On a Friday morning, at the end of a long string of insipid, indentical, irremediable Fridays, Harvey woke to an urgent knock, knock, knock on his bedroom door. He sat up, slipped his legs over the edge of the bed, orienting himself. There was the urgent knock, knock, knock again. Harvey didn’t move, couldn’t move, his head was pounding. He could hear loud music, incessant chatter, drumlike banter, sports, sports sports and the piercing of hollow laughter muffled and thundering from the rest of the apartment. A third set of urgent knocks and Harvey heard a strong voice call out from beyond the door. Harvey are you in there? Yes, croaked Harvey, louder than he thought he could muster. Are you the rightful owner of this apartment? I am, Harvey declared with a capital A in his voice and got up on his feet. Your residence has been infested with boarders. Tenants not on the original lease are not allowed to occupy the space. A copy of the lease slipped under the door. Harvey read the contract through foggy eyes, noted his signature at the bottom. We have initiated a building upgrade; all tenants are to take back their space of residence or quit the premises. Let this serve as notification: You have thirty days to upgrade or vacate. The choice is yours. The Landlords departed. As they left, the halo of silence they had created began to dissipate and Harvey’s head throbbed from the incesssant noise pushing through the walls, enveloping him. Reading the document, he remembered how eager he had been to sign on. The two bedroom apartment with eat in kitchen, two large closets, huge living room felt right from the moment he stepped foot inside, an oasis in a city that never slept which would explain the dark circles. All visitors agreed: This apartment at that price was a miracle.
Since the original signing he had let people into his home that he shouldn’t have, he wasn’t selective enough, too trusting. There was the oppressive girlfriend, the relative that broke everything and wouldn’t leave, the string of fluttering loves that left behind the smoke of hollow affection. There were the subletters and roommates, everything and any one that Harvey never wanted in his apartment in the first place. Over time the caucophony of noise and personalities infested the place, traversing the sea of subterfuge grew exhausting, impossible so Harvey was sequestered to his room. He holed up in the bedroom, set up a separate phone line, became a virtual employee working from a home that was not a home. His own room was clean and ordered but he shuddered to think what the home he once doted on had become. Harvey no longer left the room. He got sunlight and air by opening the skylight and sticking his head out. But the din of smoke and alchohol, the smell of broken voices wafted out and enveloped the space in a dense aura. If the occupants saw Harvey was up they came banging on the door; Hey Harvey come on out n’ play, have a drink with us, let’s partayy! He never accepted so finally they left him alone, kicking the door almost off its hinges; they didn’t like rejection. The following day he reinforced the hinges and placed a lock on the door. Then he turned the lights down low and kept real quiet so as to appear asleep or not present. In time, he became both.
So it was that the Landlords found him on that fateful day of announcement, waking him out of a perpetual slumber that offered no rest; Harvey slept in lurches, dreamt in burps, breathed in gulps.
Now that Harvey was wide awake the pounding in his head, the jagged buzzing in his ears grew louder, he felt the deafening ache in his bones, heavy with solipsistic sleep, numb until now to all life. Harvey gave a good long hard stretch leaving any feline within range jealous, felt the life surge up from his toes through his core into his eyes and finger tips. He wiped the sleep from his eyes, brushed his teeth and got dressed.
He wore a broken in cotton jersey with his best genes, reinforced at the knees, not too baggy as to snag, not too tight as to constrict movement, these genes were divine. He buckled on his thickest soled boots to keep him grounded, chose his leather jacket with padding at the shoulders and elbows and zipped it closed across his chest. He made sure everything was sealed off, checked himself again, took one deep breath of a pocket of fresh air and unlocked the door. At the sound of the bolt movement the tenants gasped. He’s coming out? We haven’t seen him in ages. He hasn’t been awake in ages. Why now? This can’t be good. I thought we had him locked away!
Harvey stepped out and closed the door behind him. Noise spread in waves, operated on different levels. From within the apartment the hissing radiator, the bang bang banging of pipes, bull foot steps from the ceiling, barking dogs from next door, vacuum cleaners grinding, the monotone drone of sportscasters, newscasters, podcasts and the staccato of machine gun fire, the blood screams of death, hammers pounding, drills drilling. From outside car alarms, bumping, pounding stereo music, leaf blowers, barking raging dogs, garbage trucks chewing squeaking backing up, the beep-beep-beep crackling static of Where You At?
Upon his first step Harvey was accosted by an effusion of handshakes and shoulder slaps, bright big smiles, white teeth, the fluttering of eyelashes, kisses on the cheek. Oh my god, you look great! Cheers, high fives, chest bumps, fist bumps. Pump, pump, pump it up!!! Serving him complimentary dialogue, their conversation was politically correct politely deflective more than slightly defective, their compliments would cost him effective immediately. Their self expression consisted of accepted sitcom idioms, rented .com jingles, commercial hit singles, Are you idi…umm. Harvey wanted to say but he remained quiet, recognizing them as wolves in beeped clothing. Hey Harvey, have a Harvey Wall Banger. Get it? Wink Wink, we insist, on us.!! They placed a cocktail glass in his right hand, a beer in his left. He made it as far as the dining area placed the beverages on the table and scanned the apartment. From the kitchen the snort, snort, snort of diet-coke addled laughter, fluorescent light suffused idle banter. For breakfast the crunch, crunch, crunch of me, me, me, the snap, crackle, pop of Cheery No’s, Nuttin’ Honeyed About This Life Cereal. For lunch nothing but alphabet soup for alpha dudes and and alpha chics, each wanted to be the strongest in the room. Yo dude, what up! Wait up, is that that soul dude? They caught glimpses of Harvey but didn’t understand, couldn’t comprehend, couldn’t fathom the depths of the soul. With a shrug they turned away chugged from six pack abs, rippling tides of man, lapped at languid midriff pools, languishing in the lagoon of woman. Harvey found male and female lacked the feminine, then he remembered the goddess. Nevertheless, from the other bedroom operatic throes of video porn for hire. The yes, yes, yes but no all trying to fill the hole that was rent when the soul went missing. Throughout the apartment addictions skittered just out of reach, OCD infections, obsessions with their particular inflections, ADD which never added up plus they couldn’t spell and couldn’t tell and wouldn’t tell a living soul even if they knew one that nothing filled the hole that was rent while the soul was asleep. The living room walls held three 40" plasma screens. Each. Broadcasting football, basketball, baseball games simultaneously, the walls thundered from the fully activated surround system. Grand Theft Auto, Transformers, Crank, Christmas with the Cranks, played in 5.1 Dolby digital Surround with Mega Bass. crank crank crank it up!!! The air was filled with the musk of cigarettes and the acrid smell of alchohol, the floor solid with broken glass, bottle caps, cigarette butts. Here Harvey the soul, man don’t forget your Harvey Wall Banger, there you go, man. They refreshed his drink, which he hadn’t touched and refused once more. Hey man, what gives? You don’t want us to think you’re not cool right? You don’t want to have to apologize, right? So do what’s right and let’s get this party started right. They pumped their fists in the air; The roof! The roof! The roof of our mouths is on fire! We don’t need no vitamin infused electrolyte water let the mutha burn! Burn mutha bu Harvey reached out and snapped two necks with his hand, the necks hung like chicken gizzards limp in his hand. A great gasp went through the place. He weaved through the crowd, found a grabage bag and placed the two tenants with their broken chicken neck gizzards dangling into a garbage bag and threw them down the incinerator. Tumbling down the chute, the fractured necks cried out, This was not a pre-existing condition! Harvey returned to the apartment and went to the closet, where he found skeleton bones and secrets hiding. He grabbed them all and stuffed them into a trash bag, knotting the top. Hey what are you doing? Cried the skeleton bones, Where are you going with this? Argued the secrets. What will you be without your skeletons and secrets? Rattled the bones from the garbage bags, feeling his determined steps, We’ll spill! We’ll spill! They warned, We’ll spill the secrets! Till you cry in shame and it rains guilt. We’ll spill! We’ll spill! They clattered with a muffled chorus from the secrets as he escorted them to the incinerator. When he returned, the occupants had gotten wind of his clean up act and stood against him. Cigarettes were put out, somewhere far off an overproduced, over bassed download was cancelled. The occupants saw the look of determination in Harvey’s eyes, when the soul came out with purpose it spelled trouble for them; the Prime Time Life was up. He took a step forward, they took a step back, fixed on the eternal eyes, the indestructible essence, realizing They were going to need all of Them if They were going to keep control of the home. They took a step forward, he took a step back, the sheer number of them was daunting. Harvey was to lunge on the mass of occupants when someone placed an envelope in his hand; a credit card offering 0% financing on all balance transfers for a limited time. In his other hand was placed another envelope, offereing lower car insurance rates. He tore up the envelopes. They gave him a power bar, he refused it. A post card coupon. They rolled up their sleeves. Ok, Harvey no more Mr. Nice Guys n’ Gals. We wanted to be pals but now we’re going to throw down. You. Literally, if you don’t go back to your room and back to sleep and let us get back to our good old fashioned hoe down. He didn’t move. Ok, hold him down. They pounced all at once pinning his arms, hands, legs. Hott chics threatened with eye gouging high heels, hott guys approached with blue eyes blazing, brimming zest appeal, You’re a (BEEP) now squeal! They flipped him over as a filet of sole on a barbecue grill, No fat remove the skin or we’ll scream! Screamed the girls. They were going to skin him alive from top to bottom, just like in that movie.
He heard the cold snap of a blade behind him, pressed to his throat. His thoughts raced to the Landlords’ words. ‘You are the rightful owner of the apartment.’ his signature on the contract, the original agreement to be sovereign of his dwelling. The rightful owner, the rightful owner, the rightful owner echoed, leading him through the maze of sounds to the core of himself and there he remembered. I am the lightful owner of this dwelling. Harvey spoke for the first time in a long time. Look Who’s Talking! They cheered, Is on at eight. Delightful!!! they shrieked. Then sliced his throat fom ear to ear, anything to silence the soul. They ran to the kitchen turned their conventional ovens full on, ran to the living room with their popped confections, sizzling heads twizzled. Ha! The prime time life is still on!!! Harvey rose to his knees then to his feet, teetering. One by one, he removed the occupants to the trash. Careful now before you regress. They said on the way to the end, The egress is not in the insistence but in the action. Your satisfaction is guaranteed or your money back, ‘Thirty days to return to your former self’ is no goal, it is a form of self delusion, impossible. So go to your room! Back to sleep! You’ve been asleep for ages, what’s another few aeons between friends. Down the hatch, they went, universal, digital hi-fi all-in-one remotes and all.
Returning to the apartment, Harvey saw them opening up cans, 20 oz. bottles, two liters, gallons of whupass, then served smackdowns complete with elbows, knees, boots to the face, stunning blows to the head. As desert, They threw their sharp edged dvd collections at him, leaving him with directors cuts. Lassoed him with their Action, Drama, Suspense, Adventure. Ya can’t just rent one! They ordered, Rent ‘em all! Collect ‘em all! Call Now! Then all at once flung their
credit cards, their
atm cards, their
debit cards and master cards their
visas and member cards and finallly their
platinum american express cards with their
edges sharpened like butchers knives, flung them in quick succession like chinese stars in martial arts movies with the precision of ninja babes or ninja assassins, they just wanted to use the words ninja and (BEEP) in the same sentence. Indeed they had a killer (BEEP) and the fact that he couldn’t get their hands on theirs should have been sentence enough. Harvey defended himself against each blow, his deflections left fragments of the soul embedded in the walls, scattered on the floor. These were chips off the old block. When Harvey proved indestructible though wounded They turned their backs on him, threatened to ignore him see how he liked it when They invited everyone else but him to go out on Friday night, Saturday night, Sunday brunch, alright guess we can do Sunday night too, tagged all but his photo on Facebook, poked, super poked and told stupid jokes to everyone but him. See how he liked it when They turned their backs on him, like at the bar when They circled the wagons, leaving Harvey to suffer the frigid winds of cold shoulders, icy blasts of silent treatment, icicle smiles. We won’t confirm you as a friend you know where. Won’t even evite you to special events, so there. When you post a comment we won’t even reply, it’ll be like talking to yourself, know why? We won’t even acknowledge the soul.
They threw their laptops at him,
hand held devices of communication at him,
an ex-communication of sorts to communicate to him
their displeasure at being exed by him.
We’ll Unfriend you, make snippy comments about you then say just kidding with a smiley face but everyone will know we weren’t because everyone knows what counts is what comes before the kidding, just kidding. Then they pirouetted and walked away with a sexy runway supermodel sashay. They flipped their hair, stopped for punctuation, did a supermodel sashay turn, held a pose at the end of the runway of life, The glamorous world is ours! They gave him over the shoulder dirty expeletive looks, Hold for commercial, no blinking. Ok welcome back, not you Harvey. You’ll never have this. They whirled, hands on waist, hair flip turn away, pointed to their derriere, honed and crafted diligently year by year. Smiling from ear to ear, they lept off the edge of the world, leaving in their wake a violent jagged cloud of rejection. He suffered further pangs of rejection in the morning as pictures from the weekend were posted on Facebook, yet he was nowhere to be seen. Or felt. Dejected, sad, Harvey lost his balance for the moment, uncentered, fell to the floor. Seeing an opportunity for reversal, They pooper-scooped him up, Crate and Barelled him to his room. Rolling along, Harvey realized he was fighting an uphill battle. Maybe it was best to vacate, He thought. Call the Landlords, give up the lease, thirty days to the upgrade would take forever. Furthermore, he felt like it seemed in the battle of evermore, it was only Monday.
He went in to work, at least there he could have a moment to himself. Phew, he breathed a sigh of relief. Never did he think he could actually look forward to a quiet day at the office. Upon arriving, he was greeted by his co-workers with crossed arms and legs and crossed feet, and cross looks. Well, well, well. They tapped their corporately appropriate heels and oxford wedges. Look what the past dragged in. looks like you brought the upgrade with you. Which is not going to sit well with us cuz we like the status quo, the old, the tried and true, the bedraggled, tired and blue, ragged and jangled, angled and gray like our nerves. We’ll dot your I’s out, slash your T’s. You’re the worm in our virus, the ointment in our soup, now fly! Shoo! Size is relative to the shine on our wing tips. They used Microsoft hurtful Words at which they Exceld, making blunt PowerPoints replete with graphs and charts linking documents one to another, embedding text, manipulating the master cell indicating with laser pointers on over head projectors his lack of worth, his decline in value over the years in direct proportion to the increase of sales. They punched him in the face with their
dirty looks, threw their
killer water cooler smiles. Their
Dektop 17" flatscreen glares, their
Rolodexes – who even uses those anymore, their
Plexiglass pencil holders, bend and flex, flung their
Herman Miller chairs with the lumbar support, reams of paper, teams of Staplers, hole punchers – heavy duty not the regular kind, though those would have hurt too, tape dispensers, copiers with the two sided printing function, fax machines, paper shredders and all their boxes – inboxes, outboxes, purchases order request boxes, time off request boxes and the boxes which they couldn’t think outside of. They darted their cubicled thoughts, their
aisle seats, their
“I’ll sees”, travel miles. Hit him upside the head with their
Corporate compliance manuals, their
Corporate discount, corporate luncheon semi-annuals, their
Cc emails, double check what the document entails, their
P&L statements, their
annual financials, their
board member presentations.
He said you are so much more than this. Without hesitation they cried out in one great battle accord. We are just secretaries, assistants, receptionists, temps, middle management, executives. Yeah, whatever you call it we are just this: Office workers, house wives, henpecked husbands, Don’t Ask Whys, Regular Joes, Chatty Cathys, Plain Janes, Suzy Q. Werty, now shut up and get us our cup a’ joe. They spilled their French brew on his head, they dreaded the taste anyway. What a waste, he heard them say behind his back in muted gray tones, To have a soul lying around. Go home, your assignment has been completed. We don’t like having you around anyway. What is a soul anyway? So anyway, leave your ID and don’t let the door hit you on the way out of our minds. We don’t know who the soul is. Even if we did, we’d forget due to the sugar substitute. Please make a copy of us before you go and brew some more coffee before we go out of our minds.
Who is this We? Asked the soul, There is only the One of us. There is only the ‘We’ huffed The They. What’s with all this ‘One’ stuff? What’re you Neo? This ain’t the Matrix, though it very well might be, We repeat We are just this. Now git and take the upgrade wit you. Indeed the upgrade had begun all around them, collapses could be heard on the other side of the floor, outside. There were tears in the very fabric of the lives they had once known, the cis boom bah, the rah, rah, rah crash and burn of everything going up in flames. They stopped, dropped and rolled the soul, clanged him over the head with the fire extinguisher. The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire! They shouted, We don’t need no fluorescent light infused office water let the little mutha burn! Burn mutha burn!
Harvey dizzied momentarily, became disoriented. Quick, grab him employees, contractors and temps! They knocked him over, lassoed his feet and hands with ethernet cables and LAN connections, stood on his chest. We’re going to climb over you to get to ours, up the corporate ladder and to the stars! They gouged their corporate compliant two inch heels, their oxford soles into his throat, anything to silence the soul. What’s the matter, CAT got your rung? They stuffed him into his cubicle which was smaller than he remembered. They keyed him like an old pinto, scratching pinstripes along the length of him. Now there’s a match between us and you. They stamped and sealed and delivered him to his fate via priority overnight special courier rate. We’ll bill him, they snickered later with a twisted wink, wink, over Snickers, Twix, Reeces Peeces bite sized snacks, We’ll give him no peace, no recess, take that. ‘these are to die for – I know! We’re so going to hell!’ their ecstacy was shortlived; no one remembered where the soul lived.
Upon arrival at his place of residence, the soul unpacked himself out of their corrugated lifestyle box. They hurled their porn collections at him, their popcorn confections at him. I don’t like seeing anyone reduced, said the soul. They called him an amateur girl tries anal for the first time. Now get it all and go to your room, they ordered, And stay hidden and small. Ha-ha-ha they said, Reduced. What’re you a moralist? This was the word of the day on Wikipedia – We’re going on sale today, slashing prices and cutting our throats. We’ll show you reduced. They threw in Apocalypse Now Redux, blasted the sound till the walls shook, threw scalding reduction sauce on him, splashed him with their coffee lattes then stopped with a gasp. Eww don’t waste the soy on the soul. How do you like us now Mr. Moralist. Do we look reduced? They loomed tall dark and handsome but their answers ravaged. ‘He who dies with the most toys wins! Was their battle cry. They threw their
fast cars and black cards at him, their
G5s and jet skiis at him, their
Montblancs with the gold trim. They threw their
boats and cars and shiny cigar chrome holders. They came at him with their
hi-resolution screens, Hi-def screams. He pulled the plugs on all the flat screens. The mass went mad from the silence, there was weeping and gnashing of brilliant white teeth, anguished flipping of shiny silken hair, jaws clenched, six pack abs flexed. They threw their corner offices at him, spit vitriole from the corners of their orifices. We’re gonna tear you a new orifice you watch, This is must see television. They stuffed him into manila folders and tucked him in a drawer in a file cabinet under lock and key which they placed back in his room under lock and key. Whoo-hoo they shouted like in that commercial, Back to the partie!!! Harvey the soul, man flexed and shattered the file cabinet, pulled the door off its hinges. Before stepping out he destroyed his bed with the memory foam. There was no returning to the sleep state before thirty days. He stuffed The Summer Houses, The Yachts, The Luxury Cars, The Speedboats into black bags of trash and dumped them in the incinerator. Upon his return the boys flung their darts at him over pitchers of beer at the local pub, threw his head at his chest in highly pixelated digital dramatics. Harvey threw away the joy sticks and remote controllers, broke the guitars of heroes and threw all users into the incinerator. The last words they expressed in vivid text message format: u r nt user friendly. U r not cool, u can’t play pool. Ur our doormat. The boys said ‘You go do what a good soul does go to your room and go to sleep. We’re on the go go go out making it happen. This party’s for dudes not bitches said the girls, We’re so bitchin’ we’ll scritchscratch yer eyes out. Ooo Burn!!! High Five. They would have scritchscratched his eyes out but didn’t want to ruin their french tips when they just sprung for mani-pedis ten bucks plus tips. Instead they said This is a man’s world and you swim like a girl. Yeah, go paint pretty pictures, draw dresses. You like flowers, little colorful birds, go pet kittens why don’t you. They set their 401Kanines on him, their bulldogs, pit bulls, bull mastiffs, looked down on him from their bull pulpits, gulped their red bulls and stroked their blue balls.You like pretty girls and beautiful women, we like hottsexycuntwhoreslutsupermodelbitches as depicted in the glossies. We like ‘em glassy eyed, in stitches. You like ’em natural n’ stitchless n’ articulate. We like ‘em strapless, inarticulate. We’ll take care of business, we’re real men not you, said the girls, Our jaws clenched, our teeth grid ironed. We have a stony look about us, you look soft and sweet and good enuff to eat. Like cookies n cream. Speaking of which the girls chimed in, That reminds us we should get some for tonight when we watch Lost oh but the flat screens are gone.
They turned on and doubled their wrath. We’re hungry for more, more, more. They crashed their score boards and backboards over his head. Extreme sports is what we clamor for, said the girls and broke his back with a mountain of double diamond snowboards. Used their bungee cords to suffocate him, strangled him with their shopping bags, yoked him with the rope handles, wrapped plastic bags around his head, Careful, this is not a toy! Yeah, we want to see you squirm, yeah this our world, your just a nut. They spelled it just like that because they were texting, they wouldn’t speak to him, wouldn’t touch the holiness of a soul with a ten foot pole. They struck him with their biblical vogues, broke their margarita pitchers over his head. He dizzied for a moment, tasting the green liquid had to admit it was delicious. He longed for happy hour. They rubbed the rock salt into his eyes, poured their cosmo-margarita-concoctions, their chemically enhanced tap water down his throat, brushed his teeth with fluoride. Hold his nose now swallow. Anything to sedate the soul. The girls pierced him through with samurai swords and sent him flying with high karate kicks and sexy mean ninja style looks. Now clam up and hit the floor we want to stamp out our cigarettes on your face, speaking of which that Harvey needs some serious Photoshop help. They ran to the bathroom and returned shivering with an arsenal of cosmetics, quivers full of arrowed makeover tips. U might be an old soul mr. harvey the soul man whatev but we’re smoking hott, too cool for school and nott that its any of your skinny beeswax but we’re going cold. Putting on a jacket is so old and yesterday. So here we go…
The girls painted his lips with lip gloss, applied foundation base make up concealer to his dark circles; Harvey had slept but hadn’t rested. They applied eye shadow, mascara, asked Cara if they could borrow her thousand dollar an ounce Oil of Okay cream and taught him ‘say okay to everything even if it didn’t mean anything but with a hitch in his throat so they would know he didn’t mean anything but disapproval. Even when he gave his approval. Why don’t you mean what you say and say what you mean? Said Harvey. You’re rude and mean for not letting us be rude and mean to you, we’re just kidding sort of, not really. He was so ravished by the smell of apricots and strawberries and vanilla rice cherries so like the real thing but not that he almost gave up and let Calgon take him away. But he remembered the agreement, his signature at the bottom of the contract: this was his apartment in fact. He threw out their syringes, false eye lashes, gritted teeth whitening strips, their hair straightening devices, hair curling with the splicing, lip gloss, lip stick, hair toss classes. He broke nails, ruined polish, mussed tresses which sent them into fits of convulsions, they lost all composure, all decorum, they broke their poses, disarched their backs, thier hair no longer flipped as it once did, just hung limply. They lost their style. Disoriented, they dropped like flies from their strippers poles. He scooped them up, threw them into the trash compactor all and one. With their compacts and shimmering glitter brick, spun gold lip balm, pretty little bags and lip liners and powder boxes and gifts with purchase, their nude on nude eye pallette applicators in warm, neutral and cool shades tumbling after them. As they fumbled towards oblivion they texted all and one, hey harvey the soul, man we’ll use your last name cuz we’re so cool and hott and going cold to the touch u r so going solo 2 the mani-padi man so tuff. This would be forever remembered as The Day The Diet Coke Stopped Flowing.
Finally Harvey was done. Gashed and scratched, scarred and bashed but the space was his. He wiped his hands clean of all matter and began a new.
He threw out yesterday with all its forgotten memories and lost loves, threw out his failures until all that remained were the shadows in the corners. From there he pulled loss and mistakes and went through the rest of the apartment doing the same until he found cowering in the corner of some hidden shadow the only other tenant allowed in the house. Please don’t incinerate me, he said, I am Harvey, man of the house. I am Harvey the soul, man was the reply. What do you want? He asked. I want to take back my house. I will help you get up. He gave the man a hand, raised him to his feet. We will make this into a home. Together, they swept the floors of spent tin cans of a false self. They washed the walls of separation. Repaired the breaks in the self. The soul lifted Harvey up and he replaced all the light bulbs. He placed a velvet rope at the doorway so none could enter that were not a invited and pleasing to Harvey. They removed the hair form the sink so the waters of life could flow. When all the work was done the soul and the man looked at one another. There’s one more thing, said the soul, There’s a bridge to cross. The man hesitated, couldn’t see the bridge for the waters, couldn’t see tomorrow. He faltered. We’ll do this together, said the soul, I’ll lead the way. Then he took a step forward and stopped, fell backward but he wasn’t falling, toppled onto Harvey, fell into the man but he was rising. Thus became Harvey the Soul Man.
copyright 2009 Christian Georgescu