Wrote this for creative writing. Did it in one day. Last minute thing.
I Will Lay My Divinity In A Tragedy“I have an encyclopedia of my own, that I use t keep me warm but its hard when all the pages are ripped out. I’ve been on these urban streets a year now since today is January 31st, 1988. People say the world will end in twenty years when our planet is blown up after a U.S. / Soviet Union nuclear world, ask yourself ‘why not now?’ “
As he lay in his cold room, he just imagined how life was 15 years ago when he was a child. It was at the age of seven that some of the older kids in the neighborhood were pushing him and as he hit the ground a young man told them to fuck off. This feeling of gratitude over took him.
“Are you okay?” asked the Good Samaritan.
“Yes, I just scraped my leg…” he explained in a soft voice.
“Let me take a look at that, big guy. What’s your name?” asked the young man in a voice similar to Mr. Rogers.
“William,” he replied.
“Here take one of these,” the nice man reached into his bright yellow bag full of lollipops.
The memory soon faded and the night passed into the morning hours. William’s morning started as he made his way into the grey rugged busy streets of Los Angeles, California.
William had this way if walking and talking that created an attractive persona. William was somewhere in between James Dean and Charles Bronson. He would lean against a liquor store everyday and today was no different.
Around 10:00 it was when a young man pulled up to the liquor store and peeked out of his window.
“How much?” he asked as he made a hand signal for a sexual act.
“Eighty,” replied William in a professional matter as he made his way into the car.
We may never notice the small things hidden in the background of our everyday lives, but its funny the way they seem to notice us. As the deal between William and the young man was going through, there stood a middle-aged man across the street observing William like a mother watching over her nest. His heart pounded with fear every time William would get in the car. It can almost be described as the fear parents feel when they drop their kids off at school hoping they won’t get their heads blasted off by a guy in a trench coat.
“Father Benedict!” called a local market owner at the middle-aged man.
“Why, yes these are the fruits I was looking for. Thank you very much and may the lord bless you,” replied Father Benedict.
Father Benedict was a charming man with shiny blue eyes that accompanied the gold cross he carried around his neck everywhere he went. He was entering his 14th year as a Priest at the local church where he preached every Sunday. Father Benedict was a simple man whose needs were mostly met when he would get on his knees and pray. When he would pray, he would start crying and ask for forgiveness.
It was across the street from William’s usual pick up spot that Father Benedict would watch over William. As shameful as he was about it, Father Benedict could not lie to himself. He was in love with William and fantasized about being with him forever.
As William was finishing up in the young man’s car he looked straight into his eyes and couldn’t stop this feeling he had inside. These people’s lives were his and they have given them up to him.
Father Benedict was making his way past the liquor store later that afternoon when he bumped into William and Father Benedict dropped his bible and a bag.
“I’m so sorry,” said William in a concerned voice as he bent over to retrieve Father Benedict’s bible and bag.
Father Benedict was nervous and stuttered, “Its…okay young man, what’s your name?”
“William,” answered William as he handed over the bible and bag.
At the very instant that William handed Father Benedict the bible and bag, he noticed that the bag was bright yellow and there were lollipops in it.
At the very moment that Father Benedict heard William’s name, did he look in his eyes and remember the young boy from 15 years ago.
“Why, thank you boy… I mean William. Thank you for picking up my stuff. Have a lovely day and may the lord bless you,” said Father Benedict in a nervous tone.
“No… Problem. Same to you,” replied William as he was in awe of the Father.
As Father Benedict walked away towards his church he looked up into the gray sky and as if he were talking to the sun said, “15 years ago I saw the son, Jesus Christ and today I saw God, the father.”
William left wishing he had showed the father his gratitude and regretted not saying anything in fear that he just ruined his only chance. Father Benedict knew he had another opportunity tonight at the cafe where William often socialized during the fourth evening of the week.
William was in fact there that night and Father Benedict was ready to spark a conversation. As soon as William walked in, Father Benedict approached as if it was by chance that they ran into each other again.
William was the first to speak, “Father! How strange that we meet again today. I’m pretty glad to see you.”
“Ah boy. I’m glad to see you too,” said Father Benedict as he moved the plan forward. “Would you like to take this conversation to the house of God?”
William was thrilled and enthusiastically accepted the invitation; he couldn’t wait to show Father Benedict his gratitude. Once seated in Father Benedict’s room in the church, William began to talk about the day 15 years ago when Father Benedict saved him. “It was me father, I was the boy you helped. Thank you so much,” said William as he went to hug Father Benedict.
“I know boy, I know it all William. I love you,” said Father Benedict in an affectionate voice.
William soon tried to break away from the hug, as Father Benedict held tight. “Father, I think its time for me to leave. I have to go.”
“You can’t leave… I love you. This is your home. Didn’t you hear me William, I love you…” cried Father Benedict.
“I can’t stay here, I only came to say thanks.” William tried to break free but couldn’t until he pushed Father Benedict and punched him.
Father Benedict began crying but attempted to keep William by chasing him and calling William’s name.
As William ran out the church into the cold rainy night, Father Benedict fell on his knees in the front of the church and yelled, “William, come back! This is the house of God; this is the house of God! You are God! This is your home! William! This is the house of God…”
Father Benedict made his way to the wine and sat in the chair he sat on every Sunday during mass. He poured the wine all over his mouth as it spilled on him and the floor. He began to mutter in misery as he pulled a dagger to his neck.
William made his way to his home as he calmed down he looked out the window into the gray night sky that hung over the city. Pollution and city lights eclipsed the moon and stars but tonight they were clear even if it was just William’s imagination. He lay on his bed silently as lonely as the city. An encyclopedia lay on the floor of his mind and he knew he had to bind the pages together.
Father Benedict’s flesh hung out of his neck greeting the wine that had spilled. His last words were, “Deity was a fantasy, and God was here but left me sitting in my own reliquary. Heaven’s spew its wine at me and now I prepare to dine.”
