Tonight, for whatever reason, my Earl Grey tastes better than ever (mmmm)...so obviously, I'm in a super good mood. Also, as usual, am in a time-wasting mood, and thought about this dream I'd had a couple of years ago that I've been wanting to properly write out . I had a somewhat written piece, and today the Earl Grey has made me decide to dig it out and finish it up. This first version ended up being a 'short story' of sorts, fitting for time pass reading...Vision 1The figure is bent over the gaping hole. Covered in a black cloak, ropes around its wrists. This crouched figure is motionless, as is the tall figure that watches. The twin black cloak falling to its ankles. Fingers interlocked at mid torso level.
Two patient waiting figures.
Waiting for the figures that dig.
Earth thrown out from the hole is forming a burgeoning mountain. The motionless one on the ground is lifted into the box. The lid closes and the box lowered into the hole. Earth thrown back to fill the remaining space.
******
The workers leave—their task has been fulfilled. He waits. Waits and fixes his eyes on the hole that once was. As if by piercing through the earth he can see the man that once was.
He prefers the ones that are silent. Absence of noise allows for greater sensitivity to their agony, and to his pleasure. He wonders how long the trapped air will sustain the breath of the man condemned. Perjury—a crime punishable by death—the slow, arduous death by the earth.
Not too slow, he thinks as he turns around, it will surely be over in thirty minutes.
A smile plays on his lips as he walks back. In twenty minutes he is past the mosque, the living quarters, the temple rooms, the food units. Past the iron gate that leads to the long brick building. Ten more minutes—he waits while she finishes her dinner.
And then, just as the clock strikes the tenth hour, he walks into her open arms. At the stroke of death, his world comes to life. Again.
Vision 2They sit in the balcony, surrounded by books. Volumes of all sizes and colored bindings encasing the printed words they have often shared. Sometimes criticized and other times accepted obediently.
They have gleaned much, from these pages. About the others—‘heritage’—is the word they choose to use. Gleaned more than speech could have ever communicated. And besides, why hear about Krsna or Sufi mystics from a loved one, when one can hear soft crooning instead. So they choose to teach themselves. He, when she has her duties and she, when he leaves to inspect the lands.
They sit here and play with each other. Fingers on lips, fingers on eyes, lips on eyes. They enjoy their playtime, like any two beings bound to each other should.
“So what evil act did you commit last night?” she asks, almost laughingly.
He looks into her eyes. “He has long since suffocated, my dear. Why do you ask?”
“It was the way you came to me. Every time you order a burial, you don’t take your eyes off my face until…”
“Until I see that your eyes have forgive me. Yes, I kill and I ask you to accept me again. I die with the dead and I wait for you to bring me back to life again. Is that not beautiful?” he says with the tone of one who has been through this before.
Her eyes wander to a pile of books next to her. Her thoughts to all the knowledge within them. Then, almost as if to herself, “they say felines have nine lives, I wonder how many you will have”.
And before he answers, the words come floating from her lips, “only as many as I will let you have…”
Vision 3
The learned one enters their world.
He has read more than they will ever read, he has traveled further than they will ever venture.
Now he takes his shoes off his weary feet and joins them for a meal. Cooked by the one he has always coveted. As she listens to his tales, her face lets him know that she knows. But with her hand she reaches out to the one she cherishes. Her animal, who has broken all the chains of his ideologies to become devoted—to her. That night another hole will be dug and he will, as usual, stand watch over the proceedings. He tells her to close her windows—this one might scream.
She also closes the door, pulls the curtains down.
And just as silently as the learned one entered their world, tonight he enters her.
Vision 4She is unclothed when he returns. He is happy to see her—but she retreats.
“I have had enough for one night” she says.
He drags her by the arm—she is uncomplaining, only asking for a shawl to cover herself. They burst forth into the darkness, only his blazing eyes lighting the way. She stands shivering as he digs, “I had to do it. You will have no one to forgive you tonight”.
As he pushes her into her box, she laughs, welcoming the warmth. And from three feet below, she can hear him digging away.
As it turns dawn, she can sense him lying down beside her. She is safe, enclosed by the earth.
He, unfortunately, will have to wait till morning and another throws earth over his box.
