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The Meantime Chronicles


A note on using one’s time, The Meantime Chronicles are stories on hope, resilience, and superheroes.

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Week 46: The Butler

Week 46: The Butler

Sale Price:$350.00 Original Price:$500.00

Hand-drawn illustration based upon an original short story, newly concocted for each week of the year 2022. Comes framed exactly as the pictured example with the story in its entirety inscribed upon the back of the frame.

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My name here is of little consequence. I served in His Majesty’s Armed Forces at a young age, some may say too young. It was necessary at the time, but the things I witnessed, the things I did, they propelled me far beyond my years. At the conclusion of my service I needed change and moved to America. I found myself in the employ of one of the most prestigious families in the country. An already brow-furrowed twenty-six I was half bodyguard, half driver. I chauffeured the successful doctor and his altruistic wife about the city, with an ever vigilant eye. One day, the madam found she was pregnant. The couple was overjoyed. And I found myself sharing in their happiness. The doctor himself delivered the child due to a sky-splitting storm and subsequent blackout. From the moment his new born face was illuminated by flickering candle light, we knew our lives had changed. He was perfect. Beautiful. I had no way of knowing how much it would affect me, but over the years, I came to love that boy as if he were my own. He was brave and adventurous. Afraid of nothing, save for one thing. Just days before a tragedy would change all our lives, the young master, wondering the extensive grounds of the estate, stumbled into a cave. He got lost and his shouts for help disturbed the hundreds of flying winged creatures living within. His father and I found him sitting on the cold, wet, stone of the cave, his arms wrapped about his legs, cradling himself. His piercing blue eyes with signs of dried tears. He refused to speak of what happened, but he had learned of fear that day, something he would eventually overcome and even employ. Something he would master.

Later that very week, was when it happened. He lost them. His, our, world crumbled in mere seconds. Two shots of a gun and his parents, my dear friends, were no more. I’ll never forgive myself for not being there. For not taking those bullets. He witnessed every terrible moment of it. His mother’s scream shattered his young ears. His father’s final words etched themselves onto his heart. Though the police report and the obituary would say two people murdered- a third died that day. The young master passed as well. As he was, he died. A hollowed-out husk of a human being went through the motions after that. For years. Going to schools. Attending events. The once prestigious estate became a solemn place. A place devoid of the warmth and laughter and love which had filled it.

Then suddenly he was gone. No word. No sign. He, as his parents, was no more. With nothing and no one left I did as the young master had, I went through the motions. Carrying out my charge, my duties toward the property. I kept up with the cleaning, the yard work, security. I sought to perpetuate the strong legacy of this once esteemed family. Years fell away.

It was a particularly crisp autumn morning that, through the frosted window pane and the fog of my breath, I saw a figure crossing the drive. Broad shouldered and in tattered clothing, the young master walked back through the front door. As simply as if he had left to attend to a day’s business, he returned to his parents’ home. And in so doing I came back to life. However in the days and weeks and months that followed I began to realize this was neither the boy I had known, nor was it that husk of a teen he had grown into. This was something else entirely. The husk filled, perhaps replaced, by a being not quite human. No. No human at all. This was something else. Something I, nor he, would have a name for until later. I beheld the evolution which had taken hold in the foregone years. He had returned with purpose. Returned with knowledge and skill. Returned with an anger, a drive, and an intensity this world has not seen.

And so I did the only thing I knew how to do. I cared for that little boy as I always had. I nurtured this new course, this new thing he had become. A thing utterly devoted to eradicating tragedies such as the one which had altered our lives. And begin to eradicate them he did. But his limits knew no bound and as his preternatural efforts began to make a difference, as the tunnel’s end became clear- another end he was unready to face- his steeled mind, his capable body, his indomitable focus, all began to slip. The creature began to hibernate, leaving again, solely a husk.

At a loss as how to help, at a loss for what to do, I sometimes feel I may have been too drastic in my decision. But drastic is what we know. It had been dealt to us. So we responded in kind. His parents death wounded me, but to witness the youth pulled from such a sweet boy so violently, much in the way it had been pulled from me, fractured me. And when he decided to leave, without word, without warning- those two gunshots ended up killing four people. I now know I died alongside the doctor, his caring wife, and a young life un-lived. So if he could come back to life as something else, then so could I.

To honor his parents. For the love of them. For that long departed young boy. And the thing that took his place- that that thing may never be deserted again, never without purpose, as he did, I too transformed. I became something for him to chase. As I am ever privy to his thoughts, his methods, his actions, I can evade him, I can be something uncatchable. If he is a creature of the night, the shadows themselves, a terror unto evil, resolute in good- then I am not. I am its antithesis.

I am ostentatious.

I am unpredictable.

I am untamable chaos.

Ever a step ahead, just out of his unfathomable reach, with immutable laughter.

I am a joke.

I am a clown….he. He-he. Ha… ha hahahahahHahahaHahahaha