Tuesday, August 30, 2005

A hard lesson

The stubborn donkey wouldn’t budge despite Juan’s lulls and bribes. It was a hot day. The sun angrily beat down on the comedic duo: one anxiously glancing forward toward the eerily empty road ahead, pressing onward, and the other dumbly looking back, committed to those roads already traveled – those paths already deemed safe. Juan could feel his impatience slowly turning into rage. Despite his beckoning, pleading, and assertive commanding, the burro remained rooted in the caked earth, his passionless black eyes coldly revealing nothing. Juan turned and walked toward the back of the ramshackle cart. With a huff he unsnapped the whip from it’s home below the box where he stored his tools. He walked back around behind the cart with a deadly gleam in his eye fully prepared to vent a lifetime of frustrations on the poor beast.

“All right you have a choice. You can pull the cart and we will proceed to San Luis or you can continue to dumbly sit and be punished for your defiance.”

The donkey casually looked back, his tail swatting at a pesky horsefly.

“Fine.”

Committed to his decision Juan reached back and with all of his strength lashed the donkey’s back. The donkey stiffened for but a second, his emaciated body attempting to lessen the cruel sting of the whip. A bloody, raw line remained in the donkey’s soft brown fur along the length of his bony spine. Despite the throbbing pain the donkey was resolute. His black eyes gazing forward, revealing nothing. This steadfastness… this "defiance"…. only fueled the fire that had begun raging inside Juan’s soul.

He lashed the donkey again. And again he was met with stoic silence and unwavering stillness.

Juan became angrier, driven down the dangerous path of unthinking blind rage he continued to whip the donkey. Blow after devastating blow was rained upon the poor beast’s back, sides, and rear. Where once the donkey’s coat was a perfect, velvety brown, it was now a marred landscape of gory skin and a sickeningly thick layer of sticky, matted blood. The donkey’s knees buckled. The rickety cart tipped over and the contents spilled. The combination of the heat, the pain of the numerous wounds, and the stinging bites of a thousand horseflies that now covered his broken skin, drawn by the scent of blood, was too much to bear.

Exhausted and out of breath, Juan leaned forward and rested his hands on his knees. He wiped his mouth and angrily spit a thick clump of bile and saliva onto the cracked dirt. He blankly stared at the pitiful donkey that now lay on the ground wheezing in pain, disoriented and scared. As the adrenaline ran its course in his bloodstream, reality began to set in. “What have I done?” He thought to himself. His pensiveness was interrupted by a voice behind him.

“ Where are you headed on this hot day?”

Juan turned to see a man, finely dressed in black slacks and a crisp white shirt. He was clean shaven, his hair carefully combed. The man had handsome features and wisdom in his eyes.

“ Oh, I didn’t see you there. We travel to San Luis. I have work waiting for me.”

The mysterious man’s eyes flitted from the cart, to the bleeding donkey, back to Juan. “ You’ll be there in no time at this rate.”

“ If you’d like to help you may, otherwise proceed on, your sarcasm does not humor me.”

“ I won’t help you but I offer you this advice. San Luis is closed to outsiders. The town has been struck with the plague. All of its inhabitants are dead or dying, including the rats. Only the cockroaches remain. You may continue on if you’d like, although I assure you, the consequences will be dire.”

Juan paused. A bead of sweat slowly ran down the length of his face, beaded on his chin, and then, as if in slow motion, fell to the earth.

The stranger continued. “Perhaps in the future you should stop and listen. Be mindful of your anger and observe the wisdom you’ll invariably find all around you. Now you are left with nothing except a long walk home, wherever that may be.” As he said this he nudged toward where the donkey lay. Juan followed the man’s gaze. The poor animal was no longer breathing. His service to Juan forever ended. Once proud and faithful, now merely a meal for the flies and vultures.

Juan turned back to address the man only to find he had vanished.

Juan was left standing in the hot sun, his upturned cart, spilled wares, and a dead donkey his only company.

18 comments:

Hermes said...

Vex. I wouldn't be so sure about that, unfortunately.

However, isn't it odd how animals can predict natural disasters?

-G.D. said...

How inspiring, Hermes.

Reminds me of the constant struggle between my spirit and my ego. My spirit often needs rest and time to take in the experience, but my ego beats it with sticks of self-loathing and lack of respect, for fear of losing control of "it"....One blow after the next.

Very interesting that Juan never claimed responsibility for the disaster...The true mark of ego. Our suffering is always someone else's fault...Never our own.

emeralda said...

it sounds maybe like a story or tale or whateva but it most certainly is not.
i can tell by own experience.
great writing hermes, once again.
thank you
piranha

Adrian said...

I liked this one a lot. A story with a lesson learned...Are your difficult times over?

MrRyanO said...

Twice the donkey had a chance to say something and remained silent...what an ass. :)

Hermes, good story! Who was the disappearing stranger at the end?

jazz said...

i don't like animals dying....

so sad...

The Snakehead said...

I'm curious as to what the donkey, Juan and the sage representing.

Very nice written, H. Very nice.

Adams Avenue said...

Ohhhh! The poor donkey. He was just trying to save his master from the plague.

Isn't it amazing how actions speak louder than words?

A tough lesson for myself to learn.

WordWhiz said...

What a great story. There are so many parallels to be drawn...they are nearly endless. This was just excellent.

Steve and I both like these posts we understand without reading a dozen times...and then still being uncertain that we've grasped the meaning you intended. Thank God for Steve! I hate being the only one who isn't always able to get it!!

Hermes said...

G.D. Glad you were inspired. It comes in different forms... inspiration. Sometimes bittersweet, always enlightening.

Piranha. Just a tale... a parable.

Aydreeyin. One form of difficulty has been replaced with another. Thanks Aydreeyin.

Rockdog. Who knows? A ghost?

Jasmine. In part 2 the Donkey is resurrected and kicks some ass.

Steve. I'm glad you got something out of it.

Vexation. Nah, no point. Just a random string of nonsensical events. Divination is up to you... or your donkey.

Snakehead. Well what do they mean to you? These characters are metaphors for people in my life... the events in this piece hold a hidden, special significance to me... and hopefully to them.

Colonialave. Perhaps. But poor Juan didn't thoroughly think out his actions and look where it led him... he followed the passion in his heart and it backfired. Is this always wise?

Wordwhiz. What if I want you and Steve to read my posts about a dozen times? ;)

jazz said...

oh hooray! i know that the donkey dying wasn't the main point of the story, but i really can't stand violence against animals, even fictional ones. i really cringed with this one...

MrRyanO said...

Hermes, in your reply to Colonialave, you said "...he followed the passion in his heart and it backfired. Is this always wise?"

Mind if I jump in here and add my 3 cents?...and maybe this is just the Rock God in me speaking, but I could not live knowing that I didn't follow my passion...life is too long to live with too many "what could have been" questions. Metaphorically speaking, you sometimes kill your donkey in pursuit of your passion, but sometimes you get the Gold. Either way, thanx for making us think!

Rock ON!

Adams Avenue said...

I believe thoroughly that by following your heart you are truly following your own desire. No matter what the circumstance there is always risk invovled.

Sometime's your Juan, sometimes you're the donkey. What can I say?

Life plays out the way it does, and people move on. They learn from experience and heartache.

Is it wise? You're asking the wrong person. :) I'm one to give in quickly to what my heart wants.

Scribe Called Steff said...

H, I don't know about all this "I liked this" and "nice" stuff.

It's flat-out the best writing you've done in some time. Period.

A couple things could use tightening and tweaking, and I've only skimmed 'cos a guy's about to pounce on my doorstep, but shit. I don't know if you've ever read Cormac McCarthy, but this is very evocative of him. It's like Blood Meridien-lite.

Of course, that might just be because it's got donkeys and carts and shit, heh, but I think it does have that tone. The matted bloody fur, etc.

And what's really great about it is that it's DIFFERENT from the rest of what you do.

Animals die, and they die shitty working deaths, particularly in rural places, and places in the past -- which this also evokes, a different place and time. (Like McCarthy, too.)

And it's nice to see you going in a bold direction. I dig it. Well done.

The Cunting Linguist.

Valerene said...

poor donkey!

i've seen pictures of elephants crying in thailand. those animals, though called sacred to the people there, are trained to work their asses off every day of their lives till they can't do their jobs anymore. when they are old, they are sold to people who eat beef. how ironic, eh?

Rae Ann said...

hermes, you are a master at storytelling! And you seem to be so well plugged into the collective conscious/unconcious. These are times of desperation.

Unknown said...

interesting meeting with the Devil... i wonder why he was nice to Juan?? maybe his is not done with him yet.

Autumn Storm said...

Exceptionally sorrowful and as always very well-written. Not only animals - humans too, if they let themselves apparently have the ability to predict disaster.