Clamouring to become visible...

Here's a little sneak peak at a vignette I've worked on for a scene in my novel set in London. Since I'm not doing a lot of work on that book just now, I thought you might like to see a little bit of it. It's similar in style to some of the tales in the Lieh-tzu, or the stories told by characters in the work of Dostoevsky, although (bizarrely) it was listening to the opening of Nietzsche's Thus Spoke Zarathustra that inspired the style for this. Enjoy.

*** UPDATE 6 September 2007 *** I have submitted this as an entry in the Write Stuff Shorty Story Contest. Vote early and vote often for me!

I travelled along the road when I came upon the Strong Man. "Strong Man" said I. "Tell me, what is the strongest part of a man?"

"A man can find strength from his bones and his muscles" said the Strong Man. "They can carry him far in life and make him mighty. But these are merely flesh, and any man can have them, if he works for them. No, man is truly strongest in his heart. For a man's heart can be invincible when he is passionate and pure. When a man's heart has love in it, he cannot be conquered. The love in a man's heart is limitless, unceasing, overwhelming. When he loves, it is never lightly. That is the strength of a man. An indomitable heart."

Further along the road I came upon the Broken Man. "Broken Man" said I. "Tell me, what is the weakest part of a man?"

"A man's skin and bones and muscles can fail him" said the Broken Man. "Through sickness, injury or old age, even the mighty will succumb. But this is natural, and any man can suffer from these afflictions, in the fullness of time. No, man is truly weakest in his heart. For a man's heart is vulnerable when he is passionate and pure. When a man's heart has love in it, he can be conquered. The love in a man's heart can be taken for granted, abused, and discarded. When a man loves, it is never lightly. That is the weakness of a man. His heart is easily broken."

In time I came upon the Wise Man. "Wise Man" said I. "The Strong Man told me that the heart is the strongest part of a man, yet the Broken Man told me that the heart is the weakest part of a man. Wise Man, tell me, who was right?"

The Wise Man smiled. "Both told you the truth. When a man loves, his heart is boundless, and his love is limitless. But at this moment of absolute strength his heart is so vulnerable, so weak. For it has given all of its strength out to the one it loves. And if that love is discarded, rejected or in vain, then the heart simply shatters. This much you knew already, for you are both the Strong Man and the Broken Man."

I looked back from where I had came, and I recognised the Strong Man and the Broken Man as me. And I knew the truth.

I came upon the Angel at the end of the path I walked. "Angel" said I. "Will you keep my heart strong?"

"Only you can say" said the Angel. "When a man loves, his heart is strong, but may break at any time."

So I gave the Angel my heart, and then the Angel flew away.

I watched the Angel fly with tears in my eyes. The Angel turned, and saw my tears.

"Man" said the Angel. "Why do you cry?"

I looked up at the Angel, and replied. "Angel, I have never before seen such beauty. I thought I knew what was beautiful in this world, but that was before I saw an angel for the first time. It is the beauty of such a wondrous creature that makes me cry - with joy for beholding the beauty, and with sadness that you depart."

The Angel returned to the path I stood on, and approached. "Is that the only reason you cry?"

And I found I could not look the Angel in the eyes. "No" I mumbled. "I cry because you carry off my heart, and I do not know if you will keep it safe, or whether you will cast it down from the heavens, when it will surely shatter. A man's heart must be a common thing to an angel."

The Angel wiped the tears from my eyes with a hand and said "Man, you give your heart freely, and with no expectation in return. Such a gift is rare, even to the angels. Your heart is precious, and will be kept safe. And in return, you may have this."

The Angel pressed something into my hands, then flew up into the sky. In wonderment I beheld this flight, happy to have spoken to the Angel. I looked down at my hands, to see what the Angel had given me.

And I smiled, and the tears filled my eyes. Not tears of sadness, at watching the Angel depart, but joy, at the gift I had been given. For in my hands I had that rarest of gifts, which is most precious.

I had given the Angel my heart. And I received the Angel's in return.