The Condor and The Silence

The Condor and The Silence

The Silence and The Condor

The condor.

Chapter 1.

A powerful bird flew over the great canyons. The orange sun illuminated it’s mighty wings. The condor enjoyed the wind…he loved the sun…he knew life of the canyon and desert, and he was exactly where he should be in the world, fulfilling his role as the judge of the brutal desert.

His eyes searched for a sign as he circled above. What sign you may ask?

A sign of an adventure, a sign of satisfaction, a sign of life, a sign to help him fulfill his God given role.

The winds threw the sand around as he landed on the edge of the cliff. In the distance he could see the eagles sitting on the opposite side of the vast canyon. Proud eagles…also searching for their sign…to fulfill the role they were given.

He turned to his right. There was that tall hill…or a mountain? It was the place of his birth…he hasn’t ventured far ever since. He was perfect for this place…made for it…created to match it.

Like a perfect puzzle piece, fitting right into this world.

Where there creatures that weren’t part of this puzzle?

The condor wondered…but his knowledge was limited. Wind blew again and the mighty bird sensed something beyond the hill. He flapped his wings and took off to take a peek.

There…behind those red ancient rocks…was a struggle.

A struggle almost old as anything, a struggle for survival…

The condor landed upon a large tall rock and observed. 

Below, right by the red wall of the canyon, in the hot sand lay a man with his hands tied behind his back. He was wiggling and trying to move his body towards a sharp rock on the side…

Oh the struggle…beautiful struggle…

The silence.

Chapter 2.

My eyes were burning, I felt dryness overtake my throat and the skin. However, I was calm, the rock that could free me was just up ahead.

I felt like screaming…but alas I had no tongue. They cut it out before tying me up and throwing me into the desert.

You must be wondering…who am I…

I’ll tell you about my life…think carefully as you hear my story. 

A young boy who was taught to steal food from an early age.

My father, who smelled of alcohol even on the rare days he didn’t drink, would shake me early each morning. In the beginning, when I first became a boy, this startled me greatly. However, I got used to it over time. I would raise myself of the concrete floor, where I slept and would stumble out of the door and unto the dangerous busy streets of the slum, and make my way to the better area. It didn’t matter if I was sick, weak…I had to go, or he’d give me a beating, and then I’d have to go.

I thought this was the normal life, until I really started noticing how the fathers who I stole from treated their suns. Then I understood the horror.

So…anyway…each morning I had a few spots. A bakery, where I could snatch a bread, and a corner where there was a popular ice cream stand which only accepted coins. When ever one of the would drop one I’d grab it and run. There were several other locations where I could get a coin a day in a similar way, thanks to that there was a lower chance of me being caught.

When I’d bring back the food and at least one coin, father would reward me with a good smack on the face, sometimes a spit and some days, even some crumbs.

Feeling sorry? Don’t be…don’t be…

Years went by, I became taller and stronger.

One night, I had snatched a nice small knife from a fancy gentleman. When I walked into our trashy home father was passed out in the old crumbling chair which was very low to the ground.

Yes…I could just simply leave, but I was raised in brutality, therefore I would leave the place only after leaving my own mark of that same brutality. I cut his throat, as he opened his eyes and fell to the floor I could see the shock in his dying wrinkly evil face.

I left and never came back to that town. I became a coal worker on one of the new trains. Going place to place, working hard.

But the brutality…it never left me even if I did leave the place of it’s origin.

Chapter 3.

Bam!

A small rock from the canyon wall hit my face and I felt blood coming from my cheek. I saw a large condor sitting there, staring at me.

That’s nice…lets focus on this story now…we can get back to my life later.

I finally wiggled myself to the rock and began to rub the ropes against it. The sun was scorching and my body was losing it’s last bit of energy. I could feel life seeping out of me. The ropes wouldn’t give, I was too weak.

What an end…You wont know my story after all.

Alas…wait! A shadow! Someone stepped in front of the sun and was looking down on me. My vision became very blurry…and then, as I saw the silhouette bending towards me I could just hear an old man’s voice somewhere far away before passing out.

“They did a number on you…”

Chapter 4.

The train was going…forever going…

I stood on the platform of the station watching it disappear in the distance, finally. Eternally, I did not want to see trains anymore. Years of that hellish labor and finally I saved enough to move on.

Ah, but life has a funny way of twisting the plans…taking a straight path and covering it up with mud…dirt really, the kind you cannot avoid. You have to get deep into it and survive.

So there I was…at a casino, losing my money. With a hunting knife hidden behind my jacket, already thinking of my escape. One of the gang members was watching me like a hawk. They wanted the money they swindled out of me, but at the end of the day it was I who put myself in this situation. I laughed loudly after losing another hand and said that I need to relieve myself in the toilet. I was lying of course, I remembered that the toilet had a window, I checked this prior and had my horse tied right outside of it.

With a side of my eyes I saw him following me. The air was filled with tobacco and that smell of alcohol that my father had…damn…I remembered him, then I touched my knife inside the jacket.

As I entered the toilet I quickly began to open the window. I jumped out and then was greeted with a punch in the face from that same guy. Luckily, in the last few years I was in many fist fights, making extra money, so the punch barely shook me. I took the knife out and stabbed him in the stomach. Maddening excitement filled me as I saw him drop to his knees, his face displayed that same horror…The brutality….living inside of me…I stabbed him in the neck and violently pulled out, kicked him in the chest and then watched his body convulsing on the ground.

The brutality…the evil…

I could not waste more time. I hopped on the horse and got going. I had to leave the region.

Chapter 5.

I slowly opened my eyes, my hands were unbound, above me was the dark sky of the night. The old man who rescued me was sitting by the fire that he made. I slowly sat up and he noticed. Half turned to me he spoke.

“So what happened to you?”

I opened my mouth and pointed inside of it, shaking my finger.

“They cut it out?”

I nodded.

“Wow….well, I’m making soup, you must be very hungry…”

I felt my legs wobble, I was indeed very weak. I sat myself not far from the man, I could see him clearly now.

He had a round face with full red cheeks, the white beard and mustache decorated him quiet well and gave him the look of the “kind” man. His large black eyes looked up at me from the soup bowl he was mixing above the fire.

“My name is Tom, how about you? Can you write it on the ground?”

I shook my head.

“Can’t write?”

I shook my finger.

“You don’t know your name???”

I smiled, not sure why exactly, but I always created fake names, but not this time. It was the truth, I did not know my real name. My father always referred to me as “bastard”, “turd”, “scum”. I was Bill, Mitch, Teo…haha. I shook my head in my crazy amusement.

“Now that is interesting…a no name.”

He blew the soup in a large spoon that he lifted to his mouth and took a sip.

“Ahhh, very good!”

He then poured some into a metal cup and handed it to me. The cup was warm…I took a sip and my mind was filled with a memory in that instant.

Chapter 6.

I was far away from the mainland, the large ship was brining me to my new home…my new job. I was to be a lighthouse keeper assistant on a small island. The money was good and it got me away from trouble.

There was a metal cup in my hand which the ship captain handed to me, filled with soup. I was coughing and he noticed. His reasoning wasn’t that of concern for me, hah.

“Listen lad, the old Steno has been weak lately, hence why he requested for an assistant. I don’t want you brining him some sort of a cold right away. Drink up and see how you feel, if it seems to bad, we will wait in the marina an extra day upon arrival, to make sure.”

He strongly pat me on the back and laughed. That Steno must have shown much strength. How did he manage a lighthouse alone, from what I understood for years. It was a hard job, everyone knew that…Or did they? Hah…

I drank the soup, the taste was foul, but who cared, the taste wasn’t it’s purpose. I looked up at the grey skies. The waves rocked the ship, just enough to make it uncomfortable, but not enough to be very concerned. In the distance I saw a bird and then the island’s outline. it was a perfect place for me…at least for some time.

Shortly upon arrival at the marina I was feeling just fine and the man in charge lead me down a stony path into the tiny village, in the distance I could see the medium sized white lighthouse upon a small hill. So that was it…

The lanky man with a thin pale face walked me through the village, which looked almost like a ghost village, with exception of few depressed looking fisherman. The man explained that part of Steno’s and mine salary goes to the locals who will be providing us with fish, milk and bread. I was under an impression that we’d get food ourselves. I didn’t like the idea of losing money. Rather than being served I would prefer to save extra coin.

Ehhh, muddy road lead us to the white wooden house which stood not far from the lighthouse of the same color. Out on the porch sat the man himself. Indeed a strong looking older man. He had large arms, big bushy hair and a tight white shirt which was partially torn open revealing a very hairy chest. He stood up and shook my hand with immense force. I did well not to grimace.

The man, Steno, was rough, but welcoming and honest. He showed me my room and explained all the duties I had to do. Basically it came down to him needing more sleep during the day, therefore my work was to revolve around completing day time duties, such as cleaning, making sure the lighthouse was all proper for the night, painting, brining the food and storing it, brining up the kerosine, and few other tasks which seemed simple enough. He said if I want to stay up and watch the light, I could, but I wasn’t allowed any day time sleep.

I didn’t care. All that mattered was to dig into this work, make good money, and leave…go up north, far up north, buy a cabin, live away from it all.

The following days the weather was beautiful. The sun was shining brightly, the skies were blue, birds sang in the trees, katydids and cicadas joined the chorus of the nature. This job was indeed filled with solitude. At first I took it as a great benefit, but then I felt it…the brutality, the troublesome thoughts. I continued to work hard. I learned to fish and I was completing all my duties well, according to Steno.

Some nights I stayed up late to sip by the ocean and watch the lighthouse shine…with the stars in the background. The night waves being so soothing, it would made me forget the violence inside of my heart.

Weeks passed and an event happened which made that terrible thing inside of me grow again. Our first payments came in and with the corner of my eye I saw Steno putting his money away into a large box, I saw a glimpse o gold and silver inside.

Maybe I didn’t have to wait too long after all to have my cabin…

That night I sat by the water on the black rocks, listening to the dark waves, hoping they’d relieve me of the bad thoughts.

I resisted, for many nights I repeated this ritual, until I had no more strength inside of me to push it the darkness within back deep down.

So, one day I prepared a boat and hid it in the bushes. The night came and Steno left his room to go up to the lighthouse. Again life had a funny way of twisting the roads of fate. The old man forgot his hat that he liked to wear during his shifts and as he got back to his room, I was caught in the act of trying to take his box. There was astonishment on his face as he saw me and during the time of this hesitation I struck him with a metal pole I brought to help me force the lock on the box. He fell with a great thud, blood poured from his head, the moon illuminated his body laying there on the wooden floor.

To end life like that, because of someone like me…the horror.

I forced the lock, put all of the money, gold and silver into a bag and ran towards the boat.

God did not reward the wicked…I suppose. For once I was out in the ocean, rowing towards the shore…a great storm began!

Madness, chaos, frantic fight to survive.

I though I was done for…yet I was washed ashore alive, but the good and the boat, were gone.

Killing a man because of money was terrible, but now this ended up killing for nothing…maybe it was nothing to begin with.

Chapter 7.

“Troubling memories? Didn’t like the soup?”

I indicated with my fingers that the soup was fine. I looked up above and saw many stars.

“The beautiful blanket of the night, what an artist God is.”

Was someone like me part of his art? I looked at the man for a moment, wanted to say something, but what? Even if I did have a tongue.

“You’re lucky I came around, I only come this way once a month. It’s a very tricky area, lots of quick sand.”

I nodded towards him indicating gratitude. However, was I actually grateful?

And lucky…was I always lucky? Or always cursed? No…it’s my own failure not to resist, to fall.

“When I was young, I got myself into some bad situations. A human alone cannot resist temptation.”

He looked me into the eyes.

“We need God, we are not strong enough on our own, we do not have our own righteousness, the real one comes from God…so later in life, I understood this, and now I have true peace.”

I sat for several minutes motionless, watching him stir the soup some more and take sips. Was that it? But I did not know God…I lowered my head and watched the cracks in the hard ground.

Perhaps I knew God after all, I just didn’t seek a relationship with him…Hah…

And this man here? He has no idea what I am, and he saved me. Saved a monster.

“I’ll tell you a bit about my life, since you cannot speak, my friend.”

I raised my head again, watching him. Go on old man…tell the story of your life…or whatever it is you need to say…who knows what will happen to you next.

“Before the time I mentioned earlier, in my very youth, I was growing up on a farm. Youngest of nine children.”

He noticed my eyes get enlarged for a moment.

“Yes, big family! However, my father, the hard working farmer, found little help from the others, only one who was helping him…was me. Over the years this brought great resentment of others. When my father died…collapsed in the field, I left. The farm failed, they all hated me, but I wasn’t going to carry them on my back. For years I lost my way…I even join a gang…I stole.”

He made a grimace of disgust.

“It’s hard to believe now…but then, I found Christ…I found God.”

He shook his head.

“No…the Spirit found ME. Saved me. There is nothing in life that I feared since. Now what do I do? I am a farmer. Hard work, in these conditions, but I embrace it. Isn’t that funny? How things go full circle?”

Funny indeed…what is my full circle?

Born into brutality…and the end…will be in brutality. Heh. I smiled again.

“Hah, made you realize something? Wish you could talk friend, it really is tough, what these people did to you. Robbers?”

I couldn’t help but smile ironically again. Far from robbers old man…Better people than both of us. I reached inside my mouth and felt the wound. Suddenly violent sickness overcame me and I passed out once again.

Chapter 8.

When I was washed ashore I knew that it wouldn’t take long for authorities to start looking for me. I had no money, but there was a place were I hid some coins before going to the island. This was enough to ironically get me on a dreadful train, to take me far towards the west. Once again with a new name…oh how funny indeed.  

I sat by the window and watched the lands go by. I was so hungry, but I had no more money left, all spent on one way ticket all the way to the west. It was an older woman who read my face and called over the attendant. She requested a full meal for me. She informed that her travels were taking her to the west as well, a visit to a very wealthy grandson.

Wealthy…It peeked my interest, perhaps I could find an opportunity here to grab some richest again and finally actually hold on to them.

Lands kept rolling by, days passed, and there I was, a friend in the eyes of that lady, heading to the estate with her, where she promised she’d get me a job working for the grandson.

In the distance I could see the canyons and the desert as we left the platform. There were people waiting for her with a nice carriage. They took us through some bumpy roads and just like that I was working as a servant under the butler of the grand estate.

They were wealthy indeed. Golden candle holders alone would be good enough, if I put multiple in a bag. I needed to have the right timing.

The grandson was a calm, pompous fool, who could never suspect me, to even look a servant in the eyes was beneath him, so how could even begin to fathom my intentions?

His brothers, a few uncles and some cousins, all lived there. This was the place where I though I made my final mistake in life.

The night I was putting some goods into the bag, a young boy, son of an elder brother, came down to grab some water. Startled, in frantic action, I stabbed the boy in the arm. He began to scream in insane volume and I fell on him, closing his mouth and nose. As he passed out on the floor, it was already too late for me as the servants and guards were awake and seized me.

The boy passed away that very night. In rage the family refused to hand me to authorities. There were people brought in front the village. A gang…I did not hear the conversations behind the closed door, but once those were done, the gang took me with them.

First they beat me and kicked me almost senseless, then they tied me up. And then…they cut out my tongue.

Reveling in abnormal pain I was dumped in the desert near the canyons.

Only to be saved once again.

Chapter 9. 

It was morning. I noticed the gun in the old man’s bag from the night before. He was still asleep. He had a horse, house, a bag full of food and water.

I carefully removed the gun and sat not far from him with it. Shortly after the man was awake. Strangely he did not turn to look for me. Sitting with his back to me he spoke.

“I knew who you are.”

I raised the gun and pointed it at his back. I waited for him to say more, but he was silent. If he knew why did he untie me? Why was he careless with the gun as well? Speak! He remained silent. I tried to force myself to speak, but only strange ugly noice came out. Anger was overcoming me. The memories of brutality…of pain.

I pulled the trigger. The horse jumped to the side and the old man lay dead.

Why…if he knew…then why…

I put away the gun, took his things and got up on the horse.

This time however…I wasn’t going to be given another chance.

As I rode out into the desert path, the horse collapsed into the quick sand. I was able to jump and roll just in time, but all the food, water, gun and the horse…all gone. And my arm? Broken.

With my tired wobbly legs I began to wander through the canyons, clueless as to where I should be headed.

Eventually the heat and then pain forced me down. Last bit of energy has left me. Near me with blurry vision I could see several vultures coming nearer.

Chapter 10.

The condor.

The great bird observed the story of terror and of a wicked mind with curiosity. He flew up and circled around, seeing the vultures below having their feast upon the flesh of the man who was freed just the day prior to this.

It was an unsolvable puzzle.

The condor looked up at the sky. He opened his wings and flew, enjoying the freedom and the gift of life.

He did not need many chances. One he had was enough.