Human Nature

Human Nature

The summer has lingered on to mine surprise and revolt. I have used to hot, as I am from down under. The park behind the school is just what I have required. Few people are there, old man, his grandchild and some girl. I sit on the empty bench and open book.

“Your book is turned upside down”, the girl stands over me. I am looking nor to her nor near her. I am still staring at the child and his grandfather. Only gesture of mine is hand waving off around her face. It is enough for park to be down to three creatures. I should tell her how the writer is famous Tolstoyevski. I have turned around to see if she is still here, but she was long gone.

The little one isn’t that innocent, he understands, suspects some foul play. He is now watching me, without any movement on his face, probably wishing to know how to plead sympathy from me. As his grandpa calls for him, heavy thoughts, just moment ago within his head, now are “writings on the water” to say it like some poet. The fun is about to start. I just have to wait for their heads in close vicinity of each other. Now, quick surge, from me, and their brains should swap, as everything is stopped in its tracks. The whole planet is in slow-motion. The cars on the street are as fast as snails; the birds are in some kind of vacuum. It works, I have done it. I have to wait for human nature.

The grandfather is sensing some strange change within himself. He is stretching his limbs, feeling juvenile as the youth brain spreads his vibes. He doesn’t pay much attention to his next of kin, but onto the street, to lovely, juicy, young females as he is over fence and it into new life. Human nature at its finest or darkest hour.

The child is upset, helplessly looking at the street, only seeing lower part of familiar legs, disappearing. The phone is in the grass, ringing, the child can’t answer. Something else is bugging him, something from this different cortex. Old memories, hidden deep down. The horrors of war, running into cold and dark forest, as the village is set ablaze, screams can be heard all around as he runs with his young sister holding his hand but dirty, filthy and awful men are gaining of them. He must let go tiny hand.

All those memories came flooded in, shocking young organism. His old brain recognizes me, from the war, as I was, or the likes of me, leading one group of men after another in a bloody search, giving human nature what it wants. My dark-red cape is spreading around this innocent being, as we are heading down under, whilst mother finds the telephone in the grass, the ball not far away, and no soul left around in the shades of this magnificent park.