Early morning: My teeth were stolen from under my nose last night, as well as my watch. I returned, frantically, to the house I found yesterday, and found them only after half an hour spent searching. Thankfully, it was not compromised before I left. The watch wasn’t worth nearly as much. Once that was done, I was on the road again, all by my lonesome. I thought as I walked, to help pass the time. I thought that maybe some people are just destined to be alone, because of the truths they think no one will believe… when, in fact, we all have similar things to hide. It’s fairly common to open up to someone, only to find they’ve had a similar experience or can relate for one reason or another. I walked for a few hours, and stopped in a diner around noon.
Noon: As I ate my lunch, an old man came to sit with me. I had never met this man before in my life, yet instantly I felt as though I should trust him. He watched me silently for nearly twenty minutes as I ate, looking into my eyes and seeming to read deep into my soul. When I finished, he reached out and took hold of my wrist. He put his index and middle fingers there, as though feeling for a pulse. Then he nodded, folding his hands on his lap.
“Young man,” he said, “I don’t pretend to know what you’ve been through. I don’t know who, or what, you’ve lost in your incredibly short life. Nor do I know the extent of your pain. Nor do I have some mystical reason for such unjust things happening to perfectly good people. The one thing I do know is that your heart yet beats. It is wounded, but strong. You’ll live.”
He smiled as if this was all I needed to hear, and nothing else he could say would be of any further use to me. Then he left the diner entirely, and when I followed him to watch him leave, he was already gone. I returned inside and paid for my meal before returning to the lonely road.
Late evening: A young man, clearly wealthy and with fabulous hair, drove me the rest of the way to my destination. We spoke about life, and I told him about my encounter with the old man. He told me he’d use that line for sure when trying to get a girl on rebound. I nodded absently and spent the rest of the long drive watching the grass fly by.
After arriving at my destination, I watched my contact conduct a symphony of destruction. It was equal parts the most beautiful and terrifying thing I’ve ever seen. The sounds and sights were glorious, and the screams of fear and pain seemed to only amplify the beauty of the song. Yet as he played, tears streamed down his cheeks. I wanted to touch his shoulder, to comfort him, but I was afraid I would throw off the music. What he was doing would wound his soul, and no one can talk that hurt away. Yet it was necessary. Entirely necessary. For the greater good, fitting sacrifices must be made. A sheep is born a sheep because it is not meant to be a wolf, and like the wolf, it must play its parts in the food chain.
Finally, the symphony ended. Our work was finished for the night. Good. The future won’t plan itself, after all.
(italics courtesy of Mortal Coils by Eric Nylund, a book I would totally recommend as a fun read)