Garry Baldy found life difficult.
For weeks he could rise above the knotted stomach and screaming spaghetti thoughts. During those brighter days he would slide the mask of blissful ignorance upon his face and smile.
But, quite without reason or intent, he would find himself being dragged down into the festering well of his own dislocated mind at the end of the sunshine period.
It was like a soul sucking singularity would appear to block the sun and pull him, molecule by saddened molecule, into its epicentre.
He could feel the malignant negativity of the world swirling around him. The many lives, desperate for a private moment, but being exposed in its technological glass case of social media for all to judge, cried into his ears. The selfish gene, which snatched sweets from toddlers and nourishment from the poor, snapped at his exposed flesh, looking for items to covet.
He desperately wanted to see positivity in the pull of the black hole, yet, saw only pain and desperation.
He saw good people defending their homes against their own clandestine governments. He witnessed cures for death suppressed by wallets. He sobbed as he watched children and innocent animals bloodied, cowering from a master race of robots with no empathy to call on.
The silhouettes of sadistic selfishness slid and scurried across the globe, seeking new ways to sodomise the innocent.
He didn’t know how to fight the unseen. He had no way to combat the cruel conundrum that was human existence, so he pulled his quilt over his head and wept until dehydrated.
Then it was that he came across a fable by Attar of Nishapur that went something like this: a powerful, but troubled king asked a group of wise men to create something that would make him happy when sad. After much deliberation, the sages handed him a simple ring with the words “This too will pass” etched on it. This pleased the king immensely. Every time he felt low he would read the inscription and feel better about his woes.
Garry shrugged off the quilt and strode back into the world.
Whenever he felt the silhouettes circling, he returned his mind to wise Attar’s fable and their dance grew less dreadful to his day.