The Grey Man: A Parable For Our Modern World | Forum

Literature is art right? Sure it is.

As I looked upon this wasteland of barren earth, I saw in the distance a strange, dancing light in the midst of hills. My curiosity swayed me to follow and discover the source of this animated orb of light. As I came closer to it, the landscape became more vertical, ascending and descending atop of multiple, large hills. The closer I got to the light, the softer the hills became, as if they were recently made by some unknown digger. Finding myself upon the peak of one of these hills, I could peer down unto the valley. Before my very eyes, I saw two creatures. I say creature as they weren't entirely human. Though they possessed human form, they lacked any faces. One was tall and slender, dressed up in rags, and it was at task to digging a hole. The other faceless thing, to my astonishment, was the light source. What I could only assume to be a child, it danced around the slender one, going up the dirt hills and sliding down them in reckless abandon and joy. Unlike its parent, it glowed brilliantly. I crouched upon the hill and I watched them interact. The child spoke "Daddy, come play with me!" The father spoke,"No, my child. I must work to secure your future." This exchange happened a few more times, with a request from the glowing child to the grey father to join him in his merriment, but a dedication to responsibility kept him from accepting the offer. As I watch the grey man's spade pierce the earth, I realized with each heave he began to age. As the hole got deeper and deeper, a new wrinkle, the further he hunched, and the further he darkened. So too did the child. His brilliance became dimmer with every strike of the spade. As his father became more decrepit, so did the child matured, until he was no longer a dancing light but a primal man. The child no longer desired to play, as he saw his old man work tirelessly at the hole. The child took up the other spade that was struck into the ground beside them and together they dug deeper into the earth. The old one could barely strike with his shovel, becoming weaker and weaker with every stroke. Until finally the old one could no longer bear the weight of his tool, and collapsed into the hole. With barely a whimper for his father, the son knew what he had to do. He took up his father's rags, placed them upon himself, and climbed to the surface. With a sigh of grief, he took to task burying the old man with the hill they made. When his father's grave was made, in a manner of ceremony he struck the spade into the earth as a tombstone. There he knelt before the mound, and cried tremendous tears upon it, soaking the ground beneath him. My eyes seemed to well up in sympathy to his sorrow. Miraculously, at that very moment, out from the mound arose a serpentine weed and bloomed an alien bud. The son, witnessing this, beheld this spectacle, and after close inspection, he rose his head as if struck by revelation. "I must work to secure your future." With strong virility, he took up his father's spade and worked the ground beside his grave. Again, I saw with every stroke of his spade, I saw life emerge in the flower, and life seep from the man. From this flower emerged a child, glowing in brilliance and vitality. It giggled and bounced about, free of its earthly chain, and began to dance among the dirt hills, climbing up to their peeks and sliding down the other side. "Daddy, come play with me!" it shouted with glee. "No, my child." spoke the dull, aging man in rags,"I must work to secure your future."