Author's Standard Disclaimer: I do not own any to the concepts of tv shows, books, comics, music, lyrics, anime etc and so forth. I am not making any money off of any of the stories I write, I'm just doing this for fun.
Story Title: Shadows
Rating: PG13
Date: 4 Oct 2004
Dust settled around the car as he pulled it to a stop off the road at the edge of an abandon ghost town. He did not know what had made him come this way, a pull he could not ignore. The worn wooden sign leading into the town read Four Corners. As he walked down what was once the main path through the town, a shiver runs down his spine. Around him he could make out the shadowy echoes of the lives that once lived within this place. Slowly he made his way down the street, faint echoes of horses and the sound of voices whispered on the wind around him.
Turning he found himself before what was once the town saloon. Walking through the door the shadows seem to stir within the interior of the room and at one of the surviving tables, they darken until he could make out a figure of a man in a red coat. His head was bowed, his hands moved effortlessly as he shuffling cards one at a time through his fingers before flipping them through the air and into a pile in front of him.
He
deals the cards as a meditation
And those he plays never
suspect
He doesn't play for the money he wins
He doesn't play
for the respect
He deals the cards to find the answer
The
sacred geometry of chance
The hidden law of probable outcome
The
numbers lead a dance
Looking up the man met his eyes and he could hear his voice softly float across the room to him.
"know
that the spades are the swords of a soldier"
"know that the
clubs are weapons of war"
"I know that diamonds mean money for
this art"
"But that's not the shape of my heart"
Looking
back down the man's nimble fingers pulled cards randomly out of the
deck, rubbing a finger along the edge of each before laying them down
gently face up.
"He
may play the jack of diamonds"
"He may lay the queen of
spades"
"He may conceal a king in his hand'
"While the
memory of it fades"
The specter went back to his game, but the words he spoke earlier seem to echo.
"know
that the spades are the swords of a soldier"
"know that the
clubs are weapons of war"
"I know that diamonds mean money for
this art"
"But that's not the shape of my heart"
"I lived my life by never letting others see the real me, wearing a mask on top of a mask, never letting any one close, never letting them within my walls. It was all I knew, all I had been taught."
And if I told you that I loved youYou'd maybe think there's something wrong
I'm not a man of too many faces
The mask I wear is one
Those who speak know nothing
And find out to their cost
Like those who curse their luck in too many places
And those who fear are lost
The specters looked up and his green eyes caught and held brown ones, hard won wisdom shine from within their depths. "Depending on no one but your self is not a life; it is mere existence and a lowly one at that. What has happen in the past can not be changed, but the future is still un-written my friend. But if you stay on the track you are on, it will only lead you further into darkness and despair." As he slowly faded from view his voice linger for a moment. "Every time we open our selves up we risk being hurt, but without that risk you will never know what joys life also has to offer."
Walking back to the car Xander slipped behind the wheel. Leaning back he rubbed his hands across his face, thinking over what the ghostly specter had told him. He had been hurt so many times by people who told him that they loved him. By others who said they were friends but had let him down over and over again. It was so tempting to stop trying, to not let anyone else close to protect himself from any more heart ache. Cranking up the car, he heads back out towards the main road.
Behind him unseen, the figure of a gambler in a red coat watched him go; the air shimmered and around him six other men slowly appear. In silence they lend him their support; finally a blond man dressed all in black steps up and lays a hand on his shoulder. "You've done your best Ezra, now it's up to him to pick his own path." Sighing Ezra can only nod and casts a grateful look back at his six companions, a genuine smile graces his face at their concern looks. Walking forward to join them and the seven slowly faded from view. But not before the sound of the gamblers voice teasingly asking who was up for a game of poker could be heard.
End.
Group: Sting
Song: Shape of my heart
