Everyone knew of the mysterious man of the night. His black hooded cape and black velvet bag was the stuff of legends. He provided the small Irish village with their substantial amount of gold and other riches. Nobody knew where the gold came from; a gold chain or gold coins were simply found along the dirt streets. It wasn’t until a young girl named Alana caught a glimpse of the man of the night did rumors begin to fly.
Alana was a mere child of seven when she spotted the black cape in the woods behind her cottage. She was contently playing with her imagination when she caught the sight of something black out of the corner of her eye. Leaves cracked and flew into the air as he whizzed past. Alana was fascinated by his billowing black cape and pocket watch which was fastened perfectly to his cape as if he were the royalty of the woods.
Alana’s blue eyes peered down at the mossy ground to discover he had left something behind. The object sparkled in the moonlight. The young girl bent down and picked up the object. It went limp as if it were a snake. Alana felt the smooth gold between her fingers and found the clasp on the end of the chain. Alana had seen nobles wearing such chains and it made her feel regal when she fastened it on. The heavy chain curved down and awkwardly rested on her chest like a long string of pearls would.
Since that night, Alana never once took off the gold chain. It stayed on her neck as if it were impossible to remove it. She told the story of what happened the night to everyone in the village.
The thought of a young girl seeing a hooded man in the forest and finding an expensive gold chain seemed absolutely ridiculous. The village people passed the man off as a figment of Alana’s imagination. The gold chain, however, they believed was stolen. It was the only explanation that fit. Even with these assumptions, a mutual curiosity hung over the village like a fog that refused to dissipate into the sky. Stories of this mysterious stranger spread and soon he was the mascot of the entire village. People rooted for the man of the night and even left gifts for him. However, nobody truly thought he existed. The village people were simply amused with the man of the night much like children are amused with the thought of Santa.
Ten years later, Alana had grown into a rather beautiful young woman. The chain was still fastened around her neck but instead of curving on her onto her chest it sat between her collarbones. Her round face had thinned and her short legs grew long and slender. However, her eyes never lost the sparkle they had as a child. She had one ambition which was to prove the existence of the man of the night and to discover who this man was.
Curiosity plagued Alana’s mind and she began observing the townspeople. Most of the rich business owners were fat and lazy, not someone who was often seen frolicking in the woods at nighttime. The men of their late twenties seemed like they were the most likely suspects. The baker’s son was too short and walked with a horrible limp. The farmer’s son was happily married and had two children. A family man couldn’t sneak around the village easily. Every other man of that age group, was either too tall or had brown eyes.
Alana couldn’t help but remember the man’s luminescent blue eyes. She had just barely caught a glance at them when she watched the man run away. It was the one detail she had sworn never to tell a soul. His eyes seemed to beg her to remain a secret.
There was one man, however, who seemed just as mysterious as the man of the night himself. Aidan was the son of a gypsy who was left to raise himself at the young age of fifteen. He was usually cooped up inside his hut. Nobody knew what he did inside his hut but everyone assumed it had to do with his job. Aidan was soft spoken and rarely spoke to anyone when he was outside his hut.
Alana had always believed the man of the night could possibly be Aidan. However, Aidan never seemed like anything special and the thought he was anything special made Alana laugh. He was horribly shy.
It was a Saturday when Alana completed sewing her own black cape. It was made of thick black wool that made Alana’s skin crawl. She waited until the sun had sunken below the hills and the light outside was completely gone. The darkness allowed her to easily slip out of her hut and into the woods behind her cottage. The forest hadn’t changed much in ten years. The trees still reached to the sky and the ground was still moss covered and soft to the touch. Her bare feet stepped onto the cold soft moss as she made her way deeper into the woods. Excitement rose in Alana, she could finally prove to her village that the man of the night was real.
The sound of a high-pitched scream pierced the darkness. Alana jumped back. She drew up her hood which covered her brown curly hair and most of her face. Alana hoped it would hide her from whatever was causing the woman to scream.
Alana edged closer to the scream. It wasn’t long before she came to a clearing. Alana noticed the road and stayed just inside the forest. Digging her fingers into the tough bark of a tree let only her head peer around the tree.
What she saw horrified her. A horse drawn carriage was stopped completely on the road. The door was flung open and a woman sat inside. She was obviously a noble because of her silk dress and beautiful emerald jewelry. A black figure stood beside the carriage with a flintlock pistol pointed at the woman. The man of the night held the bag open with one hand as the rich woman stuffed gold and other riches into the man’s black velvet bag.
With his bag filled to the brim with riches, the man of the night shut the door on the white carriage and smacked the horse. The mare horse reared and took off down the dirt road. The man of the night came towards her. Alana ducked behind the tree again. To her surprise, the man sat down on the opposite side of the tree. His back against the tree he began to sift through the treasures which were not rightfully his.
“You can come out now, I know you’re there,” the man said. Alana remained still for a few seconds unsure whether or not to reveal herself. After a minute, Alana stepped out from behind the tree and into the clearing. Moonlight shone down on what was visible of her face making her appearance grim.
“How could you steal? I thought you…I thought you somehow got our gold honestly,” Alana said in a whiny voice as if she were a child. “How could I be so stupid?” She turned away from the man.
“You’re not stupid. Simply naïve, I steal for you, the villagers, all of the gypsies and beggars that don’t have a single penny.”
The man talked as if he had rehearsed every single word.
“It still isn’t right; I shouldn’t have come here.” Alana kept her back turn. Tears came to her eyes but she wouldn’t allow the man to see her cry.
“No, it’s okay. I know who you are.” The man pulled down her hood. “I recognized that chain, it came from royalty.”
“Well, I don’t want it anymore. All of those fantasies I had about you, what you were. I thought you were a hero!” Alana said. She unfastened the chain for the first time in her life and held it out. The chain swayed violently. “But I was wrong.”
Alana dropped the chain on the cold, hard ground. An idea popped into her head. As the man bent over to pick up the chain, she swooped down and swiped the bag from underneath the tree. She opened the soft velvet bag and poured a bit of the gold into her hands. It was cold and heavy just like the man’s heart.
“Give me my bag back, please,” the man said, “You’re becoming more and more like me with every passing moment.”
“Don’t say that! We are nothing alike! You are a cold and heartless man.” Alana’s voice failed for a moment. “I wish I could give this back to that woman.” Her voice was weaker.
The man easily took back the gold. When he did so, the man’s hood fell slightly back revealing a tuft of dark hair. Alana studied that tuft of hair and his blue eyes. His features ruled out many young men in the village including the baker’s son whose hair was fiery red, and the farmer’s son whose hair was touched by the sun.
The man, catching on, pushed Alana up against the tree. The bark dug into her back leaving behind painful splinters.
“No one can know who I am. I don’t want to hurt you.” The man covered his tuft of hair with his hood.
“Why? You don’t want people to know who you are, know what you do for us, and know that you are a dishonest excuse for man? Wait now, I understand. If the people found out who you are, what you did, they would exile you!”
“No, Alana. If the people found out who I was they would thank me and throw parties. If they were to do that the village would become poor again. They can’t find out who I am so that I can continue helping all of the gypsies and beggars in our village who have absolutely nothing.”
“You’re only helping yourself.”
“Alana, I know people don’t believe you, about me, and that’s because they don’t want to believe that their gold is stolen,” the man’s voice grew softer, “I’m glad they didn’t believe you.”
The man was trying to sooth her but it didn’t work. Alana began to struggle while she was pinned to the tree. She flailed her legs into the man’s own slender legs. He stood firm as if he were a tree.
He pushed her up further against the tree. Alana bit her lip in pain as the bark pierced through the thick cape and her thin cotton shirt. The sharp spears of wood drew blood. Alana felt as the warm blood ran down her spine.
“Stop, let me go!” She opened her mouth readying to bite his hand, when she realized he wore a Claddagh ring on his finger. A Claddagh ring told whether or not a person was married, engaged, courting, or single. She studied it and noticed he wore it on his right hand, upside down; single. Alana bit his hand.
The man yelped as her teeth sunk into his skin. He immediately let go of her. Alana looked at the Claddagh ring on her right finger.
“I see you’re not married,” Alana said suspiciously, holding up her own finger acting as if the man needed an example. Her eyes slightly narrowed as if she were trying to look through the secretive black cape.
“Yes,” the man replied. Alana could see his plump pink lips moving from underneath his hood; a shadow cast over his face like a mask. “I see you are also not married.”
“Don’t turn this on me, you know who I am.”
Alana pointed an accusing finger at the man. The look on her face shifted from curiosity to stern. Her thin lips were in a firm line and lines appeared on her forehead.
“You’re not courting anyone.”
Her voice was soft because she was in deep thought attempting to discover his identity.
“What was that?” the man asked. His head turned slightly so that his right side was facing her. The wind began to pick up and both Alana’s and the man’s cape began to swoop off the ground. The man held his hood over his face.
“You’re not courting,” Alana repeated
“Alana, stop before I have to hurt you, I don’t want to.” The man began to move towards her with his hands out. He realized she was starting to put together his true identity.
“I just want to know who you are. I wouldn’t tell anyone.”
He continued to move towards her. Alana narrowed her eyes but didn’t move away right away. Instead, she stood staring at the man.
“You wouldn’t do this. You wouldn’t dare!” Alana shouted at the top of her lungs hoping her shrill scream would throw off the man of the night. The man started to run. He tackled her and as he did, Alana pulled the hood off his head. The man’s face was revealed. His dark hair and blue eyes caught the moonlight. “Now, I know who you are.”
Alisan Keesee 