The Generist is Born
He stood there with the sun beating down on his dark, sweating face, his head tipped back, lips peeled back from his teeth but the scream stuck in his throat. Nothing moved.
Around him the dry field didn’t even rattle. Nothing scurried or flapped, the whole universe ceased and hung on the broken scream. He felt the hand of something cold and full of dense evil touch him inside and the scream died. The world paused in a moment of near death.
One ragged intake of breath released the universe and he felt the world jerk back into hot ragtag life. Dry naked corn stalks rattled, crows burbled then screamed. The World released him with a grudge, it left him shivering and sweating without even the strength to cry.
His belly seized and he fell to his knees trying to sick up the darkness like saltwater. The Shadow wriggled in his own lean shadow and he found his voice, thin and strange and reedy.
“Let me loose demon. Get out, get out. Go now. Go.”
His Black body doubled and the darkness came out of his mouth and nose. It trickled from his eyes and rectum, he felt it ooze from the tip of his penis and he fainted.
He lay there under the traveling sun in an oily puddle of filth that stank of something worse than the grave. As day gave way to night he dreamed of death. He dreamed of strong, thin arms lifting him from the filth and he opened his eyes, ready to behold God and saw the face of a boy.
“Hold on. I got you. You’re safe.”
The man stared at the boy’s broad dark face and let sleep take him back into his dreams. The pretty boy carried him to Auntie’s house and laid him in a cot on the sun porch.
“I found him Auntie.”
She nodded and pulled off her shawl, she smiled at him and her whole little raisin face lit up. The bones hadn’t lied, she’d sent her protege out with news from the bones and a sliver of hope.
“You did good baby. Now go heat me a basin of water. You remember the herbs?”
The boy beamed, he lived to please his mentor.
He scurried away and she looked down at the whimpering unconscious man.
“Too much time in The World son.”
The man opened his eyes again at the touch of her soft old fingers on his forehead.
“I have to, to tell you.”
She kissed his dirty forehead gently and stroked his short Afro.
“We got time Generist. Now sleep.”
Peaceful dreamless sleep settled over him like a blanket. Her light filled his being and the memory of the grip of The World, The greedy cold World, finally slipped out of him and he felt solid and ready to get to work.