"Hey, uh, bro. What's in the box?"
The grizzled man turned lowly, shifting the box slightly on his knee as he did so, to fix the speaker with a bright blue eye. The other eye-socket was covered by a surprisingly posh looking eyepatch. A grumbling mutter with the timbre of an imprecation bubbled forth from the scraggly beard.
The curious man moved a bit closer, uncowed. "Look you look pretty hungry, I'll give you five bucks to show me what's in the box?"
Silence.
"Ten?"
A subtle change of posture, nothing more.
"Twenty? Look man, that's good money-"
Suddenly the man reared forward and spit, mostly on the solicitor's shiny shoes. This elicited little response.
"Wow man, it must be something pretty snazzy in that box."
The bearded man turned away a bit, but nodded his head slightly.
The younger man walked away, his curiosity unsated. He'd always wonder what was in the box.
Saturday, February 23, 2013
Thursday, February 21, 2013
Bells
The bells tolled slowly, one after another. It was no funeral that they
proclaimed this time, nor a marriage. It warned of death, and a union
that could not be stayed, The dark valley echoed with the sound, its
dark trees seemed to sway slightly in the harmony. The sun had long set,
but the moon was full and high and the clear sky. The cobbled streets were empty, even the animals had been taken away in the exitus.
The time had come again, it had long been anticipated but the specific time of its coming had been a shock to the denizens. No life stirred in the shadowy windows, no people came and went through the many doors. No cattle lowed in the barns, the sound of the bell went on and on, uninterrupted and uncontested.
For one had stayed when all others had fled. It was his duty and his vocation. He must warn of what would come, and warn he did. High in the churchtower he swung on the bellrope, pulling with a rhythm he had learned long ago.
He had kept few of his belongings, sending most of them away with the others. He kept an old letter, addressed to him and clearly written. That was all.
There was one more soul in the church that day. One that long ago found himself on the wrong side, on the side with the bell. Now was his chance to return to his place, though a home it was not. Long had he waited for this night.
The two worlds were coming together, as they had before and would again. And those with shadows must remember their names, their homes, their old lives. Or they would lost in the fog and the wandering souls. The wanderers must recall that they had none.
But the warning must be given. The bell tolled on.
The time had come again, it had long been anticipated but the specific time of its coming had been a shock to the denizens. No life stirred in the shadowy windows, no people came and went through the many doors. No cattle lowed in the barns, the sound of the bell went on and on, uninterrupted and uncontested.
For one had stayed when all others had fled. It was his duty and his vocation. He must warn of what would come, and warn he did. High in the churchtower he swung on the bellrope, pulling with a rhythm he had learned long ago.
He had kept few of his belongings, sending most of them away with the others. He kept an old letter, addressed to him and clearly written. That was all.
There was one more soul in the church that day. One that long ago found himself on the wrong side, on the side with the bell. Now was his chance to return to his place, though a home it was not. Long had he waited for this night.
The two worlds were coming together, as they had before and would again. And those with shadows must remember their names, their homes, their old lives. Or they would lost in the fog and the wandering souls. The wanderers must recall that they had none.
But the warning must be given. The bell tolled on.
Monday, February 18, 2013
Truth
A silhouette in an old fashioned hat leaned outside the brightly lit window, smoking an obscure brand of cigarette. The man's nonchalance was remarkable, considering the climb he'd had to make to attain the seventh story fire escape. Within, his reward seemed to be in the offing.
"The job on Mark Cedars went off like a charm. We just went with your plan and it was smooth as a baby's bottom."
A cough followed. These brainy types do not object to the cash of their inferiors, but talking to them was often a burden.
"Of course it went well, moja podruja, my plans always do." He could almost picture the uplifted eyebrow of the man within. One man wondering whether "moja podruja" qualified as fighting words, and the other wondering at his own patience.
"Well Professor, your money will be deposited as planned. Seeya around!"
The door slammed loudly. There was the tinkle of beverage preparation and a sigh or two from the lone man within.
"I wonder," the professor began, talking to himself as he often did (finding himself the most intelligent and remarkable man of his acquaintance), "when I should do away with that little man."
The silhouette finally stirred, shaking out the match of second cigarette, and spoke. "Perhaps another day, Professor. I believe much of your calendar will be filled for the coming years."
A gasp, a smash, and the splash of displaced alcohol. A scramble for a a gun, perhaps.
He stepped into full view and tapped his cigarette on the intellectual's windowsill, the ashes fluttering down to the rich carpet inside. "You pull that gun and I'll give me an excuse to drill you right between the eyes."
The drawer closed and he flopped back into his chair, a beaten man.
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Ashes
I was once the brightest star in a flourishing empire. My warriors were innumerable, my lands were wide beyond wide. My craftsmen were brilliant and ever advancing; I was clad in mail and girt with sword that far surpassed my contemporaries. Yet I was not alone in my glory, I too was under the emperor, I too had both masters and servants. There was one man and one flag to whom I must bow my head.
Long I was content with this, and my star burned brightly among its companions, and under the one highest star of all. After a time I began to suspect that this fire above me was not far lighter than mine. Indeed, some nights mine shone the fairer of the two. Both waxed and waned, as do all celestial things.
When the nights were darkest, all the barons stood with the emperor, our armies acted as one and none stood before us. But in the milder hours, such vigils did not hold. We would speak among ourselves of small things, and each would try and outshine the others.
The fire burned on, and the empire spread far. Mountains, cold and high, rivers, wide and swift, jungles, dense and foreign to us; all of these we overcame, one by one. But the more we conquered, the more we saw there was to conquer. This is a wide world.
But as a fire spreads, it often weakens, or separates into many smaller fires. The emperor waned as we waxed strong with battle. His flame flickered, and many thought to blow it out that their own lights might better be seen. But of its own accord, in its own time, it fell and did not rise.
Then all the flares and blazes on the distant borders of the realm whirled back to the center from which they had sprung, long ago. In our very capital our armies clashed, drew back, and clashed anew. The northerners in their white mail, the jungle fighters with their paint and their battle cries, and my own men, with their gold lances and high horses.
That day, all the fire burned down to ashes, and that was all that remained.
Long I was content with this, and my star burned brightly among its companions, and under the one highest star of all. After a time I began to suspect that this fire above me was not far lighter than mine. Indeed, some nights mine shone the fairer of the two. Both waxed and waned, as do all celestial things.
When the nights were darkest, all the barons stood with the emperor, our armies acted as one and none stood before us. But in the milder hours, such vigils did not hold. We would speak among ourselves of small things, and each would try and outshine the others.
The fire burned on, and the empire spread far. Mountains, cold and high, rivers, wide and swift, jungles, dense and foreign to us; all of these we overcame, one by one. But the more we conquered, the more we saw there was to conquer. This is a wide world.
But as a fire spreads, it often weakens, or separates into many smaller fires. The emperor waned as we waxed strong with battle. His flame flickered, and many thought to blow it out that their own lights might better be seen. But of its own accord, in its own time, it fell and did not rise.
Then all the flares and blazes on the distant borders of the realm whirled back to the center from which they had sprung, long ago. In our very capital our armies clashed, drew back, and clashed anew. The northerners in their white mail, the jungle fighters with their paint and their battle cries, and my own men, with their gold lances and high horses.
That day, all the fire burned down to ashes, and that was all that remained.
Friday, February 15, 2013
Sleep
He stumbled onward, each foot moving irregularly through the dust. His ragged hat was pushed down far over his eyes, blocking out the sun setting slightly to his left. He did not fall, for if he did he could not rise again.
His numb brain heard a rhythmic sound, at first he thought it was merely a new drumming in his ears. The sound became louder and more defined, and suddenly he recognized it. They were still after him, and today they would get him again.
He did not look back, he knew what he would have seen. He kept putting one foot in front of the other, striving with his last breath for freedom. He stood a little straighter and walked a bit steadier; they would not see him fall.
With one hand he fumbled under his coat, searching for his last link to his old life. It was interesting that this very link both drove him to escape and saved him when he failed in his endeavors. Each attempt began and ended with the little silver pin.
The rhythmic sound ebbed and was suddenly drowned out by the thudding boots of soldiers. He finally slowed to a stop, and and, with a dirty dignity, turned to face the oncoming warriors. He raised one hand to his hat, and with the other he held his badge at shoulder height.
There was a word of command, hissed in a language that he wished was as unfamiliar to him now as it once had been. The soldiers lowered their weapons and surrounded him.
The officer's jeep rolled up next to him and stopped gently.
"I beg you to get in, Major. The game is over again, and you have lost."
"It is no game to me." He returned, and he faced away to sweep the horizon once more with his gaze.
As he did, he caught a sudden glare of light between the trees. It was not too far distant.
He started to get into the jeep, but with a sudden movement, his young self shining through for but a moment, he whipped the pistol from the officer's belt and pointed the man's own gun at him.
"Go away now and you might still save yourselves. Or sue for pardon from the ones who are coming. They are coming at last, and they are coming for me."
As he spoke the detachment of tanks came out of the woods and into full view over his shoulder. the officer's eyes bulged with fear.
Tonight, that ragged tired man would sleep once again.
His numb brain heard a rhythmic sound, at first he thought it was merely a new drumming in his ears. The sound became louder and more defined, and suddenly he recognized it. They were still after him, and today they would get him again.
He did not look back, he knew what he would have seen. He kept putting one foot in front of the other, striving with his last breath for freedom. He stood a little straighter and walked a bit steadier; they would not see him fall.
With one hand he fumbled under his coat, searching for his last link to his old life. It was interesting that this very link both drove him to escape and saved him when he failed in his endeavors. Each attempt began and ended with the little silver pin.
The rhythmic sound ebbed and was suddenly drowned out by the thudding boots of soldiers. He finally slowed to a stop, and and, with a dirty dignity, turned to face the oncoming warriors. He raised one hand to his hat, and with the other he held his badge at shoulder height.
There was a word of command, hissed in a language that he wished was as unfamiliar to him now as it once had been. The soldiers lowered their weapons and surrounded him.
The officer's jeep rolled up next to him and stopped gently.
"I beg you to get in, Major. The game is over again, and you have lost."
"It is no game to me." He returned, and he faced away to sweep the horizon once more with his gaze.
As he did, he caught a sudden glare of light between the trees. It was not too far distant.
He started to get into the jeep, but with a sudden movement, his young self shining through for but a moment, he whipped the pistol from the officer's belt and pointed the man's own gun at him.
"Go away now and you might still save yourselves. Or sue for pardon from the ones who are coming. They are coming at last, and they are coming for me."
As he spoke the detachment of tanks came out of the woods and into full view over his shoulder. the officer's eyes bulged with fear.
Tonight, that ragged tired man would sleep once again.
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