Watergate was ruining my life. I was tired of writing about
it, and more tired that I wasn’t the one who broke the story. I was a small
fish stuck in smallish Omaha. I was desperate for any carrot attached to a
stick. That’s when I got the call and met Kikero.
A small town some distance outside of Omaha, I’d rather not say which,
had recently forced their mayor to resign, mob elected a nobody, and allowed
that nobody to run the town under martial law.
What was going on? This sounded like the story that would catapult me to
prime time. Afterwards, Kikero told me that the less I was to speak of this,
the easier my days would go. I’m at the end of my life now, and God made me to
be a journalist… so at last I’m journaling. Damn the consequences.
I drove into the town. It seemed nice enough. I pulled up to a gas
station to ask the owner how I could get in touch with this new mayor. The
owner was sobbing as he gave me directions.
I found Kikero at his desk, rather violently scribbling notes on some
old scroll-like page. When I caught his eyes he stood and shook my hand like a
gentleman. I noticed how short he was then; must’ve been five foot even. He tip
his cowboy cap at me as he introduced himself. Kikero. I told him I was from
the daily over in Omaha. He asked how I heard about him. I lied smiling.
He told me, “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll tell you the whole truth, far
more than you need or want. In return for that knowledge you won’t report this
story.”
I lied. He replied, “Walk
with me.”
We walked.
“A long time ago I made the worst decision someone like me
could make. I chose the wrong side. I knew it as soon as I’d done it. Sometime
later I heard a rumor that at the end of my time there was a chance, the
smallest chance imaginable, but a chance nonetheless, that I would be
forgiven.” Kikero smiled at me as he looked up into my eyes. “So, since then
I’ve been taking odd jobs all over the world waiting for the end; for grace.”
We entered a barn. Inside were thousands of glass vials filled with what
looked like water. “There are only so many tears allowed in the world at one
time. Problem is, as soon as they hit the ground they don’t count anymore. So
I’ve been holding onto them, in this barn. Trying to limit the circulation.” He
sighed, “Last week someone snuck in and broke many years worth of progress.
I’ve been working hard to get things back to the way they were; scratching that
number back down.” Tears began pouring down my face. Kikero snatched an empty glass from his pockets and held it under my
cheek.
“Thanks. This will help.”
I liked both stories but my vote goes here mostly for originality. But it was pretty close...
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