The Fool

 

In those days, the world was strange. Often, it almost seemed as though all things could be. But when dreams come to haunt the day, it becomes confused, such that it is difficult to tell which is sleep, and which is awake.

When he first saw her, his eyes went wide.

(Emerging from from the void? Or was it a football game?)

 

She had hair the color of blood, skin pale, like death, and eyes like endless dark pits which bore into the soul. A strange whim, he put glitter in her hair. She turned and smiled playfully, and secretly pierced his heart.

The next day, he awoke, as if in a fever. She was the most beautiful girl in the world. “You are a fool!” He thought. And so he was.
For time immemorial, the Fool watched from afar. Being in her presence brought tingles all through his body, like he was about to lose consciousness. And her smile was like the sun – it hurt the eyes. Being as such, he couldn't very well talk to her, always with one hand up as a shield. So, instead, he dreamed of the future.

And always, the fever grew, until he became a heat source. In winter, people would crowd around him for warmth. One day, The Fool could take it no longer, so he marched to her, hand raised, and declared,

“I love you!”

She was confused. Recovering, she calmly replied “I don’t care.”

He paused in vexation, unable to believe his ears. “But it was meant to be!”

She laughed.

“Nothing was meant to be.” Turning away, she disappeared into the void.

Long in the times afterward, the period of exile, the Fool sat, weak and lethargic, feeling but the cold and the heat of love. Truly, it was pathetic. His fever immediately abated, he became cold as ice to the touch, and turned more and more transparent as time went by. People could see right through him, and would often jump, saying, “Are you a ghost?!”, to his great annoyance. With time, they would treat him as though he weren’t there at all.

Who knows how he would have remained in this state, catatonic? Would it be until he faded out of existence? But, then came The Storm.
One day, he stepped outside, warily. And surely, it could be seen. Black clouds in the distance, approaching, slowly, creeping ever closer. Instinct came over him, he knew that it contained the one thing he feared more than all else in the world. He grew pale, and was stricken by weakness. He could barely stand. A crushing sensation came over him, and his vision darkened. He was shaking. He was being crushed.
He had to get away. He knew it. Rushing over to his bicycle, he jumped on. Frantically, he pedaled until he was outside of town, and the storm receded behind him into the distance. But, because he was a fool, he did not watch the road on which he left.

It was long he rode, as everything he had ever known and loved receded into the fog of memory behind him, where it would remain forevermore. Through what distance? His body would have long worn out, but for the fear of what lay behind, the great force of cowardice driving him forward. But, eventually, the light began to fade. The storm now long behind, the fool collapsed on the road, and shut his eyes.
But with the coming of the night, They appeared. At first, The Fool noticed a singular hooded figure, cloaked in black, in the distance approaching solemnly next to the road.

"Who's there?" Asked The Fool. But no reply came. The figure merely walked forward, assuming a position in front of him - but on the side of The Road, never touching The Road.

"Who are you?" The Fool repeatedly frantically. He started to back away. Then he noticed behind him yet another. The Fool screamed. But they paid him no mind - they just stood at the edge of The Road. Always watching. But never stepping a foot on it.

The Fool continued to panic the whole night, as more of Them came and lined up one by one, stretching as far as the eyes could see. He demanded to know who they were, what their purpose was, why they haunted him. They watched.

(Were they ghosts? Just like him?)

And yet, with the coming of the light, one by one, they left as they had come, walking away into the distance and out of sight.

In the night, the storm had approached fast, and was nearly upon him. And so he rode on more, and without rest, without nourishment, he was astonished to find that his legs still carried.

(And why should they not? They were the legs of a fool.)

So, through the day he found the strength to ride, to escape the oncoming storm for a while more. It was not until the storm was long behind that he stopped to drink of a passing stream. And it was long then until the sun set and They came out. But he did not look them in the eyes, and slept under their watchful, silent gazes.

In the morning, in his riding, he came upon the forest, a green land in which tall trees stretched nearly to the sky, on either side of the road. And in this forest he came upon a town. And in this town, the people ignored him. He knew it, they could all tell he was a Fool. But, in the center of the town, there was a withered man with a blank face seated on a broken throne, eyes staring listlessly into the distance, at nothing at all.

There was a man standing nearby, at the foot of the throne, as if on guard. Curious, The Fool asked "Who is this man?"

The man looked disgusted for a second. "What be it to you, Fool?" The Fool grimaced. Sighing, the man continued,

"This is our King. Once he was The Dancing King, and danced through the forest. Because he was burning with love for each person, each animal, each tree, each blade of grass, each grain of dirt in his Kingdom. He had to dance, for each thing, it made his heart burst with joy. But, one day, he shriveled up. He had used up all his love, and that is where he has remained."

The Fool laughed. "Ha! He should not have loved so much!"

Looking around him, people glared. He knew he had said the wrong thing. Quickly he left, with a wary look behind his shoulder.

Many days passed yet in the Forest. He spent them all outriding the storm, and cowering under Their gaze. But then he came upon The Mountains. And The Mountains loomed large in the distance. They stayed there for many days. Always the Fool thought he must be right upon them, but yet another day would pass with little progress.

Soon The Road came upon a great river. It's waters were mostly mud. And, miles down The Road, in the distance, he could see the outline of farms. When he came upon them, the faces unkind, they had hard eyes that said "Outsider!" He did not belong. But there was nowhere else to go, no other way, so he pressed on.

Within a day of coming upon the farms he first entered the mountains. They rose up in massive gorges around the river, surrounded on all sides by the farmers in the valley, scrounging every square inch they could live off. Here, they became leaner, but all the more prouder for it. And with the same eyes, "Outsider! Who are you to judge?"

(Perhaps their eyes were never on him at all?)

Yet always, The Storm lurked behind, driving him on.

It came to pass, after endless wandering, that he came upon a great walled city, settled between the mountains, It seemed out of place. Like him, it did not belong.

Closer, he could see two guards. They were chatting about the weather. As he approached, one addressed him.

"Leave. No one is allowed in." And the Fool looked around desperately. Was there another way? Could he swim?

But the other guard turned to face him.

"Can't you see? He is a Fool."

"Ah, that he is."

And then they raised the gate.

"Do Fools often come this way?" He asked

But, he received no answer.

Within The City, there was much movement, much business. All seemed preparing for war, all the time. All were wearing armore, many practicing their fighting. He stood, holding his bike, nervous to be the only thing in sight with no clear purpose.

But, it was not long before he became noticed by an Officer, one who's business seemed to be everyone else's.

"What's this? A Fool? You will be taken to the Inspector General, he will know how to sort you out."

And th busy man set off, apparently in the belief the Fool would follow. And so he did, meekly, as always. There was nothing else to do.
And when they arrived at the man who was, presumably, the Inspector-General, The Fool found him to be the spitting image of his officer escort, a vague officious man, surrounded by paperwork and attendants.

"Are you two brothers?" Asked The Fool.

"What? Him?" The Inspector-General looked bemused, and laughed. At this the Officer turned his head and grimaced in painful resentment. He walked away.

"Now, what is your business with us?"

"I have none."

"We all have business. Sometimes we just don't know what it is."

"Well, I don't know. What is this place?"

"Ah, now we arrive at it. This is always the first question that Fools ask. We guad this region, and must stay vigilant at all times. The lazy slaves beyond the wall are always seeking independence, always seeking to strip us of our rightful due, and only through maintaining our strength and superiority can we crush rebellion. If we but lapse a little, the Republic will fall, and we will be broken." He said this all with a stately indifference, his eyes aloft, staring into the distance.

"So you dedicate all this effort to keeping them? But surely you are just slaves yourselves."

And once again, The Fool could tell he had not said the right thing. he was was met with fierce eyes all around.

"Get this Fool out of my sight," demanded the Inspector-General, and forceful hands rushed to obey, pulling on The Fool. He soon found himself escorted out.

But, thankfully, it was to the other side. The Storm had closed much of the gap in the time he had spent. Once more he set off.

The walled city receded behind him, and now he looked upon the river people surrounding him with sad eyes. But, there was nothing that could be done. Soon, night came, and They with it. He slept under Their watchful eyes, within the safety of The Road. When he awoke, he road on. But something was strange to him. Where had they all gone? Everything seemed empty and derelict. Later, in the day, after some miles, he came to seem people again. But the next day, it was the same. What had once been alive was now gone.

As the days went by, the settlements grew fewer and fewer, the land dryer and more barren. With the drying of the land he grew weaker, and as he grew weaker, he faded every so slightly more.

Eventually, the mountains receded, and he came upon a desert. And in the desert he came upon the wandering philosopher, Phillip, who worshiped noise, and wished all to remain in stasis.

And before The Fool rode by, he called out to him.

"What is the rush, Fool? There is time yet. Come and stay with me for a while."

And The Fool did as a he was told. And they made camp, and fire, to scare Them away with the light. And in the coming of the night, Phillip said:

"Long have you come, Fool, struggling like a fool. Why? Like all life, you strive for the greater. But what is the greater? In the end we shall return to dust, and feed the Earth. To become one once more with the noise, and cease our marching, cease our endless, deafening order."
And he drew up.

"We are a cursed people, sent here by a cruel God, to suffer, and to die."

And with that, he snuffed the fire out.

"Is this the end?" He yelled, laughing.

And The Fool panicked, as They rushed inward with the darkness. And he ran back to The Road. And all the time, Phillip laughed maniacally in the distance. And The Fool lie on the cold Road, and slept to the laughing, unceasing.

Soon it was morning and all was gone. phillip rode once more, but in the distance he saw blue. And as he came closer, he saw the vast ocean. But the road, as always kept on. An endless bridge formed up, stretching into infinity. The Fool looked back; the Storm was upon him. Quickly, he scooped up as much water as he could from the river, and rode onto the bridge.

For days he kept at it, and his water dipped lower and lower. Surely this bridge led to somewhere? It cannot go on for all time. But, on and on it went. The blue at the horizon was his only friend in this wasteland. He looked through himself in horror, growing fainter and fainter, as he grew weaker and weaker with time.

Eventually he saw something strange ahead. The horizon was receding, his only friend in the world.

"This cannot be!" He said.

But so it was. The blackness approached, and there was nothing but void. He had reached the end of the world. He walked to the edge, and saw the water tumbling over through endless dark. But The Road continued ever on, over the edge, undeterred. So, he rode on.

Within a day of entering the void, his water dwindled to nothing. But he rode on and on, through the blackness, as the whole world disappeared slowly behind him. Everything, besides him, The Road, and the Storm, and Them.

Within two days, he collapsed. Bodies can only keep on for so long, it is the way of things. But even then he tried to crawl, in fevered fear and delirium. But, finally, the Storm came upon him. He screamed.

And then, finally in the middle of the storm, They walked onto The Road. One walked towards him. The Fool tried to crawl away, but it was useless.

He picked The Fool up, and held him in his arms like a child. He lifted his veil, and looked down at The Fool with sad eyes.

"You have failed," he said.

And The Fool looked around, and realized the truth.

"I see," he said. And finally he faded out of existence, once and for all.