Diabolic Fiction

American Empire

A Parable

A boy stood at the edge of a great maw in green. The twilight shadows made it seem as if the jungle were opening and closing its mouth... breathing... tasting the boy's scent.
Somewhere in the tangled dark was his father.
He stepped from the low, brown earth and into the ancient forest, following a thin path of soft ground. It wound its way through the twisted vines... the dripping leaves... the sad light filtering quietly through the canopy.
The boy looked down and saw a cookie. He picked it up and ate it slowly, never taking his eyes off the path. A little while later he came upon another morsel and every few minutes he found more.

As night fell upon the jungle, the boy walked into a clearing, the center of which was occupied by a white tent. A gold cross was sewn onto the flap. This soon parted to reveal a very large man who reminded him of Robin Hood’s friend, Friar Tuck. The man spoke to him in a very low voice that rumbled in his bones.
"Hello, young master. What have you got there?"
"I have a cookie."
"A cookie? Oh sweet Lord, no. My cookies."
"I didn't know they were yours."
"The trail...didn't you see? I was leaving a path back to the edge. Now I am lost."
"But the path is still there."
The boy looked back and watched as the vines crawled over the bare earth.
"You see, young master, there is no path. Jehovah himself couldn't find his way back now."
"I'm sorry, sir. I am trying to find my father. Have you seen him?"
"I saw two men walk through here a day ago. They looked very determined."
"One may be my father."
"Then the answer is yes, I have seen him."
The monk returned to his tent.
The boy walked across the clearing and saw another path.
There were no cookies this time, only a clear, green walkway.
The leaves felt cool underneath his feet...in between his toes.

The boy came upon another clearing. Inside sat a native man suspended by air over a bonfire. He was mumbling to himself.
The boy was warmed by the blaze and sat down. "Hello."
The native man looked at the boy. "Can you help me down?"
"I don't think so."
"Then I can't help you."
"Well, what can I do?"
"Just wish for me to be down."
The boy closed his eyes. He pictured the native man slowly lowering into the fire.
"I am burning now."
"You said you wanted down?"
"You are right. And a wish is a wish."
The native man disappeared in a cloud of ashes.
The boy watched as a path opened.

This time the path darkened. It also did not appear as if a clearing was at hand. The boy sat down and dreamed about his father.
The scenes were murky but the boy recognized each one from memory. He saw himself being pulled from the deadly waters of his backyard pond. He saw his father and the dark man arguing. He saw the black gun his father kept in the closet. He swore if ever the dark man came back, he would shoot him dead.
The vines suddenly parted to reveal another clearing. In the center stood his father and the dark man. They seemed frozen in time, both at each other’s throat.
The boy walked around them.
He touched his father and the two men came to life. They stopped and looked at the boy.
“Son?”
“Father.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I was looking for you.”
“You have come a long way to see me die.”
The boy had nothing to say.
The dark man stabbed his father with a knife.
“Goodbye, son.”
His father sank into the earth.
The dark man retreated into the shadows and disappeared.
The monk appeared. He took the boy by the hand and led him out of the clearing.
“I will lead you back. You have come a long way…”
“…just to see my father die.”
“He is not dead. He is on the other side of all this green.”
“I will see him?”
“Oh yes. Of course. Why not?”
“I saw him die.”
“What you see and what you want are two different things.”
“I want him alive.”
“And so he is.”

And so he was…