|
TITLE: The Old Compass By kathryn johnson 06/02/07 |
 SEND A PRIVATE COMMENT
SEND ARTICLE TO A FRIEND
|
“...Who do you take me for, anyhow?” Jack sat down. “There is no God...or gods...or as you say...” He reached his left arm around to scratch his right one.
“So you say.” Upshot was lighting his pipe. “And why do you say, by the way?”
“It is plain to see, sir. Take a look at the pervasive nature of evil. The world is largely cruel and predatory and, well, full of tragedy at every turn. Why! just as I am ready to celebrate the completion of a work well done, BAM! my loved one dies...or is carted off wrongly—to prison...or the earth quakes and swallows up all my hard work!” Jack took out a smoke and motioned to Upshot for the box of matches on his large, knotted cedar desk.
“It is just as you say, son.” Upshot slipped the box open and pulled a match from it. He struck the match and leaned in close to light Jack’s cigarette. “It is just as you say. All the evil is ever spoiling. But, son, just what is it that the evil seems to be spoiling?”
“All the good, sir, of course.”
“Who then, is responsible for these: the evil and the good?” Upshot shot.
“No one. Sir, that is my point. There is no God.” He shot back, looking disappointed.
Upshot stood suddenly, pulling his watch from his pocket. As he stood, his old wooden compass caught on his wrinkled, oversized shirt. It stuck, alighted, turned about, and then spun to the floor with a “klinddk!”
“Sir–what is that?” Jack perked up (he always did love old things).
“Why, it is an old wooden compass. They say the old greats used this one. You know, Newton, Galileo...
But, which legends to believe and which to disbelieve I know not...” He looked flustered and rushed as he walked over to pull his trench coat from its arm-rack.
“I’m late son.”
“So! that is nothing to be alarmed about. Indeed, it is to be expected, sir.” He said, feeling suspicious. “Sir, may I take a look at the old compass?”
“You’ll have to hold it while I walk. You know, rules! Have to lock up, son.” He hastened to the door and rattled the knob.
“Sir! you...this is not a thing...sir, how can I...” Jack had hastened to sweep up and cradle the old compass. He looked down at it as he spoke, stammering.
“Son! you look smitten!” Upshot smiled. “Worry not. I know where you stay. And I know you, son.” With that, both quickly exited and Upshot pulled the door shut. He then began to feel around, patting his chest...then his hips...”...that key...that damnedable key! I know...where...I just know it’s here. Ah–HA!” He pulled a very ancient looking skeleton key from his inside coat pocket. He inserted the key into the keyhole and locked up.
“Sir? how’d you come across this old thing.” Jack said in a liquid voice.
“Oh—that old thing?” He paused, looking down as though suddenly startled at his disheveled appearance. “It is also rumored that it merely came about. Yes, just as Francium or Silver: through random mutations.” He pulled out his pocket watch, flipped it open, gave it a glance, slapped it shut, and shoved it back into his hip pocket.
He hastened his walking again. “...Under favorable conditions, of course.” He said with a tossed glance and a knowing smile.
“Of course.” Jack tried to hold back a good-losers smile. You just couldn’t win or lose with Upshot. He never seemed interested in ANYTHING enough to fight for it. Nothing, that is, save people. Jack made a turn and began to head for the dormitories with his borrowed treasure. “We’ll talk later, sir?” He said.
“Mmm...” Upshot made haste, as though in pursuit of love.
The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.