I am a man. A man exploring the infinite possibilities of today's burning questions and topics... Or I'm a playwright and novelist who likes to write about random subjects or popular topics. Plus, it helps me at least write once in awhile, especially when writer's block sets in.
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The Circumstances of Arrival
Devoid of color, a wash of gray. A single human sporting layer upon layer of clothes. Pacing. Desolate remnants of a full life.
"Oh. Hi there. Didn't see you arrive. Have a seat. There's the rocking chair. Yes. The boulder will do.
Can I get you something to drink? To eat? I have Xanax as well. I think it's Xanax. Seems to do the trick on lonely nights.
What's that? You can't stay? Sorry to hear that. Was looking forward to some company. What can I do you for?
You want to hear it? Let me take a look at you... Hmm... Yes. You look young enough. Probably don't remember a lot, do you?
Sorry. It's a reflex. Be warned.
The broad details you've heard, I'm sure. Word of mouth likes to spread the deeds and the misgivings. It's like wildfire. Really it's how it all begin anyhow. Hatred. The approval of hatred. There was a sense of entitlement by people of power, a desire to divide and to lie, subsequently stoking these wildfires.
Oh. Superiority already existed. All sides were weakened by it. A moral superiority. A race superiority. A religious superiority. Me? I didn't care for most it. I fell in the moral superiority camp, I suppose. They entitled, they were wrong, they did this, but what did I do? Nothing. I said a few words, I gave a few dollars, but when push came to shove, I walked away.
Yes. I suppose it's a good thing I lived to tell it about. What if I had done more? I could have shoved. There's a violent streak resting in all of us. I felt it. Multiple times. Screaming at the television at actions and words deemed unfit for our great country. Yet...
It was unlocked with the advancement of social media, emboldened by a man in American who valued himself above all others. A man who lacked empathy and compassion.
Yeah. It's a trait you'd like to believe all humans carry. The idea--in one way or another--in which all people are able to find a sliver of it in their hearts to look out for one another.
It's still a dream, really. Turns out we're not all the same. Empathy and compassion are lost among many. Perhaps they never had it to begin with.
Progress was halted... Are you sure know one has told you this? I know I'm just a stop along the way and I appreciate the company, but stop me if you've heard it. No? It started slowly, a word here, an action there. The groups of those lacking grew, feeling it was their birthright. They didn't have to hide in their secret corners anymore, didn't have to cover their face. They had this idea they were the marginalized ones, the ones profiled, the ones being held back.
Multiply. Multiply. Multiply.
The attacks. The violence. The deaths.
The streets run red, the skies ashen and everyone on the run. On the run. On the run. And I've killed so many, when I had to, but mostly I run. But now I help. I collect. I yearn for the future. I pass along--What's that?
You've got to get going? That's fair. Best to stay moving.
I won't be bothered. I've got a nice little set up here. I know we're spread out in these zones, these pockets and we're all strangers, but keep resisting. People are doing fine work in sector 10, I hear, chipping away at the walls of sector 11.
You're on the way to join now? Good for you. Never stop reaching out to your friends, your neighbors, even those who are different. Lift them up, okay? Use it...
Glad you were able to pass through. Hey, if you see Michonne in Sector 7, send my best. I miss our long talks. We are all of one blood. Keep the hope of better times alive."
I am a playwright, screenwriter, novelist. My novels "The Dragon Princess" and "The Blue Gem" are both available at the Kindle store on Amazon. To learn more, be sure to visit jason-haskins.com or follow me on Twitter: @jasonrh_78
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