by Emile Faust
Dragon Bond
Emile Faust
Contents
1. Quotes
2. Part I
3. Part II
4. End
1
Quotes
“Only Gnostics and contemporaries qualify, for they alone are both severed from their unconscious and aware of the fact.”
* * *
― C.G. Jung, The Gnostic Jung
* * *
“…I felt pleasantly empty, untouched by everything around me and happy to be unseen by all. I put my legs up on the bench and leaned back, the best way to feel the true well-being of seclusion. There wasn't a cloud in my mind, nor did I feel any discomfort, and I hadn't a single unfulfilled desire or craving as far as my thought could reach. I lay with open eyes in a state of utter absence from myself and felt deliciously out of it.”
* * *
― Knut Hamsun, Hunger
2
Part I
Annabelle felt the spine of the book in her hand and noted the rough, leather texture as she dragged her finger upwards. ‘Gnostic Gospels’ was its title and it spoke its name in bright, gold-leaf letters that shouted at everyone who made eye contract with the book. Annabelle herself had noticed one other person earlier in the day lift the book and place it back inside of the bookshelf, shuddering to himself as he walked away. He was a tall man with toned arms and a strong posture that seemed to tower over everyone with a quiet, dignified charm. Annabelle noticed his gray eyes that were flat and lifeless — until the man walked himself back into the aisle Annabelle was currently standing in. He approached and set his eyes on hers, she saw none of the flatness she witnessed before when he placed the book back and instead was greeted by the yellow gaze of the humming light above them dancing imperceptibly between his lashes and causing his gray eyes to almost glow in the unassuming luminosity.
* * *
“Sorry, I couldn’t help but notice you checking that out. It’s a dense read but really interesting. Do you study?” The man began with a deep, gruff voice. His words cut through the silence and peace of the quaint bookstore and would have startled Annabelle had she not been quietly watching the man through the space between two novels on the bookshelf.
* * *
“No, I don’t I just have an interest in this kinda stuff. It can be a little challenging but I love it. Do you?” She responded.
* * *
“I haven’t studied in years but Gnosticism was always cool to me, anything that predates Christianity is fun.” He responded, turning his body towards Annabelle and giving her his full attention.
* * *
“But a little dark, right? There’s all this talk about illusion and how you have to reach enlightenment, it’s scary to have a branch of thought or religion that’s all about people never receiving the truth about the world.” She responded, placing the book back in its place.
* * *
“Dark for sure, but isn’t the most interesting stuff dark? I don’t think it’s a dark thing that some people won’t end up finding purpose to their life, I think it’s a good thing that some people will.” He added, casually resting his muscular arm on the shelf above him.
* * *
“Well that’s certainly a glass half full way of looking at things.” Annabelle added, and took a quick measure of the man and noticed the red shirt tightly clinging to his body. “Red shirt, you work here?’ She asked. The man laughed slightly and pulled the base of his t-shirt over his belt-line. “I don’t work here but it’d be a great job if I got to meet people like you.”
* * *
“People like me?” Annabelle responded, her face growing slightly warm at the compliment. She wanted to return the pleasantries but was curious at the tone of his question. “Oh I didn’t mean anything by it, I just mean people that like to read the same kind of thing I read.”
* * *
Annabelle continued with “That’s so boring though, meeting people that are already interested in things you enjoy. Isn’t it better to meet people with different tastes? Sample the world and all that.”
* * *
The man leaned back slightly and responded. “Well it certainly saves a lot of time, once you find people you have things in common with then you can figure out if it’s worthwhile figuring out what else they like. The fact they like similar things to you means they’ll probably like other things you’ll dig too. Take this book we both interacted with for a second, we both have at least some passing familiarity with it, right? That makes me think you’re probably quite smart if you have an interest in the Gnostic Gospels and probably have other interesting interests as well.”
* * *
“Interesting interests.” Annabelle repeated to herself, listening. The man chuckled and added “Sure, enter my interesting interests. It’s a mouthful.”
* * *
Annabelle was eased by his handsome smile as it painted itself across his face and felt herself lowering her guard as she responded to him. “Annabelle, my name that is. Hopefully that isn’t a mouthful too.” The man brought himself closer, his protruding chest nearly touching hers, and he placed his large hand softly onto hers, shaking it. “I’m Eman, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Do you come here often?” He asked.
* * *
“Not too much nowadays with e-readers and stuff, but I still like browsing every once and a while.” She responded.
* * *
“You’d like this.” The man handed her a copy of a novel whose cover featured a strange self-portrait of a man staring at himself in the mirror. “It’s about the same kind of stuff you learn about in Gnosticism. This guy who’s a total loser in every sense of the word becomes an ascetic and ends up finding more purpose in his life just begging and giving things away than living than he did before. I think it speaks to some similar themes.”
* * *
Annabelle looked it over. “Kinda like Siddartha, right? Except I guess he wasn’t a loser in the beginning.”
* * *
Eman smiled. “Sure, it’s like Siddartha if the main character was a depressed priest in a small town.”
* * *
“You said he was a loser, now he’s a priest?” Annabelle asked.
* * *
“Priests can be losers too.”
* * *
“I’ve never looked at a priest and thought ‘Damn, I bet that priest is such a loser.’ Aren’t priests usually quite driven and motivated?” She asked, allowing her body to relax and the warm sensations that flooded her face to subside.
* * *
“Well it’s about a priest that can’t empathize with his parishioners, he just reads to them and isn’t able to form that connection — that’s what makes him become an ascetic, to try to understand humans enough to communicate effectively with them. But that doesn’t make him a loser, what made him a loser is that he’s a guy stuck in a job that he not only hates, but that he isn’t able to fulfill.”
* * *
“He isn’t able to fulfill his job?” She asked. Eman nodded.
* * *
“Well it’s the job of a priest to be caring, loving, whatever. Having empathy is a basic-as-hell requirement and him not being capable of it makes him want to become a lowly beggar. He ends up with a more profound understanding of life than he would’ve ever had as a priest.” He said.
* * *
“Some people just cant do that, it doesn’t make him a loser. I remember I had a hell of a time communicating with people as a younger woman, it’s something that takes time. I’m sure you weren’t born with the gift of gab, it
’s something you grow into.” Annabelle responded.
* * *
Eman felt a warmness rush to his face, he enjoyed being characterized as having ‘the gift of gab’, but presently did not want to come across as seeking compliments.
* * *
“Nah, I don’t have the gift of gab. Maybe the gift of talking to strangers at bookstores but that isn’t much of a gift, is it?” He asked. “Well you’ve made my afternoon so far by talking to me so I’d say it’s a gift.” Annabelle answered.
* * *
The warmness Eman felt soon consumed his body, and he began to notice just how much he was admiring Annabelle’s figure. She was curvy with a slightly insecure air, but with the ability to project confidence when she needed to. Eman regarded this highly, as he himself had overcome his self consciousness and knew how difficult it was to do so. Annabelle also possessed flushed, red cheeks that complimented her sunny brown and red hair. Freckles would have been a welcome feature to her face but instead there was a stern face that intended for its wearer to be taken seriously. Annabelle’s stern face on the other hand didn’t demand that she be taken seriously, but merely asked. It had that glint of politeness that initially made Eman approach her, and conveyed a sense of hesitancy and kindness.
* * *
“You’d make my afternoon if I could have your number. You seem very interesting, Annabelle. I want to know more.” Eman stated with his low, booming voice. Annabelle’s face flushed and she avoided eye contact as she answered
* * *
“There isn’t much to know unfortunately, I—“
* * *
“Forget the number.” Eman interrupted. Annabelle felt a jolt of embarrassment before Eman quickly reassured her. “There, you see? Second and Charles, it’s a coffee place with good pastries.” He said, gesturing towards a small building out of the bookstores window.
* * *
“Yeah I’ve been there before.” Annabelle responded.
* * *
“Well?” Eman asked, leaning in. His masculine scent rose like heated air and wafted itself over Annabelle, and he placed his arm and elbow outwards, inviting Annabelle to take it.
* * *
She agreed, and the two began to make their way out of the store.
* * *
“I can’t get enough of their coffee, it’s such a good boost to my day.” Eman began.
* * *
“I just love when a coffee joint gets it right, you know?” he concluded.
* * *
“I’m not a fan of coffee.” Annabelle said, hoping not to offend Eman and forcing them to go somewhere else. “They just brought out this menu item, chai-tea lattes. Ever had one?” he asked her. Annabelle shook her head and Eman’s gruff, shadowed face began to beam.
* * *
“Oh, fantastic! It’s been a while since I’ve had the pleasure of introducing someone to chai tea lattes. They’re my heroin.” He added with a laugh.
* * *
“Oh boy well if it’s like heroin I have to try it, people like being compared to deadly opiates right?” Annabelle responded sarcastically. Eman playfully stopped in place, let out an exaggerated joke-sigh and begun to walk again as Annabelle laughed to herself.
* * *
“I have to say, I’ve never tried it but the way you see people nodding out in the middle of the street makes it seem like the thing to do, right?” Eman asked. Annabelle laughed again.
* * *
“The thing to do? You make it sound like a new dance.” Annabelle added with a smile.
* * *
“Shit, speak of the devil.” Eman said, pointing towards a homeless man on the street. He flew a cardboard sign that read ‘Why lie? I need beer money!’ on top of his guitar case and sat his disheveled body against the wall of the corner store Eman and Annabelle approached.
* * *
“Hey my man, you alright? I like that beer sign.” Eman asked as he reached into his pocket, retrieving his wallet. The homeless man sat up with a solemn look on his face that brightened once he noticed Eman reaching into his pocket.
* * *
“This sign makes me the most money but the crazy thing is I don’t drink, it’s just one of those signs that people like. They like honesty.” The homeless man said.
* * *
Eman retrieved a five dollar bill from his pocket and handed it to the man, Annabelle stood a safe distance away — she had a fear of the transient. “Well, they like what they think of as honest, don’t they? People are quicker to buy someone a beer than a plate of food or some clothes.”
* * *
The homeless man smiled as he took the five, and Annabelle approached closer — feeling secure next to Eman’s large figure. “That’s a shame, isn’t it? You gotta pretend to be some drunk bum just to make a buck when I’m sure you’d rather have some dignity.”
* * *
The homeless man looked dejected at Eman and said “No, I’d rather make a buck than have my dignity. Feeling good about myself doesn’t put food on the table, does it?”
* * *
Eman leaned back and added “No, but it’ll make the process of making a buck less annoying. If you aren’t gonna spend it on booze, what do you need the money for?' he asked.
* * *
The man smiled, reached into his tattered pants, fiddled for a moment, and retrieved a large wad of 1$ and 5$ bills looking as if it was nearing a couple hundred dollars.
* * *
“It’s about 3:30 and I’ve made enough for today. Get a place to sleep, something to eat, and something warm to put in my body.” The homeless man said with a wink, slyly adding the bill to his wad and placing it back into his pants.
* * *
“That’s not cool, man.” Annabelle said, feeling a brief and fleeting moment of bravery. “I wouldn’t give you money if I knew you’d just spend it on drugs.”
* * *
“It’s okay,” Eman begun, moving his large body between the homeless man and Annabelle. “I gave him the money for beer after all, what do I care if it’s going to drugs?”
* * *
The homeless man shook his head.
* * *
“It’s the only thing that makes this life tolerable.” The homeless man said, placing his eyes back onto the pavement in front of him.
* * *
Upon hearing this, Eman felt a sense of disappointment in Annabelle for having chastised the man.
* * *
“How long you been out here?” Eman asked.
* * *
“Sixteen years” The man responded began. “Started out as a foster kid gettin’ moved around and once the group home found out I was slinging they kicked me out so boom — here I am. No ma’ and no pa’, this is all I got.”
* * *
Annabelle was becoming visibly annoyed, noticing the expensive smart-phone poking itself out of the homeless man’s pocket.
* * *
“But you got enough for a phone like that, right?” She asked with a sense of disgust in her voice.
* * *
The man nodded in agreement, saying “Sure, I had a job and got a nice phone. But it’s a struggle to keep anything nice, I lost the job, kept the phone. So what?”
* * *
Eman looked seriously at Annabelle and said “Yeah Annabelle, so what?” in a serious tone.
* * *
“Sorry, take care.” Annabelle remarked quietly as Eman walked beside her towards the coffee shop. Cinnamon and lavender swirled into a hot mass of inviting air and beckoned the two to join, Annabelle realized just how long it had been since she’d had a good pastry. As they entered, Annabelle noticed Eman had seemingly lost his talkative nature. With a lighthearted smile, Annabelle poked Eman in the stomach.
* * *
“You alright?” Annabelle asked as the duo waited in line.
* * *
“That was fucked up. I used to be homeless like him and all the time people would com
plain that I had too nice of a phone to be out there, and it’s like damn I’m out here starving and the first thing you can think to do is critique my phone and say I don’t need to be on the streets? It’s not like it was my choice back then, just like I’m sure it isn’t his to be homeless.” Eman said.
