The Painter's Story: Prologue – Playing Sides
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I had just arrived at the market when I felt a hand reaching into my pocket.
“Get out of there!” I shouted, slapping it away.
I turned to see a man raise his empty palms.
“I was just leaving a gift," he explained.
“A gift!" I scoffed.
He pointed to my jacket. “You have been given a charm for protection—”
“Just go—"
“—In your pocket. You will see.”
And in my pocket, there was indeed something to see: a tiny bricolage of burlap and twine, its occult pretensions emphasized by the runes and signs with which it had been inscribed.
“What’s this?” I demanded.
“A charm for your protection,” he said again. “You have been marked for the darkest hour.”
I shook my head at his nonsense and considered tossing the trifle at his feet. But I saw that we were attracting attention. One of the onlookers had clambered up a lamppost for a better view; others were pointing from a rooftop nearby.
He turned his head cautiously from side to side and warned: “Nothing else stands between you and the unrequited!”
“Why are you doing this?” I demanded.
He seemed surprised by the question. “Shall a man turn his back as a fellow is being swept to sea?” He leaned towards me. “The devil is seductive. But let him wrest this gift from you, and all is lost—”
He was interrupted by a commotion as one of the onlookers fell into a fit, and her neighbours—many of them disfigured and covered in filth—pointed accusing fingers in my direction.
And from behind them came a voice: “The devil is indeed seductive! He dispenses poison and calls it a cure!”
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“I don’t know what’s going on,” I confessed.
The man stepped into view. “You are spellbound,” he explained. “Your friend has bestowed an evil charm.” He nodded to the cultists, bobbing and whirling ecstatically on the other side of the street. “He wants for you to join them.”
I held up the totem, and his eyes narrowed. “You must repudiate that accursed thing without delay—”
The other was aghast. “For the love of God,” he pleaded, “cover your ears to this deceit—”
"—The moment will be on us!”
I could feel my stomach rising as I turned from one to the other. The crowd chanted and swayed in giddy anticipation. A buzzing began to fill my ears.
Then from behind me, a voice whispered, “Open your eyes, man! Can’t you see it's the devil playing both sides?”
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I looked again, but I couldn't make sense of what I saw: the antagonists sported the same face, the same clothes, the same mannerisms.
I turned to the stranger behind me. “How is this possible?” I asked.
“Come,” he said, taking me by the shoulder. “We should leave before he cooks up another scheme.”
“And what about this?” I asked, holding out the totem.
And he explained: “To accept the need for protection is to affirm the devil’s power to overwhelm. To repudiate his charm is to affirm his power to undermine. It is better that you laugh at these manoeuvres."
He gestured to the others. "You see?”
The antagonists wore the same sheepish grins at having been exposed.
“I still don’t understand,” I confessed.
The other laughed. “Follow me," he said, "and you will see!”
And so, having learned nothing from my encounter, I let the stranger lead me away, while the crowd swayed and the devil, still grinning to himself, danced with his own likeness.
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continue to episode 1