Wall
G, 300 words, Bruno
They’re creepy. Giant stone effigies meant to represent what he does for the town, what he is to them. Round emerald eyes, gaping mouths, horrified at what they’re seeing.
His room is creepy even without the statues. Even without the gastly lighting.
Visitors don’t like coming up here, don’t like the winding stairs and don’t like the towering men staring them down as they walk the path to his vision cave.
It’s not the first time Bruno’s thought of knocking them down, but it will be the last.
He lifts the sledgehammer and takes his first swing at the mural.
--
He’s never had to help build houses before. His job has always been to look into the future. There’s no job for him in the present. He’s never had to build something up, raise his tools to help.
His visions never did anybody any good. The sorrow he sees must happen, can never be prevented, else it’s a paradox. It’s no surprise really when he angles this vision and cracks appear. All he’s ever done is mess things up.
It’s probably why the wall behind the painting comes down so easily.
A dark hole opens up and swallows him whole.
--
Bruno has never been so sweaty in his life, he doesn’t think. Hauling bags of sand to outline where the walls are gonna go aren’t followed up by sitting cross-legged by the fire and watching reality novelas in the sky. No, hauling stuff around is followed up by doing even more work.
His bones are achy from the effort the following days, but he loves it.
The kids laugh at Jorge, padre Flores thinks he’s doing great, and all his years in isolation fixing pipes and cracks and mazes have paid off. He can do this!
They really need him.
