Hector

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

A moment in time passes between a frustrated writer and his imaginary friend, the steel armoured kangaroo, Hector.

Hector

 

The window had been built just above the door to a house. It was a broad window, a little greasy, but only from neglect by the owners with regards to cleaning. Sunlight poured through, the clear blue sky clearly visible beyond the beams of light. Just below the window, selections of large thick coats hung from hooks on the back of the door. 

Ted is lying on the floor.

 

“I’m staring at the window above our front door. The light is shining through. The coats are hanging from hooks on the door. I just sit and stare at the coat hooks and the coats that hang there. And I stare at the daylight pouring in through the window. To lay here on the floor and stare up to the window above the door and see the shining light. That’s the path I am now travelling. I want to be in the light. Not some metaphysical nonsense to do with Heaven. I don’t believe in God or God as you probably purvey him, her, it or them. I believe that we are all part of one giant being, experiencing life as it happens to further the beings experience, and that we can help each other because we all carry a part of the infinite within us. But there are many people who don’t believe it or won’t show it. That’s why I never know if I am trapped here or not. So I stare at the light looking for an answer.”

 

Ted sits quietly on the park bench, staring at a wall nearby. The wall has the scene of a black child screaming into a crowd of white people painted on to it. Graffiti by some of the local kids no doubt. The art is exquisite, if graffiti can be called such a thing. Sat next to Ted, the ten foot, steel armoured kangaroo, Hector, stares off into the distance as well. Plumes of pipe smoke drift off from the ornate pipe that is clenched in Hectors huge grey hands. No one seems to notice the two companions sat on the bench.

 

“I had an experience this afternoon Hector. My brother and I sat down to watch our third film of the day. I have been going through some things of late. Pressure to be something I’m not. But I put pressure upon myself to be something that I know I can be, and somehow that something got mixed up along the way and I have become the thing that maintains, until the thing I want to be, comes along. Do you see?”

Hector sits quite still for a moment.

“I see,” Hector eventually replies. He pauses again, just for a short moment.

“But do you see?” asks the kangaroo quizzically.

 

“It’s not what I saw, it’s what I realised. I have loved films and watched them as far back as I can remember. I have seen so many, I have forgotten more films than people could possibly name. There are films I wish I could remember, because when people mention a film to me and talk about it to me, sometimes the best I can say is “I’ve seen it and it was good” or “I’ve seen it and I didn’t think much of it” or “I’ve seen it but your gonna have to remind me of some of the things that happened in it, as it’s been so long”.”

“You’re straying from the point” Hector mused.

Ted turns and glares at Hector, a look of animosity and frustration upon his face.

A moment longer passes and Ted slowly turns back to look off into the distance again. Hector remains unmoved.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Yes, I am. Thank you. I realised this afternoon that I have been watching films for so long, that I have become a bystander. Audience, if you will. I realised that I don’t want to be audience. I want to be the one making the film. But I’ve also realised that the time has come to stop being a bystander. And it scares me. Normally I think I have time on my side but that is slipping away too. I had dreams of being able to play certain roles. But those times are fast approaching when it may not be a possibility. I have to hurry. The pressure I put myself under is overwhelming.”

“You need plans.”

“I know. I should stick to these things.”

Ted reaches into his jacket pocket and takes out a stick of gum, which he rolls up into a tight ball, and then places in the corner of his mouth, just under the gum, beside one of his wisdom teeth.

 

“You shouldn’t stick to plans. They should happen because you want them to happen.”

“You know that’s not how it works, Hector.”

Ted chews his gum voraciously.

Hector sits, perfectly still, the odd waft of pipe smoke floating past them both. Hector places the pipe on an invisible shelf just to the left of his elbow, where it sits quite contentedly, hardly throwing up a wisp.

“Yes, I know. But I also know that you have reached a time where you can’t go back. Where you no longer wish to watch.”

“So this is the time?”

“Yes. Take this and make it happen. It is time to send messages. Film will create in you what you need. Then you will create in film what you need. That will then create in people what they need and that will create in the world what God needs. Do you see?”

A smile steals itself across Ted’s face.

“Yes. Thank you Hector.”

“And its ok, you’re writing this as you think of it. You’re not schizophrenic.”

“I hope not. I do worry.”

“Don’t worry. It’s on paper. The rest of the time you like to be left alone.”

Ted hesitates for a brief moment.

“I’m still scared.”

Hector turns and takes up his pipe again, staring out over the valley. Ted stares with him.

 

The sun sets a little more. The breeze gently rustles the trees overhead.

 

The Beginning. 


Submitted: November 05, 2015

© Copyright 2021 Sabre Kazabian. All rights reserved.

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