Folded Thought of the Day:

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Memoirs of a Forgotten Man
... A Momentary Lapse


The train continues its journey through the night, its rhythm 
providing a steady score for the wandering thoughts of a 
forgotten man.

In his mind he sees the storyteller come awake, as if out of a 
trance.  The final story told, at least for this session.  Well, 
not so much told as reported back -- part of the storyteller's 
art, a mind-space transcendence, into the story, an immersion that 
rides a razor's edge between complete and intractable, allowing 
a complete and honest recounting of events but making it quite 
the challenge to discern between realities.  A dangerous gig.  

He sees the attendant faces from the night before.  He is 
drifting apart... watching the storyteller's shifting focus.

Leaning forward now, whispering a phrase into your ear -- a 
treaty between the two of you... an exchange.  No free rides 
tonight, palming the ticket and making your peace.  Yes, he 
knows your destination and has an interest in obtaining certain 
information.  Not a bad price.  After all, he's got responsibilities, 
stock in the local market, mouths to feed, debts to carry out.  
And any changes in the system are going to have direct consequences. 
You dig?... Changes...  what kind of changes are we talking about?

That's your territory buddy, paid in full promissory notes... now 
step this way, the both of you, behind this curtain.  Of course, 
she's been here before, she's been here from the beginning, 
waiting for her savior, on her knees praying, over and over.  Do 
not judge too harshly.  All of our sins are emanating through the 
land, beneath the marquee lights, out along the lines of discretion, 
diving terms for our renewal... step inside, so that you may take 
on the form, holy wanderer, wayward disciple, reach out, allow the 
touch... go forth and bring back word.

Something in those eyes you'd better not take too lightly.  Out 
among these ruins, in these times.  Still, you can't help but 
wonder how serious they were really taking things, with all that 
laughter going on in the background.  

Funny... at what point did you notice the marking on the 
storyteller's arm?  And when did you realize that it wasn't 
there to begin with?  

-- Oh yeah, it comes and goes.  A birthmark, part of the ritual, 
we've all got 'em.

Which we?  More of that laughter.  And that tattoo won't make 
up its mind -- sure looked like a tree a second ago, now you'd 
swear that sucker's a windmill, and now a balloon.  

-- Sure it changes with every flex.  Why?  You're not trying 
to muscle in on anything are you?

Gee, this guy's a riot waiting to happen, even little miss 
bait-and-switch is getting a kick out of this.  Time for a 
little evasive maneuvering.

Walking away slowly, making promises of a return, that you 
know you'll be keeping.

                          ...

-- We'll be making a momentary stop before we reach the 
station.  You might want to gather your belongings.  It 
shouldn't be long now.

... the conductor's voice breaks the spell.  

He is approaching his destination, unaware that he will 
soon be arrested.  He has committed no crime.  

In the distance, he can make out a bell tower -- dormant in its 
decay, spires rising through the mist, asking not to be believed, 
but suggesting a memory of some better time, of all our lives.  
Nothing specific, a basic nostalgic trip down some over-grown 
path -- the one he used to run down... chasing, being chased, 
searching out nothing but that next moment, that came and 
went.  Skinning flesh... wounds that never healed right, those 
scars now leading him back to that perfect feeling, just before 
he tripped up... fell down... found himself looking up to a future 
he never asked to be part of.  Remembering the witch in the candied 
cottage, those spells she cast, beautiful incantations transporting 
a normal afternoon into the time of your life... making him wonder 
what was evil, who was really out to get him back then?... who was 
doing their best to lay their claim?... someone who always stood 
just beyond the periphery of vision, some shadow in the trees, 
watching over, making sure he fell at the right time, so he could 
know the feeling of ecstasy and pain... linked forever.


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