The Meeting

John meets Sven for the first time.

Chapter one: The meeting.

I'm sick of it. Sick of the endless social dances, the emotionless "Hellos" and "Goodbyes" which are just bullshit. The stupid little games people play when in love, if you can call it love. Does love really exist? Or is it simply lust? Pure animal instinct? The bond between a family, is it love? Or is it trust? My name is Gleck, a strange name I know, but my parents wanted to be original. Just like every other single f*****g parent out there. Why couldn't I have a normal name? Like John? James? Jack? Jim? Yes, I love the letter "J". It is original from the rest of the letters; please follow my train of thought now as this may be slightly strange. The letter J is simple, yet beautiful. Letters such as "R" and "G", "K" "W" "E" are just plain complicated. Idiotic and useless complications.  But enough random chit chatter. I'm writing this to tell you a story. Yes, A story. Another story to add to the endless list of stories which are more or less copies of each other. What is original about this story? Nothing. Stop reading now, this story is just a pile of bullshit added on top of more bullshit with extra "S", such a naughty letter, refusing to stay straight. The story starts in a little place I shall call Farlight. Does it exist? No, it does not, but this is my story, and since you kept on reading, you will read on what I write. Farlight is an island, an island surrounded by more islands. The island's inhabitants are dumbasses, including myself. Letting the puppet masters of modern culture pull our strings, we dance to their tune. Break away from the strings, and the masters will send the other puppets against you, who once were your friends. Either the strings get reattached, and all is forgotten and forgiven, or they break you, completely. What happened to me, you ask? I’m on the verge of breaking. This does not happen only on farlight, stranger. It happens everywhere. Who are the puppet masters? I’ll let you figure that out yourselves, for I’m not too sure.

On with the story, no? It starts on June 7^th, at exactly 5:55am. What am I doing up that early? Simple, the masters decided to give me a restless night, so their little puppets decided to blast music that makes angles scream and devils cry. At this point, I’m proud to say I’m no longer a puppet, yet that did not last for long, we’ll see onwards in the story. Art is dead. The musical beauty, the harmony between the musical notes and the voice of the singer, are fucked. Destoryed. Eliminated. The puppet masters do not want their puppets to see real beauty, so they turned it into endless cycles of unoriginality. There is no need to be creative anymore, everything is already done, just use what already exists, don’t you agree? You don’t? Well then read on my dear friend, you’re no longer a stranger. Ah, I see I have strayed away from my story. So after being waken up by the little puppets, useless to complain as the, I refuse to call it music, the mating noise of the puppets, perhaps? Whatever. The blasts of sounds waves almost perfectly designed to annoy me. It blanks out my words, I have no one to speak to in my small little apartment, but I cannot shout complaints, which will fall on highly damaged ears anyway, I decided to make the most of a bad situation, and go out for an early morning stroll. Of course, the streets are filled with intoxicated party goers. More puppets, a puppet master’s dream and my real nightmare, fill the street. Ignoring them is not easy, but I succeeded. After about a half an hour walk, I arrive at a location where no puppet even dares to enter. A place were abandoned and useless puppets, unusable with age, try to enjoy their final little freedom. A park, but not just any park, the pure nature’s park. In this park, also known to the puppets as “caveman land”, which is probably no longer used since I just learned it, technology is forbidden. Anything electronic, and I do mean anything, from electronic gadgets such as mobile phones and portable media players, to a simple watch, is not allowed to enter the park. All three entrances are fitted with metal detectors, and if technology is found, you will not be harassed, nor will you be cursed at, nor will your personal positions be taken. You will only be told to leave the park, strip away of the technological burden, and return. There are certain exceptions, such as pacemakers, which are allowed in the park. Despite being open air, smoking is forbidden. The local shops sell only natural foods, however bringing food form external sources is allowed. A pizza parlor took the advantage and opened only about a 2min walk away from one of the park entrances. As I arrive, the usual metal detection check is executed, and an all-day ticket fee of 5 Euros is bought. I walk to the nearest bench, take a seat and start enjoying one of the greatest joys the world has to offer, literature. The permanent storage of one’s thoughts in plain text. I’ll read 5 chapters, which normally takes me 1 to 2 hours, and then leave. Since watches are forbidden, and there is no central watch in the park, the concept of time is forgotten in here, and one has to use other ways to tell time, such as the time it takes me to read a chapter. ChapterHours, I’d like to call them(and so do others), is the time taken to read an average chapter(about 30 pages). 1 chapterhour, for me, is about 10-30mins, for another person it could be an actual hour! It depends on the reading speed of the person. The park is nothing special, yet at the same time it is beautiful. The park is nature at its purest, the flowers the trees the grass everything is left to grow wildly, no gardeners touch the park. Including a grand oak tree in one side of the park, which is rumored to be over 500 years old. A 500-year old branch, Perhaps 500 years ago the puppet masters did not exist? No, they did. I’m sure they did, I’m just failing to notice them or they were written away from the history books. Perhaps they were weaker. As I was about to get up to leave, since it just hit 3 chapterhours(chpthrs), I saw John, such a lovely name, walking towards me, waving. John is a puppet, that I know, but so am I. Yet Unlike the other puppets, John embraces creativity, and frowns upon the modern rituals they call art. However, he fails to see the puppet master above us, and has more than once accused me of being insane. Yet, our love for true art keeps us together. I enjoy the classical music from the great composers, John enjoys later works of art by other artists who use their real voice, and not a machine. Modern noise has ruined singing for me, and I fail to appreciate it.
“Gleck!” He yells, failing to pronounce my name for the thousandth time, yet I do not blame him, using such twisted letters.
“John my friend!, I was just about to leave.” I say happily.
“What are you doing this early? It has to be at least 7am, and you’re leaving?” He clearly just got here, still dazed.
“I’m sure it’s 7:30am!” Arguments over time haven often in the pure nature park, due to the lack of watches.
“It’s still too damn early for you!” He bursts
“Neighbors woke me up with a greeting of noise” I answer.
“I know what that feels like…yeah It’s just a warning of a s****y day”
“Thanks for the optimism”
“No problem! I have the day off, so I thought I’d take my kids out to the park”
And here’s the kicker. John doesn’t have kids, when he says “kids”, he is referring to the kids which are ALREADY in the park. John is a desperate father, he wants badly to have a child of his own blood, but refuses to adopt. Finding a decent wife and mother, especially with his taste, is next to impossible. So he often takes comfort by thinking of the children of the park as his own. He often plays with them, and he talks and plays to a certain few more then their own parents, whom are probably out enjoying the noise as they abandon their kids. In fact, let me tell you a little episode about john. There was this kid, about 13-14 years old in the park. His name was Sven, starting with the evil “S”. I knew he was trouble, and he also seemed, out of place, here in the park. John decided to go talk to him.
“Hey, first time here?” John asks.
“Yeah, what’s it to ya? Ruining your little paradise?” Sven Snaps.
“Of course not! I’m just always happy to see a new face in this park, people need to appreciate it a bit more, a few moments without technology everyday can do wonders!”
“I have to admit, it is a bit calming, I can’t remember the last time I went out without my phone or mp3 player.”
“Heh, so want me to show you a little of the park?” John offered dilightly.
“Why…Why would you do that? I’d be wasting your time.” Sven answered weakly.
“Wasting my..of course not! It’s not every day I have the opportunity to give a tour of this place, and especially to a youth!”
“I don’t need your ramblings about how life was back in your day,how old are you? 40?”
“32 my friend.”
 “Heh, 30 isn’t that old. ”
“Thank you!”
“Whatever, I’ll just take a look around myself.”
“Come on! I’ll show you around! No strings, or ramblings, attached!”
“Fine, better keep your word.” Sven answers, with anger yet a little happiness in his voice.
“Off we go, first to the oak!”
“Where?”
“Just follow me!”
So off John goes, with Sven close behind. I doubt those were the actual words spoken, as they sound if taken directly from a fairytale. They arrive at the great oak, and Sven looks in awe.
“S**t!” Sven gasps. “I saw this tree from afar, but up close, I never noticed how large it actually is.”
“Yes, that’s why it’s the grand oak! Cause it’s grand, and well..it’s an oak..so grand oak!”
“Wow, I never noticed” Spoken with extreme sarcasm.
“Pointing obvious things often leads to discovery of hidden facts” That is one of my sayings, which I highly suspect that John added it in the story just to play with my head. Sven’s version of the story varies greatly, but mainly because he refuses to tell the whole thing.
“I guess that makes some sense, in a strange sort of way”
“Can you guess how old the tree is?”
“How old the…what? How should I know?”
“You don’t. That’s why you guess.”
“I don’t know, 30 years?”
“Let me ask you a question, Sven. How large is the tree?”
“Pretty f*****g large.”
“So, how old do you think is the tree?”
“Pretty f*****g old.”
“And, as you said before, 30 isn’t old at all.”
“So…what a hundred?”

“multiply it by 5”
“500 years!? Are you serious?”
“That’s the legend.”
“Wow, I wonder…”Sven ponders.
“Yes?”
“This is crazy but, if the tree would talk, it would have loads of stories”
“And rambles, don’t forget rambles!”
They both laugh. The keep chatting each other up, mostly about life in the past, how harder yet at the same time simpler it seemed to be. Sven and John have kept meeting each other for a while, mind that I didn’t know John back then, as I had never entered the park before, so I never met Sven until much later. One day, however, Sven came to the park, desperately looking for John. I would also like to point out that I met John for the first time a couple of days ago. John is well known in the park, and John’s relationship with Sven is also well known, so his house is quickly pointed out. John finds Sven knocking at his door.
“Sven! Why, what do you need?”
“John, please, I’m begging you…can you let me in first?”
“Of course! Come in! Coffee? Tea?”
“Any chance you have a coke?”
“One coke coming up!”
As John goes to the kitchen to get the coke, Sven is shivering and shaking, with teeth chattering. John comes back with a glass of coke, fully with a slice of lemon and paper umbrella, John is like that.
“T..T..Thank you” Sven answers, ignoring the formalities of the drink has he gulps it down.
John clears his throat, which catches Sven’s attention.
“Sorry, I just..”
“It’s ok my friend, we all have bad days, what’s wrong”
“I’ve…Sven…I just came back from the hospital, they want me in a mental ward!”
“Why?”
“Multiple attempted suicides….It’s a long story”
“Then shorten it.”
“Well, I’ve just been so annoyed and fed up of everything! I feel like I’m trapped. Most people say that it’s normal. But I’m just tired of following everybody!”
“Can I ask you something Sven?”
“Of course.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s stupid! I just want to be me, but I can’t. I feel like I’m chained to the floor, and that each chain is holding down a different part of me.”
“Not that why, Why are you “trying to follow everyone”, as you said.”
“I try to..fit in...you know.”
At that John laughs hysterically.
“I met an interesting fellow at the park a few days ago.” He’s referring to me, of course.
“Oh? What does this have to do with anything!” Sven snaps angrily.
“Because, he spent the majority of our conversation saying that the majority of people are not people, but puppets.”
“Puppets?” Sven asks.
“Yes, Puppets, following these so called “puppet masters” He refuses to point them out because he believes one must find them himself.” At least, that part is true. I shall never directly reference to the puppet masters, no matter how cruel they become.
“Go on.” John got Sven hooked.
“Although the concept of a puppet master is downright strange, the fact that most people are puppets is very well true, as most people simply copy what other people do. You’re not trying to be a teenager, Sven. You’re trying to be a puppet that you’re not. Don’t be a puppet, it is that simple.”
“But then..who am I?”
“You are Sven! You love the music Sven loves, The clothing that Sven loves and the history that Sven loves!”
“I’ll think about this, thanks john”
“You’re most welcome, my friend. Please, I shall hear no more talk of any more attempted suicides, you shall come to me at once if such a thought occurs to you, understand?” John is becoming Sven’s other father.
“Yes, John. And Again I thank you.” And that’s the end of the story.

Reviews

[Hellslastwarrior]

Loved it very nice chapter good deloping characters there. I suggest get rid of this part I dont think its needed because youve done such a good way of developing your characters so far. "John is becoming Sven’s other father."
Good work laddy keep it up!