[snip]

And now for something completely different.  A teaser:
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Blue Sonnet...Tangent

Disclaimer:  The characters and situations of this story
belong to David Johnston.  All rights reserved.  


My back was turned to the light as I looked out into the
darkness.  The bridge on which I stood was a dividing
line between them.  On one side, a great city swarmed, 
blazing with life while on the other a few lonely sparks 
drowned in the blackness of the ocean.  

<Are you going to die?>  The whisper in my mind didn't
feel like a product of my imagination.  A little 
girl's voice, asking the kind of question children ask 
before we've finished training them into dishonest 
maturity.  

"Not just yet," I answered aloud.  Of course if she was a 
figment then she could easily know what was on my mind.
How easy it would be to just grab hold of the railing,
swing myself out, let go, and fall into the black water
flowing out from the city.  Easy.

<You can hear me?  And you're alive?>

"So far."  I glanced over at her.  She was sitting on
the edge, swinging her feet.  I might have warned her to
get back, except that I could see the faint outline of
the bridge through her body.  Whether or not it was 
evidence that she wasn't real, it was proof enough for me
that she didn't have worry about falling off a bridge.

She'd been following me since last night; haunting me
as I wandered through the city, trying to find the words
to say what I wanted to say.  Writer's block was keeping
me alive.  It wasn't that I wanted to die, so much as that
I couldn't stand to live.  The world around me seemed so
hollow that when I thought about it, I had to admit that
I was using it as a mirror.  There was little question in
my mind that it would be better off without me.

Before I went, though, I wanted to leave something behind.
The last scrap of my vanity was tying me to the world.
I was a poet, you see, and wanted to write a farewell to
the world that would move someone to think that the world
was losing something in me.  Just one poem to make someone
care.

Juvenile, I know, but self-absorbtion is the wellspring
of immaturity, and nobody is more self-absorbed than one
intent on suicide.  So for months I tried and failed to
come up with the right note to end my life, and somewhere
along the way, I started to see them.  Most of them weren't
as solid as the little girl.  Shadows and shimmers and 
things half glimpsed, wandering unnoticed through the light.  
I usually tried to ignore them.

<Can you help me?  I'm lost.>

This one was getting hard to ignore.  
____________________________________________________________

In response, I thought I would post a fanciful story which I heard related 
to me, not long ago...

Disclaimer:  The characters are not mine, and the story has been 
slightly edited.  :-)

Once upon a time, a long time ago, there lived a man named Jacob.

Jacob had an older brother named Eustace, who made his living by 
hunting.  He was a fine marksman with his bow and arrow, and a rough-
cut, handsome fellow.  Jacob himself was a farmer and a shepherd; and 
was a very plain-looking man.

The brothers had grown up together, always competing with one another 
to see whom mom and dad would love best.  Isaac their father loved 
Eustace, but Rebecca their mother loved Jacob.  Thus, the family was 
divided and in constant strife.

Jacob and Eustace were twins.  Even before they were born, a strange 
prophecy foretold that the younger brother would eventually come to 
prosper far above the elder.  Nevertheless, Isaac and Eustace paid little 
attention to the prophecy.

Eustace was a very carefree man, never thinking of tomorrow, but 
always living for today.  He trusted in himself to provide for everything he 
needed, and refused to rely on anyone else.  Certainly not Jacob, who 
continually teased him about how great he would be someday, and how 
Eustace himself would never amount to anything.

It came to pass that Eustace had not caught anything substantial for 
several days.  Game was strangely scarce in the surrounding forests, 
and he had been forced to subsist on the meager scraps of duck that he 
had killed during that time.  Finally giving in to hunger, he went to his 
brother Jacob, whose goats had multiplied with little, if any, sickness or 
deformity, and whose crops were the envy of the tribes round about 
them.

Eustace meekly asked for a bowl of soup, hoping to owe Jacob as little 
as possible.  Jacob laughed, and taunted him mercilessly.  "Has the 
mighty hunter been reduced to porridge?"

Eustace cursed, and demanded food.  "Then promise me your family 
inheritance!" Jacob shot back.  "Done," Eustace replied, and grabbed 
for the soup.  "It's little good to me if I'm dead of starvation!"

Jacob laughed all the more.  "I told you so!  I told you I'd be greater than 
you could ever hope for!"

Eustace scowled, and stalked away with his hard-won bowl of soup.

Years later, as their father was advancing in years, he decided that it 
was time to pass on his inheritance.  Secretly calling Eustace, he 
asked him to catch his favorite -- deer -- and make Isaac a final supper.  
Isaac then promised that Eustace would have earned his share of the 
inheritance.

Rebecca overheard them conspiring, and called Jacob into the house 
after Eustace had gone.  She told Jacob everything Isaac had said, and 
then explained that they would trick Isaac into giving everything to Jacob 
instead.  Isaac was nearly blind, and hard of hearing, so it wouldn't be 
all that hard for Jacob to pretend that he was Eustace.

Jacob thought differently.  "I'm nothing like him!  He's big and hairy and 
rude and crude, and I'm not!"

"No trouble at all," Rebecca answered smoothly.  "Just wear a bit of 
goat skin when you go in to see him, and put on one of his cloaks, 
that's all."

"And the venison he wants?" Jacob said.

"Let me doctor up some lamb, and we'll give your father that instead," 
Rebecca replied.

Shaking his head, Jacob muttered, "He'd better not find us out."

"He won't," Rebecca assured him, winking slyly.  "Now go bring in one 
of your firstlings!"

Jacob did as he was told.  Rebecca prepared the meal, and Jacob 
brought it in to his father's room.

"Here's your venison, father," Jacob said huskily.

Isaac wasn't buying it.  "Who are you, my son?"

"I'm Eustace, your firstborn!  Come on.  Sit up, and eat this venison that 
I made for you."

"How did you find it so quickly?"  Isaac asked him suspiciously.

"How does any fine hunter catch his prey?"  Jacob replied jokingly.

Isaac still wasn't buying it.  "Come here, and let me feel your hands and 
your neck."

Jacob walked over to his father's bed, and knelt down.

Isaac felt the goat skin that Jacob was wearing, smelling the scent of 
the fields on Eustace's cloak, and smiled.  "It is you!  Ah, my son, my 
firstborn!"

"Of course it is," Jacob answered.

With that, his father began to eat.  Jacob brought him wine to drink, and 
they made merry together for nearly an hour.  Then, Isaac soberly called 
to his son.

"Eustace, you know that I intend to leave my house to you.  It's yours 
by right, since you are the oldest.  Take care of Rebecca, and do what 
you can with Jacob.  He's a good boy."

And with that, Isaac handed Jacob the tokens of his estate.

Jacob thanked his father, and departed.  No sooner had he left, then 
Eustace finally returned, coming in to see Isaac.

"Father!  It's me, and I've brought you the venison you asked for," 
Eustace said.

"Eustace!"  Isaac said in astonishment.  "Then...who was here before 
you?"

Eustace's jaw dropped.  "No!  Father, you didn't give Jacob--"  Looking 
at Isaac's face, Eustace could see that Isaac had given everything to his 
brother.

Together, they wept bitterly.  Not long after, Isaac died of grief.

With a murderous hatred, Eustace chased his brother away from the 
family estate, into the wilderness.  Jacob barely escaped with his life.

Feeling very low, Jacob decided to go to his uncle's farm, on his 
mother's counsel.  "Wait there," Rebecca had said, "until he cools off.  
Then I'll send a servant to fetch you."

"And so, still carrying the tokens of his father's estate, Jacob arrived 
penniless at his uncle Lance's farm.

Lance welcomed Jacob with open arms, and invited him to stay as long 
as he wanted.  Slyly, Lance noted how Jacob's eyes wandered after 
Rachel, his younger daughter.  He decided on a scheme to get rid of his 
daughters, and to milk Jacob for all the labor he was worth.

Jacob stayed.  Being enamored of Rachel, it wasn't long before he 
asked Lance for her hand in marriage.  In those days, it wasn't frowned 
upon to marry cousins.

Lance agreed, but on one condition:  Jacob would work at his farm for 
seven years.  After all, Rachel should go only to the most deserving of 
men, and Jacob would have to prove himself!

Jacob agreed, since he was used to farm work already.  Winning 
Rachel's hand would be easy as pie!  Or so he thought.

Jacob was assigned to do the most menial work, the kind of work that 
only the lowest servants normally did.  He cleaned the dung from the 
horse stalls, and spread it over the fields as fertilizer.  He weeded the 
crops, uprooting the thorns and thistles that grew among them.  And he 
tended the goats, in fair weather or foul.

Jacob slowly learned the meaning of humility.

Seven long, weary years later, and a little wiser for the wear, Lance 
invited Jacob to a feast in Jacob's honor.  "Ah, the man who would 
marry my beautiful Rachel!"  Lance exclaimed.  "The hardest worker of 
them all!"

Jacob could only grunt in acknowledgement.

Later that night, after the feasting was over and the wine had ceased 
flowing freely, Lance presented Jacob his veiled bride.  "May she always 
make you happy!"

Drunkenly, Jacob staggered to his room, with his bride (who was also a 
little tipsy) in his arms.  With all of the ardor of a man who has 
restrained himself for far too long, he consummated the marriage.

The next morning, Jacob awoke to find...Leah, the elder sister, beside 
him!

Furious, he stormed into the house, demanding to see Lance.  When 
Lance finally deigned to see him, Lance candidly told him that it was 
unthinkable to marry the younger daughter away until the elder was 
safely wedded, herself.  Knowing that this was, indeed, the custom of 
the land, Jacob acquiesced.

"If you still want Rachel, you'll have to work another seven years for 
her," Lance stated firmly.  In their day, men usually had two or three 
wives.

Jacob returned to the fields for a further seven years.  When next he 
was invited to the wedding feast, he made very sure to identify the 
proffered bride as his lovely Rachel.

In all, Jacob ended up with four wives:  Leah and her maid Sylvia, and 
Rachel and her maid Bria.  And, in all, he ended up with twelve sons.  
But, because Rachel had only given birth to two sons, she was envious 
against Leah, who had given birth to four sons.

Thus, Jacob's family was divided, and there was continual strife, which 
grieved him very much.

But Lance's farm had prospered under Jacob's hand, and Lance was 
very reluctant to let him go.  They struck a deal:  Jacob and his family 
would remain, and would care for the farm, if Lance would give him all of 
the speckled goats.  Lance reluctantly agreed.

For another six years, Jacob worked Lance's farm.  The goats which 
were Jacob's became plentiful and strong, but Lance's goats remained 
few and weak.

Finally, in a great fury, Lance thrust Jacob out from his farm.  "Any 
more of this, and you'll be the end of me!"

Jacob could only reply that Lance had been the more dishonest one.  
So he left, taking all of his own goats, and his wives, and all of his sons, 
to return to his own house and farm.

As he began to draw near to the farm, he grew afraid.  "What if Eustace 
is still angry with me?", he thought.  "What can I do?"

Jacob decided to offer him a substantial portion of his goats, as a gift.  
"If I treat *him* as the better man, maybe he'll forgive me," he said to 
himself.

But Jacob was still afraid, so he separated his caravan and his family 
into two parts.  If Eustace and his servants were to attack one, then the 
other could escape unscathed.

Finally, Jacob decided to send two of his servants on ahead, to meet 
Eustace, and take the present of the goats with them.

When Eustace saw all of the animals, he was unsure what to make of 
it.  Seeing the two servants, he approached them.  "What's all this?"

They answered, "This is a present from Jacob, your brother.  He asks 
how you are, and if everything is well with the estate."

Eustace, bemused, replied:  "Everything is fine!  We have all we need; 
let Jacob keep his goats."

The servants were insistent.  "Our master wants to share what he has 
with you.  Please take them."

Eustace finally relented, and took the present.

And so, Eustace and Jacob were reunited.  Eustace had indeed been 
prosperous, and had made a name for himself as a fine hunter in the 
land.  So, they agreed to go their separate ways, having been 
reconciled to one another.

The moral of the story is thus.  Could anyone have known what sort of 
man Jacob would end up being, after all of his experiences?  Seeing the 
young, impudent, and brash younger brother, would anyone have 
believed that he would grow up to be humble and caring?

Would anyone be willing to say that Jacob would be better off dead, 
knowing all that he had experienced?  How about beforehand, not 
knowing what he would go through?

Then, let us all look upon ourselves and one another, seeing what we 
might become, rather than concentrating on all of our present faults and 
shortcomings.

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~ The Mouse (BTFH, APD) anime@mbay.net ~
~ Damon Casale      damoo@redshift.com ~
~     Squeek!  Pass the cheese...      ~
~   "You evil, EVIL man!" -- Foxtrot   ~
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