©copyright 1999
_MW_ All Rights Reserved
All original material has been
Copyrighted and may not be published copied or duplicated in any media except by
Michael Williams holder of the copyrights.
It Just Might Be The Law.....
A person never knows what will happen or where it might lead. One day I was in a park near my home. A man sitting across
from me was an awkward looking man who happened to be scribbling in his little black book. It was a rather cool summers day
for New England, although you could not tell this by the lack of activity. The birds had ceased their chirping but were lying about
noticeably in the trees. A breeze from the south rustled through my hair as it did the green leaves.
Everywhere I looked, the trees were looming, providing shade and comfort to anyone around. The pond was reflecting the
emerald from the trees; it aqua shade providing an ample canvas. A few stray ducks were starting to flutter into the sky as dusk
began to settle. In what seemed only minutes the day had passed through me Abruptly, the man sprang to his feet and approached
me.
At that moment all the birds noiselessly fled from the trees and disappeared, replaced by crickets in the green grass. He was twice
my age but seemed to be a man older than the trees . His hair was as scraggly as his beard, both holding the same ashen color.
Yet it seemed to have an order of its own. His eyes had the shimmerimg of a vacant mind. The skin was the shade of bark but
appeared softer than down. His shirt was an unusual blue and did not match his peach colored pants. As he approached I was
caught up in my amazement of this man.
Beautiful day isn't it"
"Would you do me the pleasure..." he replied without answering the question. "... and tell me what you think of this page?"
As I read, I could feel his vacant eyes shredding through me. His passages stirred something in me only because I wondered what
he was writing about. It seemed like some sort of introduction but not for something that I could comprehend. As I turned the page
the stranger ripped the book from my hand, pushed me to the ground and ran.
After a moment I jumped to my feet and looked around, I saw that the man was replaced by chirping birds and a cool summers
breeze. I ran frantically to find the man but caught not a glimpse of him through the now crowded estate. At the bench, I sat down
and sifted through my mind what had just occurred. A feeling came over me, One that seemed to be familiar with me. Why had
he been so upset? Was it the list of names that I caught a glimpse of?
As if waking from a sleep, I looked around. In a daze I saw across from me a man dressed in green relieving himself on some
unsuspecting flowers. As I cleared my eyes, the park grew empty again. The crickets were singing and the blue and peach man
was across from me again.
He began to approach again. He handed me the book. It was opened to the same page. What follows is my recollection of the
parable ------
Have you ever seen a fish out of water? I have seen a few. What is the fish trying to do? Why.? One fish I captured floundered
around, flipping its' body over and over again. It gasped, turned violently with its' eyes open trying to understand what was
happening. A moment before searching for food, but then its' mouth is being pierced and ripped from the body while his gills are
working to sustain life. "What has changed?"
Another fish I caught laid motionless, knowing from the start that it was useless to fight. Breathing in slowly. Acting as though
there was little life left in it. Just a moment before swimming along carelessly but knowing that the day would have its way with
him. You are wondering what I did with these fish. I killed and ate the resistant fish but unhooked the other and let it find its way
back to water. I don't know if it made it to the water but that is of no consequence to those in my position - -----
That is where the page ended. Dare I try to turn the page. As I turned the page a gigantic smile broke across the man's face. I
glanced at the page then began to study it. A list of names, which by themselves bring up questions. What bothered me about the
list was the symbol beside each name. Little frown faces. Some had one, others had four. Some of the names had five, these
people had been crossed out .
One of the names I knew. He was an acquaintance of mine from school. He had been working as a journalist. I say had because
about a week ago he disappeared and turned up at the end of a rope. He had been crossed out. He had five. I glanced at my
name again, it had three.
"Why do I have three?"
The man broke out in a cackle.
"If you do not know, ,the better off you are"
With that, he took his book and left.
The next day at the park I decided to try to confront this man. He seemed too willing to answer some of my questions.
"Why am I on the list?"
"Because you want to know" he replied. Next, I inquired as too the purpose of the list. His reply was a disturbing one. It was
another parable ------
There was a man in a town much like this one. On many days he would be seen rummaging through garbage. On a certain day a
man witnessed the man's activities and was curious as to how this man could get by by going through other peoples trash.
On the second day of following the trash collector, they came upon a house that belonged to a friend of the second man. As the
man did his usual business in the garbage, second watched to see what this man would take from him. Only today the man did
something that Second had not seen before. He took from his pocket a pen and some paper and started to write. At this, he
approached his friends house . As he grew closer, the collector became frightened and started to scribble quicker. Just a few
yards from the man he witnessed him take paper from the trash and put it in his coat. Second tried to stop the man but he got
away -----Suddenly the man in blue and peach got up and left. I could hear under his breath. "Ooh you remember what
happened?"
I most certainly remember what happened, for the second man was me. My friend lived in that house. I was the one that had been
following the collector. There were a few things he left out of his story.
After I tried to capture the man I went to pay my friend a visit. I asked him why someone would be interested in his garbage and
why they would want papers he had thrown away. He could not give a sufficient reason but remembered that the only papers he
threw out were from a story he had been working on. This story was an expose on lack of privacy that the public has from the
government. He could not understand why the collector would be interested in such a thing.
The next day I went looking for the man. He could not be found in any of his usual places. I saw a few of the people he hung
around with and decided to ask them where he was. Upon approaching them they became stern and cold. They informed me that
the man I inquired about had committed suicide the night before. It appears that he couldn't do his job properly.
"What job? All he did was collect peoples garbage!"
With that question the group turned their angry faces away from me and started to walk away. I could here them mumbling and
arguing amongst each other. The speaker could be distinctly heard saying that it wasn't his fault.
This incident occurred about a year ago. It became interesting to me about a week before when my friend turned up dead. He had
just finished and was about to put to press his expose. I talked about the incident with another friend of mine. He said I was
paranoid to think there was any connection and said that I should just leave it alone. I could not. After pondering what to do for a
week, I decided to see the authorities. They were very cooperative but gave me no useful information. I left with my original
questions along with a discontent for these people. They seemed to want to get rid of me as fast as possible. They even had the
gall to start asking me questions pertaining to my relationship with my friend.
They wanted to know if I knew anything about his work. What business is it of theirs! I could stand no longer to be in their
company. As I left they said that it might be better if I let the incident go.
After a few days of avoiding the park, I decided that I had to see the man again.
"I've been waiting to see you. I knew you'd be back though. They always want to see us again."
That was his greeting? He seemed very enthusiastic at my being there. He started to talk right away.
"Have you been thinking about my stories?"
"Why would I be doing that?" I replied.
"They might help you decide what to do."
"What do you care?"
"It's interesting. Most inquiring people have a concerned reply. Most have also thought." he answered in a roundabout way.
"Have you thought about what kind of fish you are?
Have you thought of a change? It might be of interest to you to do so."
"Why do you..."
"I see you decided to stay as you are." he interrupted.
"That is most unfortunate. Most unfortunate." A troubled look came across his face. As though he had something to worry about.
"Well, I shall see you no longer. You have reached the limit and it is out of my hands."
"What's out of your hands? Did I do something wrong? I can correct it I am sure."
With that a tear came to his eyes.
"I liked you, it is too bad. Goodbye!" he said with a sense of finality.
With that he was gone. I stood alone and confused. He was wrong though, it was not goodbye. I had another chance. Now I
spend my days going through garbage. It is a rather interesting job. One can learn a lot about you. I do not know what it is, but
I must obey!
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