Pot Of Gold

A middle-aged man was out for a stroll with his small dog. It was a bright autumn afternoon and nicer than expected for the time of year. The weather forecast had predicted a damp day, but the sky was making no such threats. The man had decided, as the day was pleasant enough, to walk his dog through the woods near their home. However, once inside the woods, the sky turned treacherous, and quickly became dark with menacing black clouds, so that both man and dog were caught in a dreadful downpour. The rain came quickly in fat droplets that exploded off bark and leaf alike, and the entire wood seemed to be telling them, “Shhh!” There was no lightning or thunder to follow, so taking shelter beneath the trees was a perfectly acceptable plan in the absence of an umbrella.

“Come on Rory, this way!” cried the man as he lead his furry little friend deeper into the woods, away from the path they’d been following.

Rory took the lead and scampered to a particular tree, sniffing it with great interest. The tree was an old oak of a good size and still had a reasonable amount of leaves for shelter, so Henry, Rory’s owner and master, did not object to his best friend’s choice. Taking cover as well he could under the tree, Henry became aware of Rory’s curiosity – a smell had caught the dog’s nose and he was foraging in a small shrub close to them. Frowning with curiosity, Henry turned his attention from his soggy surroundings to stare down at his dog’s find.

“What is it, Rory?”

Rory ignored the question and started to dig at the roots of the shrub, but after only a few fast paws at the earth a bright spark flashed in front of him and Rory jumped back with a yelp.

Henry gasped, but was swift to recover from this surprise and quickly became consumed with curiosity.

“What have we here then?” he asked aloud as he bent to inspect the cause of the spark. As he leaned down the rain died away with his descent, leaving only singular drops dripping from their perches in the trees, tapping out an ambient beat in the background of Henry’s thoughts. Henry squatted, staring at the place in the dirt that had sparkled, while Rory edged forwards and tucked his nose out from under one of Henry’s knees. The final drops of rain faded away and as the sun banished the clouds overhead, a burst of colour exploded from the shrub, shooting upwards into the sky and rocking Henry over onto his behind. His head went back as his eyes followed the rocket of colour, awed by its beauty and dwarfed by its size.

Rory began to bark at the phenomenon and leapt around, his short tail wagging with excitement, as they were both shrouded in bright colour.

It was like nothing Henry had ever seen; such brilliantly vivid, dazzlingly clear and sharply defined colours. Fierce reds, bright yellows, soft pinks, fresh greens, mouth-watering oranges, velvety purples and deep blues. He felt as if he’d been looking at things in black and white his whole life up to this point. Climbing to his feet he staggered around in the colour until his foot kicked something. There was a loud clink followed by a tinkling sound as something shattered. At once all the amazing colour around them blinked out and shrunk, recoiling downwards, absorbed into a central point. Henry looked to see what he had done and there by his foot was a single gold coin, as large as the palm of his hand and warmly glowing. The rim of the coin had no one colour, but continuously alternated with all the colours that had engulfed him moments before. Around the coin were two large shards of twinkling glass, that had previously been some sort of pot.

Slowly Henry bent down and reached out his hand to pick up the coin, but as his fingers hovered inches above it he hesitated. The tips of his fingers felt warm, tingling with electricity in a sensation that tickled and made him smile.

Rory’s barking had lessened now and panting, he waited to see what would happen next.

Henry licked his lips. His hand started to tremble as he moved it further downwards, until his index finger made contact with the coin sending a pleasant jolt up his arm. He closed his fingers over the piece of gold which felt soft and warm and lifted it, but as soon as it left the ground, Henry launched up into the air like human missile.

Rory began to bark wildly as his master blasted upwards, passing immaterially through the branches overhead, soaring hundreds of meters in seconds and passing through an arc across the sky and away from the woods.

Henry screamed in complete exhilaration, feeling only a rushing sensation in his stomach and fresh air caressing his face, rather than the crushing gravity that he should have experienced. Leaping like a jet-propelled frog, he sprang from where he had sheltered in the woods, to land miles away on the flat roof of the town library. With a huge smile on his face, Henry looked at the coin gripped in his hand and stared, hypnotised for a moment as rainbow colours swirled in front of him around the face of the coin. Surrounded by puddles from the recent rain, Henry became aware that each of the little shallow pools reflected the image of the coin. Swirling, hazy clouds of mixed colours shone delicately out from dozens of places around him, and where there weren’t any puddles, the roof itself seemed to ripple with colour, showing the affects of the mysterious coin.

The coin throbbed in Henry’s hand, pulsating gently with the colours it was made from. The pattern on the coin was a design like nothing he had ever seen. Made from colours with no clearly definable edge and constantly changing tones, the only thing Henry could liken the pattern to was a multicoloured cloud, twirling across a bright, sun-stained sky. He turned the coin over and saw that the reverse side had a picture of a golden sun with silver rain drops engraved upon it, set above a starry pot.

“Hmm…” pondered Henry out loud. Then in a logical observation, “This must be some sort of coin from the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow… A Rainbow Coin!” Chuckling at his conclusion, he continued, “Well I never! Who’d have ever thought that old tale to have any truth to it!”

Henry shuffled to the edge of the roof and looked around him. There was a bright rainbow shining from where he stood, back across the sky towards the woods. Squinting off in that direction, he observed the black clouds on the distant horizon.

“I’m glad it stopped raining before I found this thing! Shooting like that through the downpour wouldn’t have been very nice!”

Still holding the coin tightly, Henry looked up and around at the view from the roof of the library and let out a great sigh at the breath-taking view. Beyond the woods there was darkness from the rain, but before him was a sun-lit afternoon sky, blue and sprinkled with only white clouds, lazily ambling along. The wet roof was already beginning to show signs of recovery as Henry moved back across it and again looked at the coin. To this day, he could not tell you how he knew what to do next, but somehow he had known that if he raised the coin in his hand up to the sky, with the coloured side up and stared into the golden sun, the rainbow would be back to carry him away to wherever he chose.

Seconds later and with another yell resulting from this most thrilling method of transport, Henry was standing on a patch of muddy grass in the woods. He stood in a slow-falling shower of leaves knocked loose by the power of the returning rainbow and was slightly stunned. An overexcited Rory bounded around him and turned in little circles, relieved to be with his master once more.

Years later, a much older and wiser man stood by a window in his home, looking out after a rainstorm at two bright rainbows decorating a sunny sky. Mother Nature, having exerted herself with heavy cloud and hard rain, now nurtured her world with relaxing rays of light and soft breezes.

Like he had known how the coin worked, Henry had also known when it was time to give it up. It had been hard to give up such a beautiful possession, but one day long ago now, he had again taken an older Rory up to the woods and together they had buried the coin where they had found it. The treasure of a rainbow was not to be selfishly kept and guarded, but given to chance and the lucky few who might find it as Henry had done. But ever since that day, Henry had always been there, by a window at exactly the right moment to watch whenever a rainbow was born.