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Matthew Breit

General Manager

20

8

Between Great Acts Pt. 1 and 2

BETWEEN GREAT ACTS: 3rd Lesson (Twitter Length)

What happened was flowing, rising, and flourishing. "Sujata gave a stranger food,” is just cut water clinging to names.

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BETWEEN GREAT ACTS: 2nd Lesson (176 Words)

Here I lie, having left my companions, listening to the breeze, soft footsteps, and rustling plants.

Who carries these heaps of flesh and bone and blood from the road? Oh, kind child!

I am fed. I sleep and dream.

Bees gather honey in a great hive, watching helplessly as sticky muzzled bears eat their life’s labor in a few short bites. Sick with puss and blisters, a body, urgently sipping a crystal blue tonic, is healed completely. When the last gulp subsides, its blisters blossom again, fetid flowers, oozing and painful. A great hero collapses from fatigue as a world-healing jewel bears witness to his passing, still secure in its ancient crypt. A mendicant smiles and keeps walking, just walking. (What do you know radiant stranger?)

I am awake, grateful.

Here I lie, listening to the breeze, soft footsteps, and rustling plants. The road is neither to the North or South and great heroes travel kinder paths. I will walk the victorious road and show all who will see, having shown which roads lead to ruin.

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BETWEEN GREAT ACTS: 1st Lesson (277 words)

She found a body on the road; a man, fainted, quietly resting on the brink of death.

Skin and bones lifting skin and bones, she carried a body from the road.

To that starving body she gave food and drink. Some say "it was rich like milk and honey," others simply “rice."

Its sun-blackened, sickly flesh stretched taut over brittle bones and if the sun rose behind that body from the road, you might see right through to the organs pumping, could maybe watch blood crawling in its veins. It slept--dried, sunken eyes tucked into their sockets with heavy lids.

He awoke. He arose, restored.

His natural color was golden and radiant. You could say “he is pleasing to the eye”. People will one day turn to him, as flowers turn toward the sun. He gave thanks and left, crossed the river and bought grass from two merchants to sit on, then sat beneath a nearby tree.

For as long as they remember him they will remember her; she will be remembered for millennia. People will journey from afar and visit her hut near a sleepy village on the shores of an ancient river, the hut where a stranger’s body was restored to life by a young girl.

One day we will forget. Not all at once like the lights going out, but a little at a time—the way mice steal a starving man’s food while he sucks at small servings of fitful, hungry sleep.  Our memory will turn black like oil, spread thin over too much history. And then? A body will be just a body; a body best left, dying on the road.



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