The Trap

"I know it's a trap, Jeremiah, but it's our only lead. We have to go."

"Man, that's the dumbest cliche ever. That would be a pretty bad reason to die."

Martin paced the room in frustration.

"What we should do, martin, is set up a counter-trap!"

He stopped, and his eyes lit up. "Of course! Why didn't I think of that? It's brlliant! Trap the trappers!"

He paused.

"Unless...That's what they want us to do. In which case they'll have counter-measures."

Jeremiah's face hardened. "A trap to trap us trapping them?"

"Exactly. it's simple logic. Stay one move ahead of your opponent and you'll surely triumph."

"That's some Sun Tzu type stuff right there, Martin."

'It's a good book, you should read it."

"I will, Martin."

There was a moment of silence.

"We have only one option then. Set up another trap. A snare to catch the hunters who seek to trap us capturing them in the act of ambushing us."

"But they'll just trap us trapping them trapping us trapping them trapping us-"

"Are you having a stroke, Jeremiah?"

He smiled to himself. "Maybe. A stroke of genius. Here's the plan-"

--- 18 Hours later, at the rendezvous point ---

Concentric circles of hidden people, thirty tiers at least, all set up to trap trappers. All waiting for Martin and Jeremiah; as well as their inevitable meta-traps. The clock ticked, and the tension grew. They would come, and it would be soon.

And then they heard a sound. A subtle droning far above them. If it hadn't been dark they might have seen a blur falling from the sky. But as it is the first thing, and the last thing, that they saw was the flash of light.

My Shadow

My shadow walks with me, when no one else will. And even if he is hidden by the darkness, I know that he is still there. He comforts me, he is my companion.

But now the unbearable brightness of a thousand suns beats down on me, and even my shadow flees from me. Under the glaring light all of my flaws are laid bare, and my virtues are shown in all their flimsiness. I am undone. One by one the people I have known throughout my life come and bear witness against me. If it was false witness I think I could bear it. But it is all true, every fragment of the evidence. Their statements are factual, blunt and unemotional. The weight of it strikes me to my knees.

And then, in my darkest, clearest, brightest hour, my shadow comes back.

He takes the stand, and for a moment I am sure that he willing bring the most damning evidence of all. But he does not. He states the facts, he goes over the territory again. But from my perspective, from my position. He shows my weakness, yes, but he also explains how I struggled against it, and was just not strong enough. He displays my cowardice, but the courage that led me into the situation that I most feared. He walks through my life, with me at every step.

But the raw fact of my weakness remains, and in this I am surely doomed. Until my shadow goes back, way back, to the beginning. And here he shows how strong I once was, and the plague that sapped and undermined me. It was not my fault that I caught the plague, no, I was born with it. He spoke of my faith, my faith in my family, my talents, and my shadow.

And only then do the lights cease to pierce me, and my shadow returns to my side. it is a new world, a new chance. And my shadow is with me.

Put the needle down.

"Put the needle down." he said quietly, dangerously, with a contraction of the frontalis muscle. This was his favorite song. To interrupt it was a deep personal insult. But this is what I had just done.

I held the needle in the air above the record, and looked at him, smiling slightly. "You played this record nearly 230 times in the last week." I said. "You've just about driven me crazy." I said. "Crazy people can be dangerous." I said. He said nothing, but began walking slowly toward me. I think it has driven him slightly crazy too. In fact, this whole apartment building is a little mad from it.

"Put it down. This can end here. It doesn't have to be this way. Nobody has to get hurt."

My left eyelid twitched perceptibly. "It's gone much too far for that." I muttered.

As he approached he seemed to become less and less threatening, but more desperate. He had seemed so tough a few seconds ago, but now... I detected a certain weakness in him. A certain fragility. As if any real impact or mishandling would damage him permanently, or even break him.

My eye twitched again, and his did the same. I began to lower the needle and he relaxed a little.

And then, with a sweep of my arm and a little wrist action I scratched the record.

The scream of the record found an echo in his throat. His eyes rolled backwards in his head, his knees began to buckle. And with a final hiss, he fell to the ground, stone dead.

"Rock on." I said coldly. "Rock on."