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Fabrice SchombergFabrice Schomberg
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by Fabrice Schomberg


It was during my watch

 that a neatly dressed substitute with a beard approached holding a book in his hands. He sat down next to me. Drifting through its passages, his personality suddenly projected itself onto mine. Now I briefly was enacting it, as if it were my own. Somehow it had been transferred onto me through the writings of the book.

  I managed to keep my own perspective intact, however, and, noticing this character transformation inflicted upon me, I turned and began to converse with him. He was now holding another copy of his book in his palms, sitting quietly and convincingly comfortable.

  Closely observing his every twitch, I noticed that his personality was not his at all, but that of the book which was transferred onto him, just as it had tried to climb onto me. He was content with my observation, as in fact he was a void entity, a parasite‚Äôs puppet, delivering its message through the passages and the pages of the book. But now the book was closed and no longer needed.

  Its thoughts were now consciously embedded, with his own self extinguished, transmitting only that which was written in scripture. For him, It was a successful transmission, at least, his ever-knowing glance gave that impression.

  Now I was

to turn the page.

  0


edited by Janet Cartlidge, copyright © 2013 Fabrice Schomberg


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