A young man walked into a tent, uninvited. Sitting silently in contemplation was another. Disturbed from his meditation, the man in the tent sighed and looked up inquiringly. He was annoyed, but acquiescent. The man who had entered spoke: "Are you the one they call Johannes Grisebach?"
"My name is of little importance. What do want with me?"
"It has been claimed that you can command the winds and the clouds--"
Johannes chuckled, "Who says such things?"
The young man was surprised. "I had heard that it had come once from your own mouth. Am I mistaken?"
Grisebach responded absently, "I have made no claims of my own abilities; perhaps, I have repeated claims made by others. I place little importance on the discourses of men."
"So, then, are the claims not true?"
"I have made no such statement."
"Are they?"
Grisebach chuckled again, mysteriously. "Perhaps."
"You see, I come from a village where it hasn't rained for a long time. My father is an elder; he had heard of your abilities. I-- my village, was hoping you could help us out. We could give you cattle... Or gold, or, or anything you want."
Grisebach looked into the young man's eyes, into his soul. After an infinite moment, he smiled sadly, paternally. "I'm sorry; your village has nothing I desire."
"Nothing you desire? Or nothing that will induce you to aid us?" the young man replied hotly.
"Nothing I desire."
"There must be something you seek; perhaps we can lend men who can aid you-- I myself am willing if you would protect our village."
"I seek only the Path."
"The Path?"
Grisebach sighed; so young, so devoid of understanding. Alas. "In the East, they call it jihad; further east still, enlightenment. the Jews call it, depending, Cabala, The Word, or Elijah's Spirit, there are other names in other places; but you do not care for such things."
The young man was desperate. "Is there nothing we can do?"
"Nothing." The voice was firm. The young man's heart nearly shattered.
"Then goodbye, sir." The young man turned slowly and left the small tent. Grisebach fell back into his meditations.
As the young man made the weary journey to his home, he stopped in a town where a woman was praising a strange man she had met at a well. In his melancholy, he noticed nothing else. When he returned to his village it had rained.
Johannes continued his search.
*-*-*-*-*
Obviously, Johannes is a reference to The Rose. Obviously, also, there is a jarring anachronism. Who cares?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
5 comments:
Beautiful story. I assume this is Borhes? Just as the Rose..
I'm glad you like it. I had nearly forgotten about it, actually, so thanks for reminding me. :)
Anyway, the story is mine, but Johannes Grisebach is supposed to be based on the character from the Rose and the alchemist (I forget his name) from Coelho's The Alchemist. The strange man at the well is supposed to be Jesus...
Cheers.
I'm sorry Cory but saying this story is your's is a bit of a stretch. The words might be your's but Grisebach, his first sentence, and the overall structure of the story is a sad attempt to recreate Borges' story "The rose of Paracelsus" under different circumstances.
I agree completely with Anonymous. I would go a step farther and call it a vile plagiarism.
Rather than a "vile plagiarism," it is a clever sequel to the story by Borges. How fitting that the young Grisebach grew with age into a counterpart of the Paracelsus he once confronted as the young man here confronts him.
Post a Comment