Thursday, May 12, 2005
The Job Offer
Once upon time there was a boy dark of mood, followed by clouds, that saw beauty in death and made beautiful and horrible pictures of monsters madness and life in decay. One night a woman from the government came to the town where he lived, a place climbing back from crumbling industry and out of its generations thick coat of smoke and ash. She told the boy that she knew his secret. She told him the government knew his secret. Then she offered him a job. The boy looked up at the woman from under his coffin black bangs. Eyes large and dark like fresh dug earth searched, narrowed with intent then went soft with confusion. The woman stared down at the boy and shook her head slowly. When after a sullen silence he asked, she assured him that of course he had a choice. For some time they stood this way silent, staring. Despite her interest in his secret the woman was nonetheless disturbed by the boy. She told him that she would return in three days for his answer.
The boy wandered the great cemeteries of his smudged and ashen town. Options, strategies, plans and possibilities tumbled over each other in his mind. Occasionally, happening upon aggrieved mourners he would secret himself behind a nearby monument, intent on there activity, cheering his troubled soul, lessening their burden.
At last the final midnight came heralding the breaking point between the days of deliberation and the day of reckoning. It found him sitting on the steps of a crumbling mausoleum, a resting place for a baron of dashed and dishonored fiefdom, for his squandering kin, but not for the boy. He knew there was no choice, there never was.
The following afternoon the woman from the government returned as she had said and asked the boy his answer. He shrugged, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his shapeless black coat. His eyes, just visible below the broad brim of his day-wandering hat, were focused on a point far from the woman, far from the room in which they stood. Although she tried to hide it the woman’s impatience edged towards a level the boy could sense even in the more usual way. Whether it was to be done with her business or simply out of his presence he could not tell. They stood there for some time until at last the woman asked if he needed more time. Time, he knew time offered no hope. Time only delayed the inevitable. The boy shook his head. He turned away from the woman and from behind a chair pulled a large bag. Battered, half empty, it had been made to fight some long ago war and appeared still more defeated once slung over the boy’s low shoulder.
The woman looked at him, triumph and uneasiness battling across her brow. She opened the door and mustered a stiff but nearly convincing smile. The boy wasn’t convinced, but then he never looked up. Hat low over his face, shoulder hunched against his burden, eyes cast low he trudged through the doorway in silence. The woman followed closing the door behind her. The smile sliding from her face it became clear that uneasiness was winning the war.
The boy wandered the great cemeteries of his smudged and ashen town. Options, strategies, plans and possibilities tumbled over each other in his mind. Occasionally, happening upon aggrieved mourners he would secret himself behind a nearby monument, intent on there activity, cheering his troubled soul, lessening their burden.
At last the final midnight came heralding the breaking point between the days of deliberation and the day of reckoning. It found him sitting on the steps of a crumbling mausoleum, a resting place for a baron of dashed and dishonored fiefdom, for his squandering kin, but not for the boy. He knew there was no choice, there never was.
The following afternoon the woman from the government returned as she had said and asked the boy his answer. He shrugged, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his shapeless black coat. His eyes, just visible below the broad brim of his day-wandering hat, were focused on a point far from the woman, far from the room in which they stood. Although she tried to hide it the woman’s impatience edged towards a level the boy could sense even in the more usual way. Whether it was to be done with her business or simply out of his presence he could not tell. They stood there for some time until at last the woman asked if he needed more time. Time, he knew time offered no hope. Time only delayed the inevitable. The boy shook his head. He turned away from the woman and from behind a chair pulled a large bag. Battered, half empty, it had been made to fight some long ago war and appeared still more defeated once slung over the boy’s low shoulder.
The woman looked at him, triumph and uneasiness battling across her brow. She opened the door and mustered a stiff but nearly convincing smile. The boy wasn’t convinced, but then he never looked up. Hat low over his face, shoulder hunched against his burden, eyes cast low he trudged through the doorway in silence. The woman followed closing the door behind her. The smile sliding from her face it became clear that uneasiness was winning the war.
