Selene
The flaming madness of the suns true love.
One fine day the sun set its shining face upon Selene.
From that moment on, the sun, madly in love, shone for him and him alone.
But Selene, he knew nothing of this, and, had he known, the matter would have been of no concern to him whatsoever.
That is because he, Selene, loved himself at a level a thousand times more intense than even the flaming madness of the suns true love.
Such was Selene's life.
"The sun never flares but when it matters." he said to his friend Olax the Wise one day as they sat and discussed together the relevant consequences of metaphysical theosophy.
"But if that is so," said Olax, "then why tempt fate?"
"Better to live one day as a lion than a lifetime as a sheep!" said a voice from behind.
They turned to see a small, relentless old man, grown ugly and twisted with pain. He stood slumping sidewise in a shabby raincoat beneath a gnarled Elm.
"Good day, gentlemen," began the stranger, "but I chanced to hear the two of you discussing metaphysical theosophy and I could not prevent myself from the chance of partaking in the pleasure."
"You are welcome to join us," said Selene, "My name is Selene, and this is my friend Olax the Wise. We often visit this place in order to experience this pleasure and afford us this good work."
"Gentlemen," said the stranger, "I've just arrived from distant lands after a most terrifying and difficult journey, and I see that you have brought crumbs of bread to feed to the pigeons of this place. I wonder if I might partake of a few of them in order to assuage my own hunger, which I'll wager is greater than that of these semi-domesticated fowl, for I'm nearly starved."
"Could I buy you a coffee and donut?" asked Olax.
"coffee." said the stranger.
"Are you sure you wouldn't like some breakfast?" asked Selene
"No, thank you, just coffee and breadcrumbs."
"Are you sure you wouldn't like a nice, fresh donut?" said Olax.
"coffee." said the stranger
Selene handed the Stranger the bag of crumbs, and he began to eat them slowly, just a few at a time, while Olax trotted off to buy the Stranger his cup of coffee.
And so, as the Stranger performed his bizzare ritual and some minutes had gone by, the stranger began to silently weep into his bag of bread crumbs, even as he continued to eat. At length, he looked up tearfully and began to speak.
"Forgive me, Selene, but I am embarrassed by your generosity. I have not always been in the state of human wreckage you see before you today. I was raised in a small but prosperous village in Scotland, where as a child I displayed exceptional literary skill and competence. Later, I attended Oxford University on a full scholarship where I fulfilled my lifelong dream of becoming the poet laureate to the Society of St. James. I graduated at the top of my class, and was given a generous commission by the Crown. I then began the construction of what was to be my masterpiece, a sweeping historical epic of Robert the Bruce in pure pentameter verse!"
"However, before I could complete the final draft I was besieged by misfortunes greater than all those inflicted upon the innocent martyrs of the Roman Empire. My manuscripts, possessions and lodgings were burned by reactionary internationalists, and I was suddenly labeled a subversive artist and deported by my nation. I nearly drown when my boat was attacked by a band of paramilitary guerrillas, but I managed to swim 12 miles to a small island where I survived for 2 months on nothing but coconut milk and insects.
I was discovered by a Japanese fishing trawler and taken as a slave by the Captain, who was a giant homosexual Sumo wrestler. After he had his way with me, he traded me to a Jew for a case of Dominican Rum, and I was forced to run secret missions into Lebanon for a barber from Tyre."
"That's quite a tale," said Olax, who had just returned with the coffee.
"It would make quite a story." suggested Selene.
"I have no doubt you believe my story is a tale that has grown with the telling, and yes, a tale twisted with torture and rape, madness and grief, heartache and sorrow." said the stranger, "But there is one thing, one thing my friends, one thing that I have salvaged from the wreckage of my miserable existence."
Beneath his furrowed brow his black eyes darted back and forth, furiously as a squirrels tail. "One thing that still gives me hope."
He reached into his tattered raincoat and produced a tiny key.
"I hold in my hand the key to a jewelry case. Inside the jewelry case is hidden a map."
"A map?" said Selene, who had a passing interest in cartography, "What sort of map?"
The stranger fixed his wild stare on Selene and held it there. "The map, my boy," rasped the stranger, "is the map to the treasure of Thurins Bane!"