows, because I will not paint, I will just invent them. And You will
fill them with life, if You like them...
So was the page speaking, and the king had already a brush in his hands, and the
small page was appearing on the canvas, waiting to become a tiger later...
And in the kingdom one more legend appeared, about the Little Page who wanted to
step into a picture...

- Daddy, this story is beautiful, but what happened to the Disappearing King?
Did he stay there, in his world? Or he came there, when he died? Or maybe he
painted a copy of himself and left in that world?
- This is for you to think about, sonny. It was you who thought the Disappearing
King out. Now go to sleep and let you dream about the end of this story.