in celebration of all those wonderful people who have followed me. Here is chapter 2
Our Brother Discontent
It was long ago, he thought to himself, when he had believed in superstitions. He went to have his fortune told.
“You are leaving your home.” The teller said with her back turned to him.
He shrugged. Anyone could have known that.
“You will bring me death.” The woman’s pale face turned to him.
“I doubt that. I don’t hurt women.”
“When you give death you hurt mothers, daughters and lovers.”
“That isn’t what I mean.”
“But it is what will happen.”
“Do you do fortune telling here? Or did I come here to learn me some morals?” he said cockily.
The eyes of the woman blazed at him. “You are ignorant of the spirit.”
He laughed “Woman! I came in the flesh! I have no need of spirit!”
The woman shuffled her Tarot cards. “If you want nothing of spirit. Then you look for an idol to give you meaning. Pick one.”
He did pick one. He did not care which. He only cared to be seen as confident in his choice.
The long fingers turned the card out face down and covered it with her hands. “It isn’t too late.”
“Too late for what?” he said.
“To not know.”
“But I came to know.” said the man.
“Knowing is its own curse.”
“Not knowing is a curse on its own.”
“That is only because it won’t seem like your fault when it happens.”
“I am not convinced of you. Any more than a preacher. All words.”
“Then why come to me? If words are powerless?”
“Mindless vibrations that only mean anything because we agree to their meanings.”
“Or they mean what they mean because they shake with the original intent of God.”
They glared at each other for a moment.
“Show me the card.”
The woman went to turn over the card. The man reached for it and it spun and lay sideways to both of them.
“What the hell is this?”
“Nothing is ever as simple as it looks.” The woman looked at it pensively.
“Then what is it?”
“The card is called The Knight of Pentacles.”
Of the ghosts that walked the earth there was one named Avery. He was not dead yet. But he was largely unaware, as ghosts seem to be, that everyone else was also a ghost walking.
Avery walked out of the front of his house. He dismissed the affectionate farewell of his mother with silence. Kicking up the dust as he walked. He was enjoying the cascade and haze as it caught in the sun beyond his shadow. His path led to the crossroads. That was where he meant originally to meet Malcolm. But once he consulted his watch, as he wound it, he knew that he was going to be significantly earlier than Malcolm was likely going to be done with his chores. So he crossed the field to the East. Where at the North Eastern corner the outcropping of rock stood where only the tops of cactus was visible beyond the sunbaked hulk.
What was on his mind? It was, much of a mind like Malcolm’s: set on adventure. Desirous for the opportunity to explore and discover. His mind was electric with the possibilities. It was going to be dangerous, that was a great lure, to be a man who survives. Not to be just a man who can survive but to be known for it. And for a second a nobody steers a tribe with the acclaim of his grit.
Why would anyone want to be known? For the same reason as anything else. To be held in esteem. To have a value that was not his own imagining. He had no great achievement in mind. But he knew he wanted to achieve something great.
He could see a spotted cow edging slowly toward the corn field. So he knew his cousin was there. That was her job in the afternoons. But she was not there with her stick. So he naturally drifted further East. He did this for two reasons. First he could steer the cow away from the Delrio lowfield. Second, it would give him the perfect opportunity to surprise Malcolm from behind the corn rows when he eventually ventured down the road to their meeting spot. And so he calmly made his move.
Then there was Malcolm. Walking down the road. He passed the corner of the field. It was too late. Avery almost tried to wave. He thought for a second that Malcolm had seen him. But only the cow took another brazen step toward the corn. Avery froze. And unexpectedly Malcolm went up the rock.
For what? But as his eyes caught view of the girl standing pert and at an angle toward Malcolm. He realized that Malcolm had gone up to greet his cousin. That is. Avery’s cousin. Malcolm was from a different family altogether. Heteira was the settling name. But now under that umbrella were the Delrios. Avery was a Gennaedario. And the girl was Pleon.
Avery couldn’t hear anything. And he watched as they embraced again. And Malcolm walked down the far side of the rock. Then he saw her draw herself up, to a high poise and he saw the strap fall loose. Malcolm’s face spoke of the beauty that moved rocks and trees. But the view from behind the girl afforded him no view of her exposure. But the gesture told him everything. Her body held tense. She was a statue for a moment. Completely without pride but if beauty herself had seen her poise she would have been proud to not exist alone. He watched as she ran flushed with the blood of life and then dashed off to intercept her cow from getting into the neighboring cornfield.
He felt something move inside him. The ghost in him contorted at the witness of life: Cold and warm. Something just happened but Avery could not explain to himself what he felt. And it was almost as if he could not remember what his eyes had just seen. No he saw. He felt he should be upset. But he felt something he had felt many times before. But never before now so strongly.
There was something very wantable. To be shown beauty. Given it. But something soured in him knowing that it was not for him.
He himself woke to the clang of the cow’s bell as if the absence of the sound had held them all, maybe the world, spellbound. And released from this temporal ceasation of time he returned to himself with the thought that he must not show that he had seen anything at all. He didn’t know how he could acknowledge it. But then how was he to explain his standing in the middle of the field? Anyone would think he was spying. Because he simply had spied them. He just hadn’t intended to. To cover his...
It was long ago, he thought to himself, when he had believed in superstitions. He went to have his fortune told.
“You are leaving your home.” The teller said with her back turned to him.
He shrugged. Anyone could have known that.
“You will bring me death.” The woman’s pale face turned to him.
“I doubt that. I don’t hurt women.”
“When you give death you hurt mothers, daughters and lovers.”
“That isn’t what I mean.”
“But it is what will happen.”
“Do you do fortune telling here? Or did I come here to learn me some morals?” he said cockily.
The eyes of the woman blazed at him. “You are ignorant of the spirit.”
He laughed “Woman! I came in the flesh! I have no need of spirit!”
The woman shuffled her Tarot cards. “If you want nothing of spirit. Then you look for an idol to give you meaning. Pick one.”
He did pick one. He did not care which. He only cared to be seen as confident in his choice.
The long fingers turned the card out face down and covered it with her hands. “It isn’t too late.”
“Too late for what?” he said.
“To not know.”
“But I came to know.” said the man.
“Knowing is its own curse.”
“Not knowing is a curse on its own.”
“That is only because it won’t seem like your fault when it happens.”
“I am not convinced of you. Any more than a preacher. All words.”
“Then why come to me? If words are powerless?”
“Mindless vibrations that only mean anything because we agree to their meanings.”
“Or they mean what they mean because they shake with the original intent of God.”
They glared at each other for a moment.
“Show me the card.”
The woman went to turn over the card. The man reached for it and it spun and lay sideways to both of them.
“What the hell is this?”
“Nothing is ever as simple as it looks.” The woman looked at it pensively.
“Then what is it?”
“The card is called The Knight of Pentacles.”
Of the ghosts that walked the earth there was one named Avery. He was not dead yet. But he was largely unaware, as ghosts seem to be, that everyone else was also a ghost walking.
Avery walked out of the front of his house. He dismissed the affectionate farewell of his mother with silence. Kicking up the dust as he walked. He was enjoying the cascade and haze as it caught in the sun beyond his shadow. His path led to the crossroads. That was where he meant originally to meet Malcolm. But once he consulted his watch, as he wound it, he knew that he was going to be significantly earlier than Malcolm was likely going to be done with his chores. So he crossed the field to the East. Where at the North Eastern corner the outcropping of rock stood where only the tops of cactus was visible beyond the sunbaked hulk.
What was on his mind? It was, much of a mind like Malcolm’s: set on adventure. Desirous for the opportunity to explore and discover. His mind was electric with the possibilities. It was going to be dangerous, that was a great lure, to be a man who survives. Not to be just a man who can survive but to be known for it. And for a second a nobody steers a tribe with the acclaim of his grit.
Why would anyone want to be known? For the same reason as anything else. To be held in esteem. To have a value that was not his own imagining. He had no great achievement in mind. But he knew he wanted to achieve something great.
He could see a spotted cow edging slowly toward the corn field. So he knew his cousin was there. That was her job in the afternoons. But she was not there with her stick. So he naturally drifted further East. He did this for two reasons. First he could steer the cow away from the Delrio lowfield. Second, it would give him the perfect opportunity to surprise Malcolm from behind the corn rows when he eventually ventured down the road to their meeting spot. And so he calmly made his move.
Then there was Malcolm. Walking down the road. He passed the corner of the field. It was too late. Avery almost tried to wave. He thought for a second that Malcolm had seen him. But only the cow took another brazen step toward the corn. Avery froze. And unexpectedly Malcolm went up the rock.
For what? But as his eyes caught view of the girl standing pert and at an angle toward Malcolm. He realized that Malcolm had gone up to greet his cousin. That is. Avery’s cousin. Malcolm was from a different family altogether. Heteira was the settling name. But now under that umbrella were the Delrios. Avery was a Gennaedario. And the girl was Pleon.
Avery couldn’t hear anything. And he watched as they embraced again. And Malcolm walked down the far side of the rock. Then he saw her draw herself up, to a high poise and he saw the strap fall loose. Malcolm’s face spoke of the beauty that moved rocks and trees. But the view from behind the girl afforded him no view of her exposure. But the gesture told him everything. Her body held tense. She was a statue for a moment. Completely without pride but if beauty herself had seen her poise she would have been proud to not exist alone. He watched as she ran flushed with the blood of life and then dashed off to intercept her cow from getting into the neighboring cornfield.
He felt something move inside him. The ghost in him contorted at the witness of life: Cold and warm. Something just happened but Avery could not explain to himself what he felt. And it was almost as if he could not remember what his eyes had just seen. No he saw. He felt he should be upset. But he felt something he had felt many times before. But never before now so strongly.
There was something very wantable. To be shown beauty. Given it. But something soured in him knowing that it was not for him.
He himself woke to the clang of the cow’s bell as if the absence of the sound had held them all, maybe the world, spellbound. And released from this temporal ceasation of time he returned to himself with the thought that he must not show that he had seen anything at all. He didn’t know how he could acknowledge it. But then how was he to explain his standing in the middle of the field? Anyone would think he was spying. Because he simply had spied them. He just hadn’t intended to. To cover his...