Why the Night?

A boy of any age came into the world, eyes wide and hiding little.

His mother loved him well, and father turned his head. He learned his lessons well.

He followed his dreams, so far as they would let him. __

A twig snapped beneath his feet, and cracked the silence all around him, and he slipped into a stillness, slightly less innocent of his impact on the area, just until at the last edge of the instant a whip of wind from up above came first over his forehead and flushed his face, and he made out broad feather tips passing softly through the misty sky in two great slow strokes.

_

The fumes of fried foods alone could have intoxicated him.

So many lives passed by his eyes, and he wondered where he fit in among them.

The child’s eyes, beheld by all but the holder

Dispersed as if he were a rippling atom on/in a vast sea. The faces’ lines told truer tales, more feeling full or feeling fear ???? alive and writhing all the time, all warped all forever on display, in every instant and in none, before all

___

“Don’t touch that, dearest!” mother cried, the child’s eyes remaining wide. And father’s absent gaze replied.

(al)Though shrouded by the crowd he heard quite clear the cry aloud.

[“You who would set yourself apart!”]

“Come lad!” he paused, as if dropping a line in the deep, two fingers pressed against his forehead. “Who would sail the seas who wouldn’t see a storm?!”

When his eyes turned swiftly, heading plea, and the sea had parted at the knees, their gazes set with instant ease.

You, lad, yes, yes, you!

Tall and thin, he was sharply dressed in a black suit and crisp white shirt and coattails, with a shock of black hair slicked straight back. His stark face was thin and lined, with a sharp nose

From his coat pocket he soon produced a stack of index cards bearing the names and figures of various afflictions, (aberrations) and atrocities from across the world, which he presented proudly to the boy, though with a grave sincerity.

“I (can) see it in your style, child!” “You long for loss of innocence!”

“Come quick! Know! Seek, See!”

“Come to the inevitable conclusion(s)!” ((of (your) doom (?))

[A desire took hold in/of him, forgetting (his former fear and) (the) affairs of fair and family.]

He passed the [kettle corn]- “We will all taste emancipation.”

________________

The burning sun sent little beads of sweat down his cheeks, and the salt stung his lips.

__

“I think it’s uh, straight aways a bit, and then right, no left, right.” “Right, thanks.”

They told him this was the way. It seemed plausible.

The shepherd led him softly to sleep// astray.

______________

Coins, money

It’s eternal. It is free.

It is slave and master.

You would move the world.

Money changer. “(It’s) hot, isn’t it? Spend it! Isn’t it hot? Get an ice cream!

Choose wisely now. Fulfil yourself. Yes!

Spend it! Yes, break it’s hold on you!”

The boy obliged, and ordered a simple single cone.

“My, my! That does look good. Give it to me, for inspection.”

The boy stopped nibbling. He stared, and gave it to him, and he promptly chomped it entire. The boy stood stunned.

“Always mind the terms of any contract!”

__________________

At times he saw the clock face, with its red second hand and fierce persistent ticking, positioned just at the top of his gaze, when he had one. But on and on, whether with or without his fitful sight, the tick clicked through him, as if a slight tap down the whole of him, more felt than heard. And on and on it ticked, ticked, ticked.

Machine beeps pulsed up his spine, each in a rhythm and a unison of its own, though together they formed a discordant storm, which buzzed and hummed and blipped, attacking his collapsed senses, and at times he felt he could tell the correspondences, the chirps at different volumes, pitches, changing all the time at certain places on his spine, til he bled his breath and slipped further still beneath the surface. But on the simple school-clock clicked, ticking, tapping, taunting.

____

The pages turned, and the child yearned.

As an artist, nay the master craftsman, he first fashioned himself into an instrument that would tune into the infinite unborrowed yet.

He swam upstream, and was swept away.

____

He came upon an intersection, two paths diverging, indiscernible and indeterminate, with two blank signs pointing away from one another. He wondered whether they had ever born inscriptions, but they seemed severe, and stood in unyielding opposition. He stood before them, utterly indifferent to the outcome, unable to choose between the parting paths.

He considered a coin-toss.

On and on he waited, chafing as they passed him by, each embarking on their purpose, til he slipped into a quicksand.

_____

He felt himself a field of forces falling all arranged together, fighting (??), frightening driving him on along a chaos grid of truths in all directions at once, conducted stuck, standing stiff and frozen still, until he came to with a shiver.

Here he found himself upon a thin ice suspended in the sky- and bashed his fist against it until it bled and slumped there baffled at the infinite unblemished expanse- except for this- his own crude drop of blood stain.

________________

As a gambler, he felt free.

But fuel fed the fire- the risk was exposure, and expertise was the result of it- if you could run enough simulations past the mind, you could numb yourself to it- to the sense of danger, and play the odds unconcerned. So he came to feel himself above it all, beyond the odds. Until his watch unravelled.

__________________

The siege surged. Bills came in late.

When he finally caught the truth, he sold it.

The loneliness ate away at him.

He always swore he wouldn’t.

“How long can he… last, on a vent?” “Oh, forever, basically.”

_____

In the forest of faces he thought he saw them standing there, felt their gaze upon him, felt himself marked and embarrassed though ….. Inated??? Further still.

All his, mocking somehow

Wilfully he walked (and came upon a pool/pond) beneath a willow.

He bent before the spring.

In the mirror the waters rippled

Rippling.. (ripples) (lines (appear) getting) clearer, as the features in the mirror flashed on through the ages, changing faces, trading places, eyes rolling different shades. He felt the drums beat in his blood.

Born in a barren land, he stole to eat.

Born over and over, rising to occasions and falling from them. He fought father-sons and uncles, brothers, each as they betrayed him.

Until at long last the most daring among those grew weary of a worthless wreath and defined himself in opposition to his heritage, completing its obscure ironic will.

Stormed the throne room screaming ‘I am guilty! Set me free!’

_______________

He placed her ashes on the mantelpiece, and sank back in the loveseat.

____

And with all his might he whipped the slave that had been so incredibly disrespectful.

“Why did God create such shit?” he grinned. “I am the hand.”

_____

The clock ticked steadily, though it seemed to him to ebb and flow, accelerating and slowing down.

“We’re losing him!”

Hanging on, struggling, drowning, sinking downward- and in the instant he let go all would fall black and vast, (all un

grounded,) weightless, – all dispersed, so he could sense the space between himself- between his cells, blank images of names and memories (were) flying off the shelves inside his mind, all slipped on a never ending stream, - til the feeling of the flowing air through him and of himself floating in the air were one in the same.

____

“For-/ever/ ever?”

“Yes. I promise.”

“Pinky promise?”

“Pinky promise.”

_______

The martyr zipped his pants up.

“Wow, what a ride! What a way to go out! Totally invigorating!”

________

(He) kept his brother’s secret til he’d long forgotten it, when/and he screamed it in a dream.

___

Finally a childhood friend arrived to visit him, having heard the news from some other mutual friend on Facebook.

“Daniel!” at his face in the door her mug slipped from her hand and shattered on the floor.

“I.. heard what happened.”

Day after day the two took turns keeping watch, and with his fresh head and new energy- she was just so damn drained by now- kept trying to stir his memory, playing music, meditations, books and movies, even telling stories, searching for some sort of resonance that could pierce whatever world he wallowed in… or soothe him, at the very least.

But nothing seemed to work.

__________

The two remembered the time, long before- when their games paused in the woods and the winds stood still- and shared their thoughts and vision once again. Then between their breaths the owl flew, over his head from behind, and over Daniel, who saw its face and eyes.

But When on the 9th day in (Daniel’s hand) the (image of) the owl’s eyes appeared before (and behind his eyes) (slipped deep) between his senses, something slipped.

(in the night-time)- (not) the silhouette alone

Significant shivers shot down (up?) (through) his spine

As if pulled on a cord

Owl flew overhead

We’ll never forget this

(with friend)

“You gotta crack a few eggs to make an omelette, am I right?”

An old and battered covered woman, visibly hunched though seated on the cold stone sidewalk, begs you to rub her feet.

_______

“It helps just to talk about it, at least.”

___

Again he felt his vision fall, but inside he thought he saw the essence of all eyes.

___

The child…

_________

And all around behind him doors burned bright, which yearned for taking form, to be extinguished.

“I’m tryin to get obliterated.”

The bombs fell all around her, screaming.

_

“My grandmother used to tell us that an owl was an omen-”

“Of what?” he interrupted her.

“of...Death.”

He paused, a bit uncomfortable, a little stunned.

“I’m skeptical,” he retreated, stifling the irrational fear he felt.

“It’s not necessarily (like) a linear thing…” she tried to continue. He interrupted her again.

“14 billion years, and all the owl can say is “Who?!” and he laughed and laughed. She swallowed it.

_________

“Anything new? Unusual?”

“No, except-”

“The stories, I know.”

“Yes. Children’s stories.”

“And?”

“Well, it’s funny. On a typical day he won’t remember me at all, no idea who I am or even where he is, sometimes. I have to fight him to get dressed, put his teeth in, all that stuff. And he’ll pace and pace and wait, absolutely frantic. So I point him to the notebook, and with some nudging, most days he’ll read it. And it seems to be enough. He remembers. Not everything, you know, but where he… left off, I guess. If I can get him to read an entry or two, he comes all alive. He’ll fly through them, and after a while he just starts writing. Sometimes it seems to pick up where he left off, and other times they’re fresh, just out of nowhere.”

“How do you know?”

“He shows them to me. It’s strange to have such…”

“Power.”

___________

The rush of flushing fluids cool and blue flew through him, pooled in the recesses of his form, and the cavity of his chest conformed to an impossible density.

Time slipped out of sight (now), which was soft and wider, a vast and hazy glaze, ungrounded, floating freely in the (vacant) blue and gray of scattered stardust.

As the tide colliding with the/a seaward current, he heard the humming hollow whole, (and) all music took the form before, undifferentiated, droning still, sustained, remaining.

Particles waved at him.

Feeling fire faded into apathy, a grand ambivalence - costless, static, aimless, blameless, demanding nothing.

At long last the future slipped into the past.

The peoples crossed the continents and shot off across the stars.

“Think you could drive soon? I’m starting to hallucinate..”

He slipped into the silence, fell forgotten, it seemed, by all but the immortal trees, which ate the earth with worms and churned him, tilled the dirt - recycled sunward. Leaves released, floating softly, falling faintly.

But somewhere someone walked on coals.

_______

The parted waters rushed back in. The tides aligned and the stars swung on their strings

He woke at women weeping.

“I figure once he’s gone it’s fair game.”

_______

Through glasses’ glint and window’s tint, the old man thought he saw the image of an owl, that same stolid silhouette, still as night though waiting to depart. (escaping at a _____ pace)

“No, silly. Shooting stars can’t hurt us.”

___________

“And how long do we wait here?”

“As long as it takes. Did you get your number yet?”

“Next!”

_________

In the black magic circle was the word unheard,

The wheel disturbed,

The curse recurred,

Dread debtors stirred.

Deceiver, breathe relieved!

But trust me, when he finally rolled the dice, they exploded!

Until the fire died from lack of fuel. And then the light went out.