The Change Cup

I don't know part 2

Ben believed that everything worked out in the end. His mind had been corrupted by hundreds of movies cursed with fairy tale endings. He completely ignored the dark of the world all together. With his blissful ignorance, Ben became a model American. He believed that the cursed souls who were less fortunate than him were stuck in that state only because they were inferior to him. He ended up becoming a wealthy man through the many benefactors of his life. He rose to the top of a company run by his uncle. He married a woman and fathered some children. He taught the boys to be strong and he bought makeup to make sure that his girls were pretty, which he believed were the correct roles for each gender. He allowed his wife to talk, but stared blankly when she spoke. He preached to his friends that the potheads should be shot, and the liberals hanged. Ben only gave wealth after  making sure that what he donated to could give back to him financially. Ben truly was a lost soul, who loved nothing but his riches.

On a cold November day, when clouds covered the sky and the rain poured down in an unforgiving manner, drenching the residents of the urban jungle which is New York, Ben found himself on his way home from work with no ride. He had asked his lowers, expecting them to leap at the chance of giving their superior a ride to their destination. Much to his dismay, none of his subordinates rushed to his aid, so he was stuck traveling on foot. He walked with his shoulders pulled up to his head, mumbling and grumbling about the ungrateful sods who refused to taxi him home. His disposition was dreary and he was seeking anything that he could attack. His gaze set upon an old man who had the misfortune of asking him a simple question.

“Ec’use me sir, woud ya take the time an spare some change?” The old man’s voice had a gravely quality to it which sent Ben into a frenzy.

“No I won’t. Your immense failure should not, and will be at my expense. Now good day sir.”

“Ples sir, only a dollar. That’s all I need.” While saying this, the old man held out a cracked mug which rattled as he moved it. Ben, who now was red with rage, slapped the cup out of the man’s hand. The mug shattered upon impact with the wet pavement. The few coins that the man had collected scattered, and were swiftly lost among the jostling capitalists of the city. The man looked among the wreckage with hurt eyes. You see, this was not the first time the old man had been on the receiving end of terrible cruelty. Many times before the poor old man had been subject to violence from the humans around him. The old man sighed and began to pick up the closest coins. He lifted the various values with his grimy fingernails. Ben did not look behind him as he walked away.

That night Ben had a truly terrifying dream. It began with him falling into a deep dark abyss. As he plummeted at an incomprehensible speed, he had time to view the walls surrounding him. On these walls were the faces of people who registered a slight familiarity in his mind. All of the faces which he saw had the same ghostly appearance. Their skin was pulled back into their heads, causing their cheekbones to jut out. Their eyes were glossed over, giving them a death like look. Most of them had their hair shaved down to the scalp. He could not see below their neck, but he had a feeling that their body resembled what he could see now. After falling for what seemed like eternity, Ben found the bottom of the gaping hole. Upon impact Ben felt no pain. He stood for a moment taking in his surroundings. Everything was painted a black which seemed to envelope him. A light fog wafted around him, and he could make out figures deep within the mist. The shapes were moving close to him and they began to take form. He could now see that they were humans. Upon seeing them clearly, he let out a bloodcurdling screech. All around him stood the faces which he had seen during his fall. Only now he could see the rest of them. All of the bodies were extremely malnourished. Ben could clearly see their ribcages. They had no meat on their earthly figures, and you would easily be able to wrap your hand around their biceps. Their torsos were covered with splotches of different color, and they all had a thick layer of dirt covering their entire body. Most were children, but there were a few men and women scattered among the mass. They all converged on Ben. He could not scream as his throat had constricted in fear. They reached their grimy hands towards him, and he felt their razor like fingernails break skin.

Ben awoke in a cold sweat. The sun was attempting to break through the curtains, and it put the room into a hybrid form of darkness. A bit of the light put a fell onto his wife who was soundly sleeping next to him. The world was blissfully unaware of the horrors which Ben had just witnessed. When he found himself at work, Ben learned that he had no one to share his terrifying visions with, as nobody had the desire of turning their ear to hear what he had to say. All of these people turning their shoulders to Ben's pleas had a grand reason for doing so. As I’ve said before, Ben was a terrible person who cared for no one but himself. His coworkers had reached the point of ignoring everything that Ben said.

Ben had the dream the next night, and the night after that. He could not escape it, no matter how much self medicating he engaged in. No amount of alcohol could dull his mind enough to avoid the dream. Every night for a month he witnessed the same horrific events. Ben slowly began to lose his mind. He began to see a shrink, who attempted to root out the past event which this dream stems off. His efforts were of no avail. Fearing for the health of the children, Ben’s wife left for her mother's house in northern Maine. While she was in the midst of leaving, Ben took to shouting obscenities at her and his very own blood. She ended up departing without a goodbye, leaving Ben to sob alone on the grand staircase which he had spent many hours boasting about.

With his last ties to sanity gone with his family, Ben completely lost his mind. He began to see the bodies of his dreams during broad daylight. There was nowhere and no one for to turn too. He lived in this state of pure terror for about a day. When he finally stopped running about the house in order to catch his breath, the crowd of bodies parted for a stronger presence. Through the bodies stepped the old man. The old man had ditched his earthly attire and stood before Ben, showing him the disgustingly hungry body which he possessed. Ben screamed at the top of his lungs, sending the dogs of his apartment building into a frenzy. The old man approached him and set his bony hand onto Ben. Looking into the eyes of man, Ben realized his folly. He realized that he was of the devil, and here he shall die by the hands of the angels. He went into a blubbering frenzy of empty promises and pleads to any God that happened to be listening. The man removed his hand from Ben’s shoulder and placed it onto his now wet cheek.

The End

Reviews

[SweetNutmeg]

This is an interesting tale, but it left me wondering a few things. First I wondered about Ben's genesis. Was he really born of the devil? That feels inconsistent. It seemed like he was conditioned by the world around him, if that makes sense? Watching those movies led him astray. To do the devil's work, yes, but not actually born of the devil. I guess that's me being persnickety. I also wondered if the old man's touch upon his cheek was compassionate. That's a really cool end to the story, leaving me wondering about that. My only other comment is that using "Republican" sort of limits the story to a certain time and place, making it less universal.