Tuesday, November 12, 2013

Displaced Myth

Hank was a distraught war vet, down on his luck with nothing going for him. One night at local bar he met Damian. A charming young, well dressed, and educated man sat next to him ordering a Hank and coke, double and neat, same as his. They began talking, the normal small chat at first, then about origin stories, then about the ups and downs of life. After heavy drinks and equally heavy words Damian invited Hank to a small restaurant just around the corner, with stakes so good that if Hank didn't cry upon the first bight Damian would pay for him meal.
                Hank kindly thanks his acquaintance for the offer and the company, insisting that it was late and he must be off. Damian pressed on, continually insisting that his new friend join him. After continual pressing from Damian, Hank left in anger. Hank roamed around the town for some time in a half drunken stupor, eventually settling on a water bed, cardboard heavy from the early afternoon rain. Damian walked up not a second after his eyes fell. “Do you want a real bed?” After a painful silence filled with the pride of not wanting to accept a strangers help, Damian said, “Come with me.”
                Damian took Hank to a small desolate ninth floor apartment. The place wasn’t worthy of housing such a successful man as Damian. Damian explained that he rarely used this apartment but it tended to gather some dust due to the almost complete abandonment. He asked Hank to need it clean for him on the off chance that he ever needed to bring someone by and that if he stayed there and kept it clean he would pay him handsomely. Hank, feeling like he had no other option, agreed to this rather outlandish deal. Without a word, Damian left the apartment.
                Looking around Hank found that the apartment was nothing more than a small room; a bed, stove, bookshelf with two books, small fireplace, but no shower or sink to even wash his face. If Hank didn’t know better he would have guessed he had gone back in time to a small fifteenth century cottage, except for one small piece of discarded wood in the corner, a stretched and worn violin. He did what he could to keep it clean and tired to keep the fire going. After a couple months Damian returned, by himself, not saying a word to Hank. He simply game a nod of approval and left. Several months later Damian returned again to a spotless apartment and a mangled thing. Due to the lack of any way to clean himself Hank had become something that could only be called a shadow of a human being. His hair was long and disheveled and his beard matched. Damian gave him a suitcase, few cloths for his back, and sent him on his way. Hank wanted to protest and demand his payment, but Damian was gone before he could take a breath.
                Hank left the building and proceeded to the nearest hotel he could find. On his way Hank opened the suitcase, put on a jacket but to his surprise he found money hidden beneath his cloths. More than he could possibly count in the street. When he got to the hotel the owner tired to drive him away, but when he pulled out a stack of hundred dollar bills the owner quickly changed his mind. Too tired to clean himself Hank instantly fell asleep. When Hank awoke he found that someone broke into his room and stole all the money Damian had given him. Hank went to the front desk, but helpful was the antithesis of what the owner was when he explained the break in. More desolate than ever Hank left the hotel.
                As he was walking Hank found a small piece of paper in the jacket pocket, seven numbers with a hyphen between the third and fourth numbers. Hank found the nearest pay phone; before the first ring ended he heard Damian’s voice on the other line. Hank explained what had happened, “I’ll be there in five,” is all Damian said. When Damian arrived he took one look at Hank and took him to a salon (a salon he owned) and they gave him the royal treatment, after a few hours of pampering Hank didn’t even recognize the face looking back at him. Damian walked in to the salon with the battered suitcase in hand. He gave it to Hank, they shook hands, and said good buy.
                Hank moved on, using the money to rent a small apartment and to buy a used violin, a small token of the time he spent with Damian. He would pass the time by playing his violin on street corners and in the park. Until one day a prominent Wall Street banker heard him playing while he walked through the park. He was so impressed by his talent that he gave Hank his card and told him he was hosting a gala in a few weeks and would like to have him as entertainment. Hank graciously accepted the offer and soon found himself in the room with some of the most powerful men and women in the county.
                As the night began to wind down and Hank had stopped playing for the night, while he socialized with the guests, he found himself involuntarily gazing upon a beautiful women across the bar. The man who invited him called over his daughter and the women he was gazing upon began to walk over. They were introduced and instantly began falling in love. In what felt like a day they were married, and Hank was learning how to take up the business for when his father in-law would step down.
The End


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