Hall of Kings
Brian Eckert
Writer. Wanderer. Dreamer. Skeptic. Man.
February 13, 2018
leave a comment
December 19, 2017
Vanishing Point
This story published in Soft Cartel
I.
Greg was driving out West because he was out of ideas.
He passed through a long stretch of nothing but golden fields and the occasional billboard. Roads crisscrossed the fields, perfectly straight.
The plains appeared endless. Greg felt he was falling farther back, back into the plains. He was certain that if he turned down any one of the long, straight roads he would drive on forever
Greg’s great, great grandparents from Germany had been farmers in Kansas. The Old World must have been truly intolerable to them to make these abysmal plains a better prospect.
The Europeans who populated America hadn’t been looking for “freedom” or a “better life.” They were simply tired of the ways of their forebearers. America might be better than the Old World, or it might not. It might even be worse. But at least going there represented a break with tradition.
Greg felt like the mere outcome of historical forces. In driving West he sought to escape his past. Yet he was only going deeper into it.
There truly was nothing new under the sun. Out here in the plains one understood this, viscerally. One was naked before self, history, and god in the plains.
December 16, 2017
Emperor in Exile
A man with a mustache and glasses is kneeling over his garden pulling weeds. He spots me and motions me over.
“You are that American, nay?” he says. “I heard you took the apartment in the back. My name is Wolf.”
“I’m Brian. Nice garden, Wolf.”
“Not bad, nay? It keeps me busy. And you? What are you doing in that damned tiny apartment all day? You know it used to be a horse stable.”
“I’m a writer.”