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31_days2005-08-02 01:17 pm
p0t-0-g0ld.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2005-08-02 01:17 pm
[Aug 2][Carnivale] Freak Show 31, Chapter 2
Title: Freak Show 31, Chapter 2: A school of morality
Day/Theme: Aug 2/A school of morality
Series: Carnivale
Character/Pairing: Ben and Samson
Rating: PG
“My Mama read Scripture to me. Matthew, Mark, Luke, John. Every day she read it, even before what happened… The first time she saw me heal. And if I ever nodded my head or looked off in some other direction—she’d snap the book shut and open again, or tap my head with the spine.
“Only time she ever touched me was when she shook me. And then she’d only grab my shirt.”
“Who you talkin’ to, boy?”
Ben looked up, his eyes trained on the thin line of light between two curtains. He could see the sleeve of Samson’s coat on the right edge.
“Nobody,” he shook his head. Had he been talking out loud? “Myself.”
“Hmm. You talk to anybody, you talk to me. Man’s crazy enough without usin’ hisself as company.”
Ben leaned further back against the wall, and winced. His forearm curled across his abdomen, where the wound still smarted.
“I ain’t healin’, Samson. Not all the way, anyhow.” The bleeding had been stopped and the wound partially closed when he had awakened, but now there was a thin blue line across his center; an open blue-black scar that would not vanish. “What’s wrong with me?”
“Hell if I know.”
“We need Sofie,” Ben sighed to himself. A moment later, he laughed bitterly. “If I died now, I’d be goin’ to hell.”
“Well, that may be.” As usual, Samson was in no mood to comfort. Ben had expected as much. “But it ain’t my place to decide the dealings of a man’s soul. That’s ‘tween God and the Devil.”
“You ever killed somebody?” To Ben’s surprise—though it did not startle him—the answer came without a word. “You did.” A sideways sort of smile spread over his face. “That man in Babylon. Shot ‘im right under the eye… The bullet stopped in his brain.” The scene played out in his head; it was as clear as day. And he knew, Samson could see it, too.
There was a very long pause before Samson spoke again, his voice hard. “If your tryin’ to scare me, kid, you’re gonna have to do a lot better’n that.”
The smile dropped off of Ben’s face; his tone became as straightforward as could be. “All I’m sayin’ is wherever I’m goin’, you’re goin’, too.”
“And what sorta brilliant conclusion is that s’posed to be?” Samson was half exasperated. Ben could see him now—he was sanding before the curtains. “All men are sinners? Jesus H. Christ, kid. I thought you’d have figured that out by now.”
“No need to get all sore about it.” Ben tightened the arm around his middle as he shifted to look Samson in the eye. “I’m just sayin’ is all. We’re all rotten in God’s eyes. Every one of us. He don’t believe in justice.”
There was a long silence as the two men watched each other.
“You get some sleep,” Samson advised in a low voice, his hands folded diplomatically over the top of his cane. “And you try to heal. Them folks out there, they’re gonna wanna know you’re alive and well.”
“Sure they will.” How much did they care, really? Ben couldn’t answer the question, so he just lay back down across the bench.
Footsteps and the click of a latch told him Samson was on his way out. But then there was a pause.
“You done some pretty hard things, kid. And some pretty good ones, too, I’ll give ‘ya that. Now I’m a far way from God, but… That’s what I think, anyhow.” And then, he was gone.
Day/Theme: Aug 2/A school of morality
Series: Carnivale
Character/Pairing: Ben and Samson
Rating: PG
“My Mama read Scripture to me. Matthew, Mark, Luke, John. Every day she read it, even before what happened… The first time she saw me heal. And if I ever nodded my head or looked off in some other direction—she’d snap the book shut and open again, or tap my head with the spine.
“Only time she ever touched me was when she shook me. And then she’d only grab my shirt.”
“Who you talkin’ to, boy?”
Ben looked up, his eyes trained on the thin line of light between two curtains. He could see the sleeve of Samson’s coat on the right edge.
“Nobody,” he shook his head. Had he been talking out loud? “Myself.”
“Hmm. You talk to anybody, you talk to me. Man’s crazy enough without usin’ hisself as company.”
Ben leaned further back against the wall, and winced. His forearm curled across his abdomen, where the wound still smarted.
“I ain’t healin’, Samson. Not all the way, anyhow.” The bleeding had been stopped and the wound partially closed when he had awakened, but now there was a thin blue line across his center; an open blue-black scar that would not vanish. “What’s wrong with me?”
“Hell if I know.”
“We need Sofie,” Ben sighed to himself. A moment later, he laughed bitterly. “If I died now, I’d be goin’ to hell.”
“Well, that may be.” As usual, Samson was in no mood to comfort. Ben had expected as much. “But it ain’t my place to decide the dealings of a man’s soul. That’s ‘tween God and the Devil.”
“You ever killed somebody?” To Ben’s surprise—though it did not startle him—the answer came without a word. “You did.” A sideways sort of smile spread over his face. “That man in Babylon. Shot ‘im right under the eye… The bullet stopped in his brain.” The scene played out in his head; it was as clear as day. And he knew, Samson could see it, too.
There was a very long pause before Samson spoke again, his voice hard. “If your tryin’ to scare me, kid, you’re gonna have to do a lot better’n that.”
The smile dropped off of Ben’s face; his tone became as straightforward as could be. “All I’m sayin’ is wherever I’m goin’, you’re goin’, too.”
“And what sorta brilliant conclusion is that s’posed to be?” Samson was half exasperated. Ben could see him now—he was sanding before the curtains. “All men are sinners? Jesus H. Christ, kid. I thought you’d have figured that out by now.”
“No need to get all sore about it.” Ben tightened the arm around his middle as he shifted to look Samson in the eye. “I’m just sayin’ is all. We’re all rotten in God’s eyes. Every one of us. He don’t believe in justice.”
There was a long silence as the two men watched each other.
“You get some sleep,” Samson advised in a low voice, his hands folded diplomatically over the top of his cane. “And you try to heal. Them folks out there, they’re gonna wanna know you’re alive and well.”
“Sure they will.” How much did they care, really? Ben couldn’t answer the question, so he just lay back down across the bench.
Footsteps and the click of a latch told him Samson was on his way out. But then there was a pause.
“You done some pretty hard things, kid. And some pretty good ones, too, I’ll give ‘ya that. Now I’m a far way from God, but… That’s what I think, anyhow.” And then, he was gone.