Author Topic: Doubting Stanger  (Read 119 times)

Offline Contrapasso

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Doubting Stanger
« on: March 03, 2019, 10:31:13 PM »
   There was once a man named Simon Trudeau who, like the precious minerals, lying undisturbed deep in the earth’s mantle—similarly, walked the earth, unperturbed and overtrodden.

   A simple man, who always desired to father children and, who had recently, taken an unusual occupation in collecting wild bird seeds, coffee granules, and the caps of wild mushrooms into the pouches of his pockets; in order, that he might grow and produce mushroom fruit—and so love, carry, and tender them as his own.

   And, since Simon slept, lazily and openly, in the parkways and undergrubs beneath the stars, he was at times, approached by those who either assailed him with verbal or physical blows or much worse - those who sought to solicit him advice.

   “Our Lady of Dolours.” Said a pale wiry-framed stranger, who accosted him thus through the foliage, by way of introduction. “My friend, they’ll feed you, and offer you guidance. It’s not right to be alone.”

   “Thank you, friend.” Said Simon, collecting and brushing himself off, for he was laying on a dirt patch by the river, basking happily in the sun. “I go there often. I would today, or tomorrow—"

   “They’ll give you soup and bread,” said the stranger, grasping a branchlet and inspecting its pines. “Good soup. But they’ll ask that you pray. Are you a Christian man?”

   “Yes, they will make me pray….” Said Simon, now standing before the man, who was a good head shorter than he.

   The Samaritan reflected a moment, his clear blue eyes, cut across by branching shadows. “Do you know your Lord’s Prayer?” He asked. “You must know the Lord’s Prayer, or else you shall make a fool of yourself at Lady’s—look, what’s this in your pocket, dirt?” 

   “Not dirt.” Said Simon, seizing his hand, and looking frankly upon him.

   “Ah! But it is dirt!” said the stranger Samaritan, hooking his hand within his pocket and away; triumphantly, casting the substrate to the wind. “Well, it won’t do. Let me look at you, now—let me take a good look on you…”
   
   Blood gushed forth from the pocket and lay spoiled on the ground, as Simon screamed, falling to his knees. And the stranger, doubting what he saw, thrust his hand again into the pocket. Blood now poured like a gullet from the wound. And the stranger, holding Simon’s head, pulled him uphill and, trying desperately to relieve him of his jacket, beheld Simon’s body dissolve before him, as a trail of mushrooms sprouted suddenly on his remains.

   The stranger stood, and weeping, walked surrendered into the rushing river below.
« Last Edit: March 05, 2019, 10:42:21 PM by Contrapasso »

Online heartsongjt

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  • A/K/A Jan (Sanford) Tetstone
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Re: Doubting Stanger
« Reply #1 on: March 04, 2019, 11:22:48 AM »
Well written. Thank you for sharing 'Doubting Stranger.'     Jan
Words are Weapons of Demons and Saints

Offline Contrapasso

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Re: Doubting Stanger
« Reply #2 on: March 04, 2019, 10:14:03 PM »
Thank you Jan.

These vignettes are like exorcisms, they're not serious.
This one was put Apostle Thomas to bed and out of mind (for a while at least).
« Last Edit: March 04, 2019, 10:44:52 PM by Contrapasso »

Online heartsongjt

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Re: Doubting Stanger
« Reply #3 on: March 05, 2019, 12:36:03 AM »
Thank you Jan.

These vignettes are like exorcisms, they're not serious.
This one was put Apostle Thomas to bed and out of mind (for a while at least).

You Welcome, Contrapasso. I learn much from reading your writings.

Jan

Words are Weapons of Demons and Saints