The night the Rhymer went whack
Chapter 69

69

Only great pain can bring joy by bringing strength through its enduring,

and love through its peace.

Then Nick, after satisfying as many bellies as he could and gaining new friends and protectants, rose and wiped himself clean. My journey is to begin anew, he thought, looking back as to where his mom laid and eyeing the guard dogs he had converted to now being in charge of protecting her tomb. They barked signaling their task and Nick smiled. He placed a few extra pats on the dogs at his feet then shooed them away. It’s humans I need to make smile again, he concluded, so he set off down the road and across the bridge from whence he came. Alone, except accompanied by good faith and determination.

His rhythm was back but his direction was new. Not once could he remember doing anything good on purpose. Through experimentation, yes, but that was just for cause and effect, so when he crested the bridge and came upon a rape, a rape of a young girl no older than ten, he thought back to that young girl he watched dying and how it didn’t affect him at all and how it was more scientific than spiritual. And how she had looked content, as if wanting death, wanting it as a place to escape to, to free her from her tormented existence. And that’s the same face he now saw in this little girl. Her acceptance of her situation, no fight and no struggle. Breathing but breathless. Nick reached into his pocket and fleshed out his instrument. He licked his lips, placed his fingers where they needed to be then raised it to his mouth and hummed. Almost water-ish, a brook type melody escaped. This eased the attacker’s aggression.

Slowly, Nick hummed a little harder and with each increase the assailant relented and ultimately stopped before falling into a deep sleep. Upon seeing his unconsciousness, Nick changed his tune. He again shifted his fingers and slightly changed his expression. A pick me up he needed, so he evoked a flute like sound that made the young girl stir. She started smiling even before she opened her eyes. Still laying in a fetal position she began tapping her fingers and feet to the beat, happy and in stark contrast to the bruises and scrapes on her arms, legs and face. But joy had seeped into her heart through the gladness that Nick played.

She attempted to sit but was in great pain, so Nick stopped playing and sprung to assist, but she plopped back down. “No,” she instructed. “Please, just keep playing.” And Nick did. The strength in his music moved her arms, wiggled her legs and creased her face into a beam. A few moments later, she was fully awake dancing and swinging her arms and being a child once again. Like the dogs, her joy was evident and when she swung around, she pointed to the sun and in rhythm remarked, “See, you brought me to the light!”

This stunned Nick and he abruptly stopped playing but she didn’t care, she was once again whole and dancing off down the road. This awakened him further as he found himself thinking about the songs he had played and the turmoil they had brought, but he especially focused on his signature tune. “Can’t you see I set you free,” he whispered to himself before continuing. “I brought you to the light.”

Nick slumped back and fell to his knees full of confused emotions, dismayed at the thought of how he not only contributed to the world’s demise but how he shepherded the sheep. He enveloped himself in the moment needing to feel the agony he had caused so many. Needing to feel the pain of negativity, for he had already known what was to come. He slumped against a tree, eyes glazed and far away, remembering all the specifics, the biting dog tears, the guttural stabs, the point blank gun shots—all the horrors of his actions. The carnages at the arenas, encouraging murder, rapes and despicableness. All the stuff he did with his power of sound. He cried more and more, feeding his soul to the fullest and trying to drown away all that pain. And for good measure, he thought of his mom too, placing all the blame on himself, needing to feel utter agony, needing the depth of his pain to bring him to the height of his light. Once done, he pulled out his instrument and played.

For hours—perhaps days—he sat against that tree perfecting his vision, his sound, his notes, and once complete, he knew he was done so he rose with satisfaction.

70

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