Let Me Show You Something: Book 1

Title: Let me show you something: Book 1

Author: Styvnn

I had been sitting there quietly as the morning sun poured through the window of just another diner in just another small run down town, eating whatever I had just ordered without much concern for my meal or my surroundings, just musing as I sipped at my empty coffee and meandering through pleasent thought. I had successfully retreated, but as I have come to learn such personal peaces are always ended.

"Let me show you something"

For a long while it was a disembodied voice, like one of my own thoughts wondering through a daydream. It was only just before I asked myself what exactly I was about to show, that I noticed a shadowed figure to the left of me.

Well, not shadowed exactly. I mean his form was darker than the air around him, but only because he was positioned before the rising sun. The light radiated around him as though his body was enclosed in some glowing halo, or if his body shimmered. It was a wholly interesting effect, one that I didn't particularly care to see without my sunglasses, however, but then again I am a pessimist.

So like I said, I had been sitting there for a blissfully long time with my cup to my lips and my mind, well, my mind was elsewhere, when, much to my dismay, this disembodied thought echoing through my mind was suddenly reconized as being foreign. As I recall, the sudden thrust of intellectual power from the more imaginative, and infinitely more fascinating portion of my mind to that smaller portion still concerned with reality could have been easily witnessed as a startled jerk. I was slightly annoyed.

He, however, was oblivious to my startle, and did not appear be aware of my jerked motion or even indeed my presence. This was very disturbing to me. How dare he invade and drag me from my preconscious wanderings even while he remained in his own! It was an ignominious affront to common dignity, and, as it is my custom to do so, I was rather determined to ignore it.

But even as I attempted to so, even as I tried to returned to my plate and to my coffee, I instead found myself transfixed on the pleasant fantastic but once again by his very unpleasant presence. His dreadful presence bored me. Even with the extrodinary effect of the rising sun, or was it setting, I must admit I do not recall, anyway even this effect lent very little to his appeal. He sat there at the same counter as I slumped forward from the very edge of his stood so that his elbows laid harshly on the counter and his hands lay stretched over the far edge. He was, as I mentioned, a dreadfully boring individual.

However, he did manage to carry my interest in at least one respect. He carried it gently in his fingers like young naive girls hold their love's flowers or better still as a woman holds their memories long after the flowers have died. It was a ring, simple by definition elegant by design and well beyond his class. It seemed to me a very stark contrast, a living breathing paradox, which, other than the ring's beauty itself, was primarily what held my attention.

"Let me show you something."

I was aware of this subconscious echo, but I did not acknowlege it. I was content to merely look at the ring as it shimmered in the light. It was beautiful.

"I bought this a long time ago, when I was still young."

Because my previous glance had announced him to be a young man of approximately my age, I did not at all like what this comment implied. Shadows added age to the figure but surely this was just and added illusion of the sun - yes it was at dusk when I saw him, I now remember because the particular expression I saw on his face was such that one could tell it apart from the hope of dawn. But of course, that is irrelevant, or at least I thought so at the time as my concearn was with that beautiful slip of a gold ring.

He said something to the effect of "I remember" as the first hint of emotion, a smile, dawned on his distant face. He paused. His head turned and looked in my direction, though not at me, and said "I used to" then stopped. Now you realize this shadowy figure bored me, surely, because I have told you, but now his stuttering half thoughts bordered on sheer irritation. They caused me to politely turn my head to him to acknowledge his speech, as it is a painful custom that all mannered men must endure, and because they prevented me from properly examining the very object that he had just invited me to witness. I came to think that this man was paradox embodied, an annoying reoccurring thought that only proved that I was being unduly drawn to the significant details of this insignificant man, which I was finding was an easy thing to do.

"I remember, as a child I would dream."

I, of course, ignored such foolishness. To know what one dreams of is truly revealing of ones character, as is to simply know that one dreams or had dreamt, and I simply did not care to know, but he insisted on telling me none the less. Nostalgia, some might call it, but choose instead to dub it foolish small minded dribble.

He continued to speak, first slowly then more quickly in the same manner as water rushes through a broken dike. As if the dam that had held back these thoughts according to the rules of social dictate were slowly eroded by the words that passed through some narrow fault, he spoke of the silliest things, childhood thoughts, theories, hopes and prayers, and spoke of them in the most curious manner. He spoke of them like they were real, as if at some point in his life he could taste the warmth of them in his mouth or feel the sweetness caressing against his skin.

His every manner and every word began to convey something to me, and I must admit I began to find him interesting, in a humorous fashion, of course. To much in the world of the unreal some might diagnose him, but to me it was just the opposite, to me he spent much to much time in the world of the real.

I myself am a proud and frequent visitor of the world of fantasy as is everyone, more so if they refuse to admit it. I do not pretend, as many might think that this is a bad thing, it is healthy of soul and spirit just to vacation there. Why nothing could be rightly done if one did not visit, a fact that I long believed but could never prove until this unhappy meeting.

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