The Mixed Man

I sat. Beside a rock. There was light. A ray of sun touched it, the darkness and the brightness a perfect equilibrium. My Covenant with God had provided this for me, and the same for my father, my forefathers, and their forefathers. I was happy, I was content, I smiled because of my stone.

I woke and noticed my stone had been moved. I picked up the stone and my belongings: beddings composed of a raised rattan cot and soiled linen; a bagful of clothing, and writing material. There had been a hound that followedf earlier, but he, too, had grown tired of me.

It was not safe, for someone had invaded my personal space. It was a ritual, a prayer, no, a chronic obsession that this never happen. But it did. I looked upward with yellowed eyes and shaded them. I began to curse at the heavens, for they have deceived me; they have disturbed me.

Now it was dark and I fell asleep.

From where I was, I felt a missionary woman. When I stirred, she presented me a flyer. I did not read it, for it was as empty as her imprint on this Earth. When she left, I saw monks from away. Their robes signified they were holy men. They went on with their ritual. I began seeing Muslims, I saw their beards and their distinct language. I recognized the decadent people: the gamers, the addicts, the prostitutes, the goons, the killers. But most dangerous of them was the man who did nothing.

I moved on. I carried a pack of my things. I was doing nothing wrong, I am a Bedouin, and this is my desert.
The heat of the sun was now more unbearable. Once, the humidity of the city was the problem. But I have ventured far, far away. It is both shocking and amazing how far one can travel by foot if one is so determined.
I was in rocky land and was becoming quite excited. I was left to my own intents and devices now. I let down my bag, unpacked my things, and allowed grace to enter. I took frequent small sips from a container of sweetened water. I butchered and roasted small game: pigeons and quail. Here I was happy. And nobody could take this happiness from me.

The moonlit sky appeared over me as I was reveling in the coolness. It morphed into the face of a man. I turned my head onto my pillow, it was the hunger acting up. The ground shook mechanically like a phone on vibrate. I faced up, and now the face was quite angry.

I woke up in a feverish sweat. My head pulsated painfully, and the sounds of the earthquake resonated like brass in my eardrum. The Lord had connected with me in my dream. It was not only the Christian God, but all the gods. Their commands were in unison, and I must obey. This was my only choice.

At the point of daybreak, I picked up my bag and items, and ran like a madman. I then found a store and entered. I hurriedly took items and chucked them on the counter. A heavily built woman frowned at me. It was later difficult for me to shave what accumulated on my face, and my stench was equally hard to deodorize.

Now, I was a crisp man.

I took the pebble I kept in my pocket all this while. I had travelled all the way to my old home. I found it not eerie, just moldy and quiet. And quite boring. It was as I remembered it. I threw the stone at the bungalow's roofing.

I sat on the steps. I ruminated under the skies where gulls flew. It was an overcast day. I had everything I wanted, and more. I was a clean man. I was just a little confused, a little mixed up. I had good intentions, my heart was clean and I had not committed a crime.

Night came, animals were creaking and neighbors I will never meet began to return home. I should go inside to sleep, I should continue this clean-cut life, I should not spend time thinking about how I needed a talking moon to knock me out of psychosis.

But that's how life is.

The persons above held hands. Chiaroscuro, the intermarriage of light and dark. The beings proceeded to dance in him, in his brain, stirring up uneven mixtures of neurotransmitters. The miniature beings were old and young, brown and pale, thick and slight. He snored. And turned to one side.

Content.