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A Strange Man
“I can’t believe that God put us on this Earth to be ordinary.” Lou Holtz
A limousine rolled up the road toward a building whose precise appearance the author will for the moment not secrete. The limousine, however, was of a black aspect that permitted little of the slight breeze outside to make any difference inside the metal walls. And yes, they were walls. The cars they used to transport men like this were indeed prisons.
Men like this, you ask? In complete honesty, no prison was actually enough for the man who now laid in the back of the limousine, in a straight jacket and unconscious. The reason he was now helpless and unconscious was due solely to the fact that he thought he was normal. Ordinary. Average.
In truth, he was no different from you in any observable way. That is to say, he was certainly human. One would be hard-pressed to find a way in which he either appeared, or actually was, not human.
Still, one would be even more hard-pressed to believe he was simply ordinary. You couldn’t put your finger on it. He exuded something, but you would never figure out whether to puke or fear or collect it. You would wish for a sixth sense more dearly than ever before. There was something about this man which could be sensed, but only vaguely. You could tell something was different, perhaps even wrong, but you would be driven insane trying to find it.
Insane. This is the word most had found for him, when the word, “human” was no longer enough, when his simple oddity and strangeness made you deny him as a fellow on this rock. In short, he had something inexplicable. Something science would laugh at, that reason would cower away from. This man baffled everyone without moving, without speaking, without so much as twitching.
Enigmatic? Perhaps.
“I can’t believe that God put us on this Earth to be ordinary.” Lou Holtz
A limousine rolled up the road toward a building whose precise appearance the author will for the moment not secrete. The limousine, however, was of a black aspect that permitted little of the slight breeze outside to make any difference inside the metal walls. And yes, they were walls. The cars they used to transport men like this were indeed prisons.
Men like this, you ask? In complete honesty, no prison was actually enough for the man who now laid in the back of the limousine, in a straight jacket and unconscious. The reason he was now helpless and unconscious was due solely to the fact that he thought he was normal. Ordinary. Average.
In truth, he was no different from you in any observable way. That is to say, he was certainly human. One would be hard-pressed to find a way in which he either appeared, or actually was, not human.
Still, one would be even more hard-pressed to believe he was simply ordinary. You couldn’t put your finger on it. He exuded something, but you would never figure out whether to puke or fear or collect it. You would wish for a sixth sense more dearly than ever before. There was something about this man which could be sensed, but only vaguely. You could tell something was different, perhaps even wrong, but you would be driven insane trying to find it.
Insane. This is the word most had found for him, when the word, “human” was no longer enough, when his simple oddity and strangeness made you deny him as a fellow on this rock. In short, he had something inexplicable. Something science would laugh at, that reason would cower away from. This man baffled everyone without moving, without speaking, without so much as twitching.
Enigmatic? Perhaps.
!Noah!
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