Morning all I hope you had a fabulous weekend. We started moving plants out during the day. Still have to bring them back in at night but for now at least it is out doors for them. until the weather changes again anyway. So a lot of to and fro for me this weekend. But it is good for the arms right? But here we are back at the desk again so let’s see what we come up with for the first prompt of the week. Timers set and off we go.
Somehow in my head it sounded like the character was being interviewed by someone surprised they weren’t taken down by inherent corruption of a system. No idea what system, but I do like the concept of someone who knows what went down in detail but managed to stay just on the edge of it. I think interspersing interview questions in small sections between the narrative could be a fun way to go with a story like this. Obviously I would need to figure out the story, but I think this idea is one I am going to use even if I don’t use the writing that came out today. I’m kind of ticked by that.
Monday, March 30th: I never forgot.
I never forgot. It was a small thing really in the grand scheme of things. A small indiscretion on his part. An incident where he did what I was certain he thought best at the time if he looked back on it. I somehow doubted he did look back on it. Self-reflection, indeed reflection of any kind was not part of his make up. He did what he thought was in his best interest and didn’t really delve too deeply into the whys and wherefores of others any more than he studied his own behavior.
That incident however stuck in my mind. It took no effort for his loyalties to drop, for his morals and ethics to be set aside. Friends and enemies were burned alike.
But he got what he wanted.
Some friendships survived that event, mostly because it was a small enough thing that it was easily passed over. An apology here, a comment about the heart of the moment there and all was forgotten.
Later others would say he changed. That power corrupted. The truth was simpler. It was always who he was, it was simply over looked or dismissed in small events that seemed meaningless. Those who did not remember, did not mark those moments were taken down with him when it became too much.
I was not in their number. I was a part of their group, ran in the same circles and had the same interests. I always kept myself apart. I invested in different things instead of jumping on his bandwagon. I avoided certain activities that I thought were suspect. I listened to his words and then investigated on my own using independent sources. Too many times I found his words meant little. They were designed to draw people to his side. He used words people wanted to believe.
Looking back over the wreckage, I believe that was his strength. He saw what people wanted and twisted his words to suit even if the actions served only him in the end. People wanted to believe in simple answers to complex problems. It was easier, less terrifying than to look at the problem, trace it to it’s roots and eliminate the cause instead of the symptom.
A mutual friend once called him lipstick on a pig but the truth was darker. He was a hard shell of shellack over a rotting corpse. The casing kept the stench and the rot in, but eventually the whole collapsed.
I always found it disturbing that until the full rot was revealed no one even suspected what was underneath. I had to believe they were lying. I wasn’t sure it the lies were to cover up their own participation or to make themselves feel better. I simply couldn’t believe that many people were that stupid. I had to believe the blindness was willful. That they saw a way to use him for their own ends and avoided looking at the details so they could continue to think of themselves as good people.
So, they could tell themselves they were making smart business decisions instead of selling their souls to the devil.
‘Especially considering how little they got for their souls in the end.’
Ten til Midnight 