Chapter 7

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Flann had no answers.

When asking questions

Flann had no answers

When asked a question

Flann wished he’d died of cancer

When asked in elementary school what he wanted to be when he grew up, Flann did not respond.  The other children turned and stared at him, the teacher stood, waiting patiently.  His feet burned.  His seat itched and he longed to run.  Effluent sweat slicked his palms.  Tears welled up in his eyes like earthworms after a rain.  Flann had never thought of growing old.

Blank face, Blank face have you any sense?

If you had three pence

For all your silence

You could afford an answer

Flann did grow old.  However, he finished elementary school first.  Flann had an insatiable appetite for books.  He read in the afternoons and before going to sleep.  He read in waiting rooms.  He read the cereal box as he ate his cereal.  He read the newspaper.  He read the funnies.  Sometimes his parents suggested he not read so much, but they didn’t want to push the matter as they felt it was better to read too much than to not read at all.  Flann went to a nice elementary school and many of the other kids were also avid readers.  Upon completing elementary school, he went on to middle school.  In middle school he made rather different sorts of friends, friends of the type which he had previously not known existed.  They asked: “Why do you read so much?”  Flann stopped reading.

Flann loved apple pie very much

If you love it so, you should marry it

He wondered that he had no reason not to, and as such

Flann was uncertain why he did not propose

One weekend Flann decided to go rock climbing.  Flann was upbeat.  The sun shone and a cool breeze licked the heat away.  The air was fresh and crisp with autumn, leaves dazzled in their new clothes, swirling about to see and be seen.  He was accompanied by his girlfriend who had never looked more lovely with her hair gleaming irridescent in the light and by their mutual friend, a rugged outdoorsman and lumberjack in a former life.  They hiked a winding path replete with streams and waterfalls and vistas and wildlife and joy.  The birds sang their hearts out and squirrels threw nuts against rocks in percussive accompaniment.  They picknicked at a mountain stream, fondly splashing at each other and squeezing life from every moment.  Upon reaching the rock which they desired to climb, they buckled up tight and double checked all safety precautions.  Lumberjack up first, girlfriend up second, Flann bringing up the rear.  They were all experienced climbers and the rock was steep one so that they might revel in the exertion.  About midway up Flann brought his pick up with his right hand, preparing to make a grove for his hand where he could not find one, having veered slightly away from the path of his friends.  As he struck down, the rock under his left hand crumbled and he fell towards his now unsupported side.  This changed the angle of his strike and he hit his safety rope square on, severing it.  Flann tumbled down, bouncing off a bush growing out of the rock and launching into a grove of trees.  The boughs and branches cut at him as they slowed his momentum and he landed in the middle of the mountain spring.  His friends rappelled down to him as fast as they could.  They met up with him just as he pulled himself out of the spring.  His girlfriend threw her arms around him and hugged him tight.  He was sore and scraped, but otherwise unharmed.  His friend gaped: “Dude, how are you even alive?!”  Flann glassy-eyed the distance, tight lipped, and became afraid of heights.

Flann awoke and screamed

What is it, she asked

But Flann had no reply

He did not know if it was what it seemed

Flann met a friend in the streets.

“Hey, I heard you and your girlfriend broke up, what happened?”

“I don’t know.”

Flann didn’t know.

Flann was babysitting his niece

“Why is the sky blue?”

Flann looked down and without reply

Began to study his shoe

Flann went to church and they asked: Do you know why you’re here?  He turned and walked back out.  Again out on the streets he began searching, searching for the place where they asked no questions, searching for where they had only answers, searching for where they expected nothing of him.

Flann had his own headstone engraved

Out of desperate fear

That should another do it

It would read “Who lies here?”

~ by Andrew on 28 September 2008.