Τhe Scarlybutton
Illustrations
Sofia Saridaki
Calliope Zachou was born in 1974, grew up at the Pierian Mountains, in Imathia and dreamt of “meeting” the sea. She studied nursing at the Technological Educational Institute of Crete and works in a hospital. She believes in the “gift” that brings people closer and makes life worth living; the “gift” of offering and solidarity. She spends most of her leisure time cooking, knitting, drawing, enjoying music and yoga and working on volunteer programs. Some years ago, she was fortunate enough to finally “meet” the sea she dreamt of and she has since been living with her partner and their kitten, Skoulitsa.
CALLIOPE ZACHOU
Τhe Scarlybutton Illustrations by Sofia Saridaki Translation from Greek by Anna Alevra
Calliope Zachou, The Scarlybutton ISBN: 978-618-5040-95-6 October 2014 Original Title: Το αλικοκούμπι
Illustrations
Sofia Saridaki sofia.saridaki@gmail.com
Translation from Greek:
Anna Alevra anna.alevra@hotmail.com
Editing:
Tina Moschovi tinamosch@hotmail.com
Page cover, layout:
Konstantina Charlavani k.charlavani@gmail.com
Saita publications 42 Athanasiou Diakou str, 652 01, Kavala, Greece Τ.: 0030 2510 831856 M.: 0030 6977 070729 E-mail: info@saitapublications.gr Website: www.saitapublications.gr
Note: The font is offered by Aka-acid (www.aka-acid.com)
Creative Commons License Attribution-Non-Commercial-No Derivs 3.0 Unported With the agreement of the author and publisher, you are free to share, copy, distribute and transmit the work under the following conditions: attribution, non commercial use, no derivative works. Detailed information on the license cc can be found at: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0
To my beloved face And our Skoulitsa, both of whom Fill my heart with kindness and Happiness.
“May you walk beside those children that are different; may you be blessed with the wealth of their soul and wisdom and may you become the sun that will offer their wings the warmth to fly. They can really do so, you know, as long as you give them a smile�.
Once upon a time, in a pretty little house into the first drawer of an old piece of furniture, lived a tiny red button! It was as small as a cherry pit and bright red like an August sunset. That very same drawer was home to many more buttons; big, shinny and serious buttons. There also dwelled threads of different colours and needles of all sizes. All of them were mocking and jeering at the little red button and no one wanted to be its friend. “You look hideous!” they were scornfully yelling at it. “You are small, ugly and useless! Who would choose you to button a collar or a skirt or a sleeve? And your colour… it is the colour of shame! And your holes are inexistent, barely discernible”. “You are unwanted, kid!” the poor little button was maliciously told every so often. And the needles were turning their backs on it in a sulk, for none of them could fit through its tiny holes. The little button was lying in a corner of the drawer sad and all alone, and every night it was dreaming of its brothers, no doubt decorating a beautiful dress or a shirt of some kind and someday it would travel around the world too. Thus, it kept imagining of them and held hope that someday it would travel around the world too.
Suddenly, one morning, the lady of the house opened the drawer, picked a big black button from the lot, a thread and a needle and left an old, cracked wooden button inside. She laid it down gently, as if she didn’t want to wound it any further and the little red button alone noticed sadness in her eyes before she closed the drawer and went away. The wooden button’s appearance frightened them all. They spread around at once and started whispering to one another about its size and ugliness in amazement and spite. They were wondering why the lady didn’t throw it away since it would, for sure, be of no more use, old and broken as it was. This very wooden button though, was the one adorning for many years the lady’s son’s schoolbag, which the lady herself had sewn. But one morning, just a few days before his university entrance examinations came to an end, as he was getting off the bus, his school bag got stuck in the bus door and the wooden button cracked. The young man, who loved his schoolbag and especially the wooden button, urged his mother not to discard it, but keep it as a keepsake of his school days. Thus, his mother complied and kept it, intending to repair it and adorn the gift she would make him with it, if he succeeded in his exams.
The wooden button, tired and weary as it was, looked around and, detecting nothing but the other buttons’ fierce looks, approached the red button for it was the only one that smiled compassionately at it. Then, it turned to the other buttons again, cleared his throat loudly and said in a hoarse, breathy voice: “I never expected such a reception from my peers. I may be old and wounded, useless anymore, yet none of you has the experiences that I do. You are young, you have never travelled and you can’t even imagine the things I’ve seen out there. Your ill behaviour, however, cost you the opportunity to learn some things from me”. Then, it fell silent once more, as did all the others into the drawer. The shinny buttons, the threads and the needles, that not before long were laughing and scoffing at it, drew away pondering and whispering to each other with their heads downcast… someone among them said: “This old man here may be right. I guess we were too quick to judge and reject him…” Some agreed with that while others simply nodded their heads ‘yes’. One thing’s for certain: neither laughs nor jeers came from the drawer that particular night.
Only the red button could be heard, happily talking and laughing because it had finally made a friend. The wooden button was listening to it while checking it out, amazed by its appearance, yet fondly, for it seemed so warm-hearted and content with their acquaintance. At some point, the wooden button mentioned in a low and hoarse voice: “You are so small, no bigger than any of my holes”! For a moment, sorrow flashed through the red button’s shinny eyes and spoke of everyone’s discouraging and nasty comments because of its size and colour. However, the sorrow lasted but a few minutes and then it started talking and laughing again. For it was happy now. While inspecting it, the wooden button considered: “What a funny little button this is! What could the manufacturer be thinking? How would he possibly make use of it?” It was about to laugh, pondering all these but felt ashamed for it was now old and wise and it should come up with the right answers instead of turning its only, for the time being, friend in that dark wooden drawer away. It looked at it affectionately, gently patted its head, and cut in stating: “My little red button, you may look funny, being so small, but that’s exactly what makes you special and unique. And your colour is not the colour of shame as you’ve been told, but the one of Love”.
And truly enough, so many wondrous things had the wooden button encountered during its travels, but it had never seen a colour red, so beautiful and bright, like our little button’s one. It grew quite fond of the tiny red button and felt grateful for its new friend even though they were so different from each other. From that day forth, they became inseparable. The wooden button was protecting the little one as if it was its child and shared all its affection and stories with it. The red button was waking up cheerful every morning and its colour was growing more and more vibrant because it was happy. The other buttons, the threads and the needles stopped mocking and teasing the little one and they were feeling jealous of it deep down, since, all by their fault, they had been deprived of the chance to hear all those stories the wooden button was narrating to it alone, every night, before they went to sleep. It was telling the red button stories about the sea and the sky, about ships and airplanes and the shapes the clouds were forming,
about swings and seesaws, about colourful animals and plants, birds and insects, about the rain and the sun, about physics, history and mathematics, about the air and music, since the young man loved his schoolbag so much that he never parted with it. So beautiful were the stories the red button heard that it craved such a journey for itself. And it kept wondering: “What a strange, yet wonderful place this big world out there must be!�
One morning, the red button was nowhere to be found. The wooden button was really worried and decided to break its silence, asking around if anyone had seen it. Without further ado and, to its great surprise, they all started looking for the little red button. Not before long, a needle found it weeping inconsolably in a paper sachet full of safety pins. The wooden button rushed at it, took it in its arms and tenderly asked it what was wrong. The little one, sank into its wooden arms and, between sobs, spoke of his woe: “I guess, I’m never going to see the world, like you did or like all the other buttons will be able to, someday.” “I am doomed to stay locked up here, forever, for I am a useless tinny button. I will never be given the chance to live the things you did…” said the little button in tears. The wooden button, then, wiped its little friend’s eyes, softly caressed it and said: “Don’t cry, my dear little button. It’s been a while now that I am thinking of a plan for you, but… I’m going to need all the help I can get and I’m not sure whether…” and before it could even finish its sentence, the other buttons, the needles and the threads, moved by their discussion, shouted with one voice: “YES! WE WILL HELP! WE WILL DO WHATEVER YOU SAY FOR THE LITTLE RED BUTTON TO TRAVEL!”
And suddenly, as if by miracle, everyone’s mood changed and it turned out to be a day of festivity, of reconciliation and solidarity! They were happy and cheerful and most of all, our little red button. When the night came on, the wooden button summoned everyone to attend a special meeting. Indeed, they all did and were waiting anxiously to hear its plan. It cleared its throat loudly and silence fell upon the drawer. “Here’s what I’ve been thinking”, said the wooden button softly. “One morning, just before I cracked and the lady had me replaced, I heard her telling her son that if he succeeded in his university entrance examinations, in the field of Archaeology that he desired, she would give him her old camera, which is very nice and of great sentimental value, as a gift. She also told him that she would knit him a very handsome case, in order to be able to protect his camera and take it along with him, to all of his journeys. Yesterday, when the lady opened the drawer to take a needle and the white thread, I heard cheerful voices in the house. And you, white thread, what did you see while out there? Would you like to share with us?” The white thread strutted forward. “Yes”, it said. “I heard that the lad did get accepted to the School of Archaeology and the lady, with our help, was sewing a button on his white shirt because
tonight they would all be going out to celebrate for the good news. And since she had forgotten us on the table for quite a while, we could see her knitting a multicolor case. That should definitely be the case of which you spoke earlier”, concluded the white thread. “But, what can we do to help? How do you reckon our red button would seem useful?”
Upon receiving the good news, the wooden button smiled at them and said: “The lady loves buttons! I’m sure she will choose one among the lot of you to adorn the multicolor case she has been knitting. I may be the biggest, yet, I’m also the weakest of you all. When the time comes, I’m going to need your help to lift the red button onto my shoulders, so that, when the lady opens the drawer to pick a button, her eyes shall immediately fall upon it! Beyond doubt, its bright red colour will stand out and the lady will choose to adorn the case with it. Even if none of you, needles, can fit into its tiny little holes, she will find the way to sew it on the case, as long as she sees it!” Everyone fell silent. They were trying to think of a way to help the wooden button, old and cracked as it was, to stand with the red button on its shoulders but the deed seemed impossible to be carried out. After a few minutes of awkward silence, a hoarse voice was heard from the depths of the drawer! “I will give you the solution to your problem”, said the voice. It was a long-forgotten, small tube of glue! Startled, they all turned around and looked at it. It kept on talking to them with excitement.
“I’ve been in here for too long and the lid has been glued on the tube, hence, it is impossible for me to get out. If the needles manage to pierce the tube, though, I will be able to trickle out! I will get myself spread on the two broken parts of the wooden button and then the thread reels will help, pushing with their full strength the two broken parts to one another. It will be glued back into place! I’m a very strong glue! The result will definitely be good! This way, the wooden button will be strong enough to lift our little friend onto its shoulders for as long as it takes! What do you think? Do you agree with me?” At once, they all started cheering and laughing, thrilled with the glue’s plan! And the wooden button agreed ecstatic. It also felt secretly happy at the thought of it being a strong and proper button once again. But, since its little friend’s emancipation was its first priority, it kept its enthusiasm for itself. No one felt like sleeping that night. They all agreed to start working on the plan right away! At first, the thin needles came forth, for they could easily pierce the glue tube. Then, the thread reels charged and started hammering the eyes of the needles, driving their tips into the tube.
When the first small crack appeared on the tube, the thicker needles took on until, eventually, the glue trickled out like a rill! The first part of the plan was a success! Without delay, before the glue would congeal, they all made way for the wooden button to approach. Along with it, and always by its side holding its hand tightly in its own, came the red button, delighted with this whole effort taking place for its sake. The needles carried the necessary amount of glue and put it between the wooden button’s broken pieces and once they were done, the thread reels came in, pushing all the way to the left and then all the way to the right! In fact, they took turns doing so, for it was a hard job that required physical strength and endurance! All night long they were working and some of them had drifted off to sleep. Even the red button fell asleep with a smile spread across its face. Surely, it was dreaming! And suddenly, just before dawn, a joyful voice woke everybody up: “At last! The wooden button’s pieces are finally glued together! The plan worked!” While everyone was clapping and cheering, the red button jumped up from its seat, ran up to its friend who was now whole and strong and hugged it tightly. A new, proper button all over again the wooden button was!
Their joy and excitement was interrupted by the sound of the lady’s steps, approaching fast towards the drawer! “How can it be? Why would the lady wake up so early in the morning?” wondered the wooden button and everyone remained silent and still in place. Little did they know that she had stayed up all night too, knitting the camera case and that now she had but one thing left to do: find a beautiful, special button to adorn that case. Everybody let out a sigh of anguish when the lady opened the drawer. But… oh, what a stroke of luck! That very moment, the phone rang and the lady ran to answer it. This gave the thread reels time to hastily set themselves up as a stand where the wooden button, with our little red button on its shoulders, could climb, assisted by the threads and the needles. By the time the lady reapproached the drawer, everything had fallen into place; a little bit of luck was what they now needed. They all waited with bated breath. The lady, astonished at what she saw, held the wooden button between her fingers, but, exhausted as she was, having pulled an all-nighter, she could not recall when she had repaired it. “I must have repaired it sometime, but it has completely slipped my mind…”, she reflected. She lingered on that thought for a while, but the prospect of adorning her son’s school bag with his favourite button once again gave her such joy that her trouble didn’t last for long.
And that scarlet tiny button, as small as a cherry pit… she held it between her fingers and thought: “What a beautiful little button; it’s so special!”
She picked needles and threads in a hurry and began sewing. When she took the little buttons and the needles out of the drawer, she, absentmindedly, left it open and the other buttons climbed on its ridge. Happy and excited, they could see the lady sewing the little red button on the new camera case; they could also see the large wooden button reassuming its former place on her son’s school bag. He wouldn’t part with it, not even during the college years and within, he would keep his new camera case and numerous other odds and ends of sentimental value; all together, they would set off for new journeys of discovery.
A great party took place in the drawer that day. The experience they shared brought them closer and they lived happy together. And this was just the beginning of a long journey! Yet another new journey for the wooden button, but this time around, accompanied by its best friend. A journey beyond the little red button’s wildest dreams; dreams that finally came true!!
THE END
Many thanks to my friends, Chara Varsama who, having been the first to read this fairytale, looked at me in the eye with a huge smile across her face and encouraged me to make sure that it “flies� and Stavros Catsoprinakis, the godfather of the fairytale at hand!
Sofia Saridaki was born and raised in Heraklion, Crete in 1980. She studies Spanish Philology at the National & Kapodistrian University of Athens and at the University of Lleida in Spain. She is fluent in 4 foreign languages. Watching her cousin, she began drawing at the age of four. In the future, she wants to pursue a career in translation and interpretation.
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“Once upon a time there was a button, a red button, small as a cherry pit: and it had a dream… a big dream…”
ISBN: 978-618-5040-95-6