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RIP - Comicality
    AC Benus
  • AC Benus
  • Author
  • 09/21/2013
  • 708 Words
  • 1,865 Views
  • 22 Comments
Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

The Tower, and other pieces - 1. The Tower

A decision must be made.

The Tower

 

He looked out the window. It was his favorite place in the tower. He stared out on the countryside. He was interrupted by a thought. He glanced over to his small clock on the wall to make sure. As he walked across his bedroom, he couldn't remember the last time he didn't know by instinct when it was going to ring.

He mounted up the rounded stairs to the third floor. He stood there and pondered the massive works of the clock. 'Thirty seconds,' he thought. Slowly he rubbed his hands together, took hold of the rope, and pulled down. He watched the hands of another small wall clock, and 10 seconds later, let go. The bell rang out above his head loud and sharp. Every time he heard the bell he thought it sounded more beautiful than the last. He pulled and released the rope two more times, and said, "Three o'clock. Where did the afternoon go?"

He went downstairs and out to his walled garden where he gathered vegetables and withdrew a bucket of water from the well. He went inside and set his dinner on the table. He climbed the steps again and rang the half hour.

He boiled his vegetables above a fire fueled by twigs, weeds and peelings from his garden.

After dinner he went up and rang the 5 o'clock ring. Then he went to his bedroom and watched the sun go down. He thought that of all the things God had made, this was greatest, and applauded his work.

When he returned from the 5:30 chime, he sat on his bed and thought abut his father. It was 20 years since his father died, thirty-three since his mother died. The last time he left the tower was when he was fifteen. There used to be a village in front of the tower, but they all eventually left. His father used to tell him about the tower, and about the responsibilities he would one day have. He would tell his son that: "The tower's foundations touch the very roof of Hell, and support the Gates of Heaven itself."

 

˚˚˚˚˚

 

His night was sleepless, filled with thoughts and memories. After he rang the 10 o'clock ring, he remembered his father said that if he forgot to wind the clock, or chime the hour or half, or just let it stop – the world would end at the hands of the beasts from Hell. All his life he had been brought up with only one thing to accomplish, one thing to do. To be the keeper of the tower, and now for the first time in his life, he was wondering what he was doing there.

 

˚˚˚˚˚

 

He watched the morning sun being born. Then he rang the 5 o'clock bell, and went down to the first floor.

His heart was beating so fast, he felt faint. He was trying to open the door to the outside world. The door had been closed since he was fifteen. The wood was so swollen it almost made it impossible to move, but finally it swung open, and he could look at the world he had never known.

'My God, what should I do?' he thought. 'If I leave, will the world end? If I don’t leave, will I ever know what the world really is?'

A thousand thoughts echoed through his mind: his father's words, his mother's smile, the warmth of sunshine; his father's words.

He stood there paralyzed for what seemed hours to him, and finally, he reached a decision. He slammed the door shut.

 

˚˚˚˚˚

 

For thirty more years he stayed and wound the clock, struck the hour and the half, and then he died. The clock stopped, and decades rolled by. The floors rotted away, the mighty works fell to the ground and were scattered. The bell was carted away and is now in a small church someplace.

The world didn't die; instead it flourished. Today people come to the tower, and take pictures with their Polaroids. They put their hands on the weathered stones, and wonder what it all could have been for.

 

            

~

       

            

Copyright © 2017 AC Benus; All Rights Reserved.
  • Like 14
Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Chapter Comments

Stephen

Beautiful language you use for a desolate man.

 

Tragedy comes slow or fast. The worst of them happen slowly, and those are the

most painful to endure. The pain is drawn out as slow torture.

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AC Benus
On 09/21/2013 09:29 PM, Stephen said:
Beautiful language you use for a desolate man.

 

Tragedy comes slow or fast. The worst of them happen slowly, and those are the

most painful to endure. The pain is drawn out as slow torture.

Thank you my friend, as always
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Yettie One

The bleak isolation of this story is scathing as you read it.

Its simple structure, and clipped sentences give it an air of aloofness as you read. As if the words carry no care for the man whom chose to give his life to protect others from a perceived evil. Their only responsibility is to give light to the facts.

The uncertainty of decision, the weight of responsibility. It all fits into a short, sharp almost monologue of wasted time.

Hard to read, yet moving at the same time.

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AC Benus
On 12/03/2013 03:13 PM, Yettie One said:
The bleak isolation of this story is scathing as you read it.

Its simple structure, and clipped sentences give it an air of aloofness as you read. As if the words carry no care for the man whom chose to give his life to protect others from a perceived evil. Their only responsibility is to give light to the facts.

The uncertainty of decision, the weight of responsibility. It all fits into a short, sharp almost monologue of wasted time.

Hard to read, yet moving at the same time.

you move me, and does everyone who leaves comment...because i never can quite 'see' what i have written from a very high perspective. You are so correct that the clipped language IS callous; it does not care about the man, and it is something i have never put into conscience thought before. But, it is true. Thank you for writing this review.
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drpaladin
  • Site Moderator

This story impacts so many emotions; despair, futility, loneliness, wonder, and hope. This man led a life that was seemingly meaningless and unimportant from our viewpoint, but was it really that meaningless. To him his life had purpose, was ordered, and he was working for the greater good of everyone. Is living a life firmly in that conviction, while at the same time never harming another living soul such a bad thing? I would like to think that someone heard that bell pealing in the distance and it held meaning for them too. When Pandora opened that jar, (Yes, it was a jar, not a box.) and set loose all the evils on the world, hope remained behind. Hope is a powerful thing and that is what I carry with me from this story. Don't worry. Hope isn't finite. There is always enough hope to go around.

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Defiance19

What a burden or a privilege this man endured. The weight of his duty carried out with singleminded focus. A solitary existence with no reward other than knowing he had protected the world, and beautiful sunsets. His one act of curiosity to see what life held beyond his tower, overridden by integrity. I wonder if, over the years, he ever let himself wonder what could have been. If he felt pride, resentment, or imprisoned by his responsibility. The Catholic Church in my neighborhood, every six o'clock, their bells peal a stanza of an appropriate seasonal hymn. It's a beautiful thing, and I find myself listening for it if I'm home. I hope that even if he didn't know, someone was listening for him.

This is sad and intriguing all at once. Sadly, there are people who provide menial, monotonous services to whom we give little thought, but cant do without.

I am so taken by the way you write..

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AC Benus
On 05/27/2015 02:52 AM, drpaladin said:
This story impacts so many emotions; despair, futility, loneliness, wonder, and hope. This man led a life that was seemingly meaningless and unimportant from our viewpoint, but was it really that meaningless. To him his life had purpose, was ordered, and he was working for the greater good of everyone. Is living a life firmly in that conviction, while at the same time never harming another living soul such a bad thing? I would like to think that someone heard that bell pealing in the distance and it held meaning for them too. When Pandora opened that jar, (Yes, it was a jar, not a box.) and set loose all the evils on the world, hope remained behind. Hope is a powerful thing and that is what I carry with me from this story. Don't worry. Hope isn't finite. There is always enough hope to go around.
Thank you, drpaladin, for an insightful review. It's an honor for me to hear that this story is impactful.

 

As far as Pandora goes, I do have to say that she and her tale was always one of my favorites, even from the time when I was quite young and first saw a cartoon version of it on TV.

 

Thank you again for your support and comments!

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AC Benus
On 05/28/2015 01:15 PM, Defiance19 said:
What a burden or a privilege this man endured. The weight of his duty carried out with singleminded focus. A solitary existence with no reward other than knowing he had protected the world, and beautiful sunsets. His one act of curiosity to see what life held beyond his tower, overridden by integrity. I wonder if, over the years, he ever let himself wonder what could have been. If he felt pride, resentment, or imprisoned by his responsibility. The Catholic Church in my neighborhood, every six o'clock, their bells peal a stanza of an appropriate seasonal hymn. It's a beautiful thing, and I find myself listening for it if I'm home. I hope that even if he didn't know, someone was listening for him.

This is sad and intriguing all at once. Sadly, there are people who provide menial, monotonous services to whom we give little thought, but cant do without.

I am so taken by the way you write..

Thank you, Defiance19, for a beautiful review. It touched me.

 

Both my church, and City Hall (which was only 3 blocks away), had Victorian-era clarion bells. I'm sure they motivated me when conceiving of this story, as I would love to lean out the second floor window on summer evenings and listen to them.

 

As for your concluding compliment, all I can humbly say, is thank you. That means a lot to me.

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Drew Espinosa

Wow, this was one of the first stories you ever wrote! :) AC, even at that age, I can see how talented you were then. Now, years later, you are even more talented :hug:

 

I agree with DrP, it must be so jarring to be faced with the choice of the "known" inside the tower and the "unkown" beyond. And thanks to your response in "Ask an Author" I definitely see how this mirrors you as a gay teenager and not wanting to come out.

 

Thank you for sharing this AC :hug:

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AC Benus
On 01/07/2016 08:32 AM, Drew Espinosa said:

Wow, this was one of the first stories you ever wrote! :) AC, even at that age, I can see how talented you were then. Now, years later, you are even more talented :hug:

 

I agree with DrP, it must be so jarring to be faced with the choice of the "known" inside the tower and the "unkown" beyond. And thanks to your response in "Ask an Author" I definitely see how this mirrors you as a gay teenager and not wanting to come out.

 

Thank you for sharing this AC :hug:

Thank you for the great review, Drew. It seems a long time ago that I wrote this, and in terms of my emotional maturity level, it was. Part of the editing I decided not to do was change the ending. How sad the 15-year-old me was willing to lock himself away for a sham, but I kept it all the way it was composed (improving spelling, though ;) )

 

Thanks again.

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skinnydragon

This affected me in a slightly different way, AC.

 

The tower is 'he'
Will 'he' embrace the world and discover all it promises
Or will 'he' remain internal, afraid of breaking the rules which keep him in his straitjacket.
'He' chose the latter, the safer. But the choice permits no legacy. Those in the future wonder whose bones these were.

 

Probably not your 15 yo intent, but it's pretty powerful to me, when interpreted that way. Sorry.

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Mikiesboy

This man is spurred on by duty, and responsibility. Nothing will stop him. It is a sad existence to me, but vital to him.
I wonder why he did not marry? Is he gay, did he not want his children to have to carry on the old ways?
Very interesting AC.
Loved it!

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AC Benus
On 01/07/2016 11:09 AM, skinnydragon said:

This affected me in a slightly different way, AC.

 

The tower is 'he'

Will 'he' embrace the world and discover all it promises

Or will 'he' remain internal, afraid of breaking the rules which keep him in his straitjacket.

'He' chose the latter, the safer. But the choice permits no legacy. Those in the future wonder whose bones these were.

 

Probably not your 15 yo intent, but it's pretty powerful to me, when interpreted that way. Sorry.

…awwww, skinny…. Thanks for a touching review. Yes, I can see your point about the tower being the stand-in for the man, and well, the man is the stand-in for the building too. One guards and protects the other, but perhaps neither knows why.

 

Thank you for reading this and leave your thoughts. I appreciate it a great deal. (And, no sorrys allowed!)

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AC Benus
On 01/07/2016 11:36 AM, Mikiesboy said:

This man is spurred on by duty, and responsibility. Nothing will stop him. It is a sad existence to me, but vital to him.

I wonder why he did not marry? Is he gay, did he not want his children to have to carry on the old ways?

Very interesting AC.

Loved it!

Thanks for a great review, Tim. The man is alone; I suspect that's partly by choice – based on his concluding actions – and mostly due to circumstances. I suppose most Gay youth feel those two types of pressures are at work to explain their personal loneliness and sense of isolation.

 

Thank you for reading this old, old story of mine. I appreciate it!

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northie

A deceptively simple piece which lulled me with its rhythm until disturbance and then the decisive jolt. The character's actions are almost what we would term now obsessive / compulsive and yet there is a chink in his armour, an opportunity for change – refused.

 

The undercurrent to this story is two universal situations that most people face in their lives. Change is often viewed with apprehension, sometimes fear but if you allow this to stymie your life completely, it will wither.

 

It can be easy to think that you are vital to the proper functioning of something (perhaps even more so if you are alone) but no; if the job is vital, someone else will be found. If not, well, as the end of the story illustrates, time will demonstrate its indifference.

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dughlas

How incredibly well constructed ... the self-imposed isolation based on a meaningless sense of obligation based on a parent's perception of what is right and good ...

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AC Benus
On 06/05/2016 07:35 PM, dughlas said:

How incredibly well constructed ... the self-imposed isolation based on a meaningless sense of obligation based on a parent's perception of what is right and good ...

Wow, Dugh. You have encapsulated the pressures the man feels perfectly.

 

Thank you for a wonderful review!

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AC Benus
On 06/04/2016 12:10 AM, northie said:

A deceptively simple piece which lulled me with its rhythm until disturbance and then the decisive jolt. The character's actions are almost what we would term now obsessive / compulsive and yet there is a chink in his armour, an opportunity for change – refused.

 

The undercurrent to this story is two universal situations that most people face in their lives. Change is often viewed with apprehension, sometimes fear but if you allow this to stymie your life completely, it will wither.

 

It can be easy to think that you are vital to the proper functioning of something (perhaps even more so if you are alone) but no; if the job is vital, someone else will be found. If not, well, as the end of the story illustrates, time will demonstrate its indifference.

It's interesting you mention obsessive/compulsive. I have a feeling mild forms of it are quite common among adolescents, and your review reminds me how I had certain ritualized behaviors at the time I wrote this story. The only one I vaguely remember concerned how I turned off my light before going to sleep…. I became aware that my 'fear' of 'the consequences' was groundless and weaned myself off of it while still quite young. I don't know if this had any connection to the premise of the story when I conceived it, but it may.

 

Thanks for your awesome review and support, northie. I appreciate it.

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Former Member

Think about it...it's kinda horror in some way. You live knowing the goal of your life, get a chance to actually live, but still you decide not to go and live...Soon you die and all you worked for is gone. That's horror. Great story.

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AC Benus
On 02/06/2017 05:05 PM, Dennis191 said:

Think about it...it's kinda horror in some way. You live knowing the goal of your life, get a chance to actually live, but still you decide not to go and live...Soon you die and all you worked for is gone. That's horror. Great story.

I think you're right. It really is horrific if you think about it.

 

Thanks, Dennis, for another great review. Love to hear your feedback.

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