Sojourner

SOJOURNER

Chapter 1
Trutopia

A steady stream of invective spewed from the fat lady's lips with the
intention of causing as much pain as possible to the young boy who
stood wearily upon her porch. Her words shook him as they poured forth
with abandon-with no other purpose, except to completely wound the
object of her intention. Such an attack would have easily glanced off
those who are most impervious because of their worldly nature, but not
to the ears of one whom has never met an indelicate state of
circumstances in his entire life.
Therefore, the fat lady has done considerable damage to the gullible
expectation of young Perry Doppleberry. It was his misfortune to ask
for the favor of free lodging for the night. He presumed (through much
naivet?) that kindness would grace a bright-eyed, and travel-weary
sojourner, who believed that only righteous virtue, would merrily run
to greet him.

Sadly, Perry began to wonder if perhaps nature and all its goodness
were left behind in his little village of Trutopia. If it were not for
the advice of a certain sage who had elected to reveal his powers of
wisdom and enlightenment, he would still be dreamily prostate upon the
soft, verdant landscape of his village, pondering his salubrious
existence.
The sage's name was Mystery, and he walked the earth in search of
those who were full of complacency, hoping to evoke just a thread of
thought to what exist beyond the confines of their seemingly, perfect,
ideal world.
The old and bewhiskered sage happened upon Perry while he seemed to be
deep in thought in his little village, staring directly into the sun.
"Are you not fazed by the brilliance of the sun's rays, knowing that
you may become stone-blind?" asked the sage.
Without blinking, Perry asked with genuine bemusement, "Why, don't you
know that the sun is charitable, never imposing burdens of discomfort
upon the citizens of Trutopia? But since you are obviously a stranger
to our fair village, I will tell you that even our trees are heavy
laden with fruit that never falls spoiled from its stem. Look around
you. There are golden apples, luscious plums, soft peaches, plump
grapes sagging from its vine; all are abundant and less than a stones
throw away. Can you hear the meditative babbling of the brook that
beckons one to satiate his thirst? It is cold and pure, and never
overflows it's banks, because even the rain settles upon us in with
barely a palpable midst."
"Does darkness ever descend upon your perfect little village?" asked
the sage.
"Our sun cannot be eclipsed by darkness, whether by the night, or by
the shading of tempest."
"Do you sleep?" inquired the sage.
"We rest continuously under the benevolent rays of the sun, but we
have no need for sleep as you may know it. We call it musing."
"And what were you musing when I came upon you," asked the sage.
"I was pondering the ease for which my life here in Trutopia has been
graced. And yet for all its comforts, I?I felt moved to investigate a
puzzle that has eluded me recently. Namely, what lies beyond the
borders of my village. It has been a question that defies answers and
has caused some discomfort, which in contrary to what is natural," said
Perry.
The sage brightened at Perry's confession. "Then there is hope for you
after all. My name is Mystery," he said. "Because of the dilemma of
your heart, and the desire to seek what is greater than what your mind
perceives, I have been sent to you to show you what lies beyond your
confines. Your question has raised the attention of The One who is
greater than all; one whose face cannot even be looked upon without
being consumed by fire."
"But I could never leave my village," said Perry anxiously, " even
though I dared to muse upon things outside of my knowledge."
"But you must," said Mystery. "You have gormandized upon the illusion
of wealth that accompanies your existence, and neglected what is
necessary for enlightenment; such as truth, accountability,
responsibility toward your fellow man. Stay in Trutopia, and remain
blinded by ignorance, fostered by complacency. Leave Trutopia, and your
questions may be answered. Isn't that what every man needs to have
fulfilled within his heart?"
"But where shall I go, and how shall I prepare for such a sojourn?"
asked Perry.
"I will accompany you, though you will not see me, except on
occasion," said the sage. "There are certain things you must experience
for yourself, and trust in The One who is greater than all."
Perry Doppleberry took one last look at the sun, the fruit trees, and
the cool brook before asking the sage, "Will you lead me out of my
village?"
The sage, taking Perry gently by the arm, led him outside through the
vine-covered arch that guarded the entrance into Trutopia, and out into
the world.

Chapter 2
The Law and the Civil Servant

Still sore from the fat lady's berating earlier, Perry continued to
search for lodging. He wished his sojourn had a more auspicious
beginning, but he suddenly felt weary in this strange town that the
sage had led him to. Before seeing him off, the sage gave him a stern
warning. "Beware of the laws, that you do not become tempted to break
them."
"Laws? What are laws?" Perry asked, perplexed.
"They are rules made up by governing authorities. For instance, if the
law say's it is wrong to shout aloud in order to stir your neighbor
from his slumber, then you must abide by it. If you transgress that law
and your neighbor brings you to court, you must pay a fine or be
confined as punishment."
"But, we had no such laws in Trutopia, nor was there any need for
them. We lived in complete bliss."
"Perhaps you were blissfully numb to a greater law. A law that exist
in your heart but was hidden beneath all the comforts you
enjoyed."
"If it was hidden, at what cost was it to me?" countered Perry.
"Surely all the splendor of Trutopia was given for our pleasure. Isn't
this law an evil thing then, being that it was made to destroy the
harmony of my contented life, and to disrupt the tranquility of our
fair village?"
"The law was given to stir you awake from your ignorance and to give
you an understanding of your need to be saved from the consequences,"
said Mystery.
Perry, confused more than ever, picked up his suitcase and turned to
bid farewell to his guide, who suddenly had vanished.

Perry never felt the sun's burning rays and he was surprised at the
strange sensation. Beads of sweat stabbed at his eyes, and his tongue
grew thick for lack of water. A bracing mist from a fountain in the
center of town reached his panting skin, and like a desert mirage,
beckoned him to seek sanctuary at its pool. He reached his cupped hands
into the pristine liquid and drank like a thirsty camel.
"You there! Traveler!" cried a passerby on a bicycle, pointing his
finger accusingly and rousing the ire of any who may have missed the
infraction. "You malefactor! You criminal! Are you blind?" Do you flout
the law without a tinge of compunction?"
Perry wondered why the man was all a flutter and he reacted to his
condemnation in a quizzical manner. "Excuse me sir," he said, "But are
you accusing me of assuaging my thirst with a swallow of water-water
that flows freely from your cistern?"
"It's not for drinking water that I dare accuse you of wrong doing.
But the law is the law, and you have broken it with brazen
indifference. The law is posted clearly upon the sign. Read it
Traveler," he commanded."
Perry squinted his eyes; for the sign was nothing more than a brass
plaque bolted low to the short marbled wall that enclosed the
fountain-"DRINKING FROM THE FOUNTAIN IS FORBIDDEN BY LAW.' It is a
misdemeanor punishable by fine or imprisonment."
"But I was not aware of the law," said Perry, anxiously. "I am new to
this village and am not aware of such prohibitions."
"Ignorance of the law is no excuse Traveler," said the passerby, still
outraged by the transgression. "Surely where you once abided, you had
laws of your own?
"I come from Trutopia," said Perry. "It is a place where rules and
laws don't exist, for everything is perfect and harmonious. Only kind
words are spoken there, and the weather is always clement. The animals
are healthy and affable, and there are no such sensations as hunger and
thirst."
"What is your name sir?" asked the passerby, dismounting his
bicycle.
"Perry Doppleberry," he said, trying to sound cheerful, hoping to
conciliate the odd looking man and to temper his rough query. "And
yours, sir?"
"My name is not important," he said harshly. He was diminutive in an
elfish way, and a frown pulled his entire countenance earthward. "I am
a civil servant employed for the purpose of reporting transgressions to
a higher authority. You may rest a little easier once I tell you I have
no powers of arrest, but only to admonish the transgressor to deter him
from some greater felony. Lucky for you Mr. Doppleberry, that I haven't
aspired to Constable, or I would have dragged you by your collar to the
village prison to await examination by the judge."
The civil servant jotted some figures onto the page of a small black
binder, punctiliously licking the lead of his pencil between jots and
jabs. "You say you are from Truto?Truto?something-or-other?' he asked,
pecking away at his binder.
"Trutopia, sir. I come from Trutopia and I've been in this village
without food and lodging and am weary from the sun and my mouth is dry
for want of water. That is why I drank from the fountain. I was
ignorant of the village's prohibition of it."
The civil servant made no gesture of sympathy, but kept on jotting and
thrusting his pen like a parrying musketeer. Then, mimicking a sprinter
who had just thrown himself forward at the finish line, he furiously
through both arms wide as he tore off the paper from it's perforated
border and held it straight forward in a arrogant manner, right under
Perry's nose, as if he was daring him to dispose of it by eating
it.
"This is just a warning ticket, Traveler. But to be sure, the next
time you are caught breaking the law, you will be arrested and hauled
off to prison."
Perry tilted his head back a safe measure and reached for the paper
under his nose. "Jots and tittles," he said. "I see nothing but jots
and tittles and harsh strokes. His apprehension turned to perplexity.
"But this is madness. How can I appreciate your position with this
violent patchwork of loops and curves and strokes and scratches? I may
be a foreigner here but I must challenge the legality and the
legibility of this ticket."
Look here," he said again to the civil servant, pointing to the
apparent smattering and stippled hieroglyphics that were fused together
by thick, blunted graphite smudges, where no space between letters was
given any quarter, and the tittles were interspersed where no letters
warranted them. "How can I heed this warning when the letters are vague
and formless? Mustn't the letter of the law be unambiguous and defined
clearly? Or can I claim the fractious act itself is made ambiguous
because of my ignorance?"
"Clearly because of your logic you're no country-bumpkin, though your
mannerisms would mark you as one. I, for one, am a Civil Servant and
all the chicken scratching in the world would not change one iota of
this ticket. If you feel momentarily intrepid, then perhaps you would
like to challenge the ambiguities of the law by pleading ignorance?
Trust me Traveler, the magistrate may pity you as a fool, but would
mark you as a malefactor and sentence you to prison. Good day!" The
civil servant mounted his bicycle and was about to set his feet in
motion when Perry hailed him.
"What is this prison you speak so frequently of? In Trutopia, the word
does not exist. Is this a place of punishment?"
The civil servant sighed condescendingly, and said, "Maybe a dose of
reality would be a proper deterrent for what might possibly await your
future-if you insist on breaking the law that is. Perhaps I can do
society some benevolence; after all, this is what I am called for, am I
not? Come with me, and I'll retain myself as your mentor for a time,
and try to rid you of your ignorance."

Chapter 3
The Road

The civil servant's posture was rigid as his legs formed a steady,
methodical and circular pattern of kinetic motion along side of the
peripatetic, Perry Doppleberry. He labored to secure his suitcase and
switched arms frequently to alleviate the burden of its weight, another
sensation that distressed him and left him yearning for Trutopia, where
there was no labor under the sun.
With what seemed to be an impossible demand upon his body, and with
the interminable rise in the road that wound deceptively in a
serpentine fashion, Perry begged for a respite beneath the umbrage of
the many trees that grew tall and lush along the landscape. "Might we
rest beneath the trees for a spell, Mr. Civil Servant? This is a labor
that is unfamiliar to me." Between spats, he began to say, "Why in
Trutopia -"
"Yes, yes, I'm quite versed with the quality of life in Trutopia," he
said with irritation. "You've done nothing but pine for your precious
village with all your prating. But soon you will see why it was
necessary for you to leave, though on the surface you remain ignorant
for want of elucidation."
"Would an idle moment detract from my mentoring?" said Perry. Can we
postpone my future for the sake of my present suffering? I feel that I
will die before my enlightenment if my burden is not assuaged
immediately."
The civil servant was not moved to pity, but said cavalierly, "Bear
down Traveler, and exercise your will, for this is the last rise in the
road before we descend to the prison grounds."
The last rise was the steepest and Perry felt the necessity to forego
his suitcase along the road, making a point to pick it up on his
return. With the jettison of his accouterments, he found his reserve
and set his sights on the final steep gradation.
The civil servant rode in the same peculiar fashion up the slope as he
did upon level ground, never changing his rigid posture or speed to
facilitate his ascent, which became apparent to Perry that he made this
journey on more than one occasion and was suited for the trek.
"Do you ever find pleasure in digression of your duties Mr. Civil
Servant?" Perry asked, puffing short breaths but now keeping pace with
his mentor. "Shouldn't all manner of living be tempered with a measure
of pleasure?"
The civil servant looked aghast at Perry's supposition and almost
faltered from his pace. "Oh, poor ignorant soul!" he cried, this time
with paternal pity for a son who might have lost all his livelihood to
a flimflam man on what he believed to be a good investment.
"A measure of pleasure?" he bitterly intoned. "And how great a measure
should pleasure be meted out? Pleasures are a lure for the ignorant; a
wicked device wrought upon desires of the flesh. Avoid temptations of
pleasure, Traveler-avoid them like a plague. For pleasure is the ruse
of Beelzebub, a tool to undermine society's system of rules and laws.
You'll see that there are many in prison today who, like sheep to the
slaughter were lured to complacency with temptations of pleasure. Wipe
such thoughts from your mind and hearken instead to virtues of
diligence and hard work."
"Have you never taken pleasure in watching the stars glitter in the
evening sky?" asked Perry, still prodding.
"Never," said the civil servant. "Early to bed, early to rise."
"But you must have taken pleasure in the fragrance of a rose as it
swoons for attention on its thorny stem?"
"Flowers are for children and lovers. Therefore, it is a colossal
waste of my time," said the civil servant.
"Ah, but surely you've taken the pleasure of a furtive dip in a sylvan
pool without the hampering of your garments-tell me you didn't forsake
such an primal delight."
"Surely I did resist such a temptation," said the civil servant,
proudly. "If I want to take a refreshing dip, I take soap and brush and
scour myself in my own tub, which is necessary for good hygiene."
Perry began to rue his meeting with Mystery, the wizened sage that
provoked him to leave Trutopia and experience hardships and strange
discomforts to his body that vexed him at every turn. The civil
servant's disdainful denunciation of pleasure had also vexed him and he
pined in his heart even more for his complacent existence in
Trutopia.
Again Perry quizzed the civil servant's harsh opinion of pleasure. "If
all pleasures are so repugnant, then why is it in man's bosom to
experience them? Why does one gravitate so easily to satisfy such
longings?"
"Direction your attention to the temptations of Lot and his family,
Traveler. Lot, seeing and desiring the choice parcel of land, without
the slightest protestation, accepted Abraham's offer and made his abode
in sinful Gomorrah. It was an economically fruitful city, and offered
all sorts of corrupt pleasures. Lot became morassed in its complacency,
contributing to the wrath that would destroy the city forever. If not
for the intervention of angels, Lot would have drowned in the
bacchanalia of that wicked city and would have been lost forever. The
satiation of man's flesh is his ultimate downfall. Seek more noble
things-hard work and diligence, and you will prosper."
Perry considered the civil servant's moral illustration but ventured
further. "If I would have rested under a shade despite your urging me
onward, would I have fallen into depravity? Would my much needed rest
have been a source of pleasure?" he asked.
Pleasure for the sake of pleasure is the pitfall you must be able to
prudently discern. Eating, drinking, sleeping, bodily ablutions, and so
forth are necessary, but caution yourself not to crave them as
pleasures, which man becomes addicted too and consequently robs a man
of his Godly virtues. Look at Lot's wife; fire and brimstone didn't
deter her from looking back with yearning for her depraved city. She
became frozen in an image of salt-a monument of sinful pleasure, which
became her opprobrious legacy.
"Resting under a tree might have been the beginning of your undoing,"
he lectured further. "You craved the soft, lush grass and the cool
fanning wind upon your brow. Your idleness may have turned to slumber
till darkness overcame you because of your rebellion of the sun and the
labor that's done beneath it. You would have then stumbled home in the
night like a drunken sailor on a frothy sea-starboard to port along the
road-staggering from the hangover of idleness and slumber."
"Is there a law prohibiting these things you rant against?" asked
Perry?
"No. But laws are made to punish those who circumvent them because of
their need to perpetuate their addiction to pleasure; some steal, some
rob, some defraud, some perjure, and some-even murder. Oh, how
unthinkable are some of the offenses committed for the sake of
pleasure!" the civil servant cried.

Chapter 4
The Prison

Perry first saw the gothic pinnacles as he reached the crest of the
road. There were a number of spires that seemed to wilt under the sun,
and as he met the horizon, the entire prison loomed before him like a
medieval castle with parapets and moats and arches; their vertiginous
towers and walls interspersed with stair-stepped, rectangular slits
that were left unbarred.
From Perry's vantage he could see a number of diaphanous hands
reaching out through independent slits, each stretched outward with all
manner of gesticulations; some imploring and cursing with maddening
signs to be freed from the demons of pleasure that confined them to
such a hell.
At their approach Perry could hear wailing, echoing from the cavernous
cells that were hidden from natures light. It was a subterranean
dungeon where the use of candles were obviated, as they were frequently
snuffed out by the dense air; leaving men to navigate indefinitely
along the walls, groping the familiar contours of cracks and holes and
gouges, drowning within in the broth of total darkness.
The wailing resonated from a mixed chorus of misery; tremulous
baritones and tenors and screeches of ghoulish inflections broke
through the brick and mortar walls; their mournful despair invoking
pricklings of terror upon the naked napes of the most stalwart
observers.
The cries reached a maddening finale of various supplications. These
were cries for water, cries for light, cries for pity, cries for human
fellowship, cries for a soothing touch-as supplications poured forth
from the multitudes of the abandoned souls, their bitterness quickly
sounded a tempest of fiery curses when their cries went unheeded.
Perry stood before the opened drawbridge and the thick, insurmountable
bastion of isolation and human suffering. He was struck dumb by the
sheer weight of judgment upon those prisoners, whose faces he shuddered
to imagine.
Their voices?wait; their not really voices at all, thought Perry. Not
the typical voices one takes for granted during normal circumstances.
For typical voices do not shatter into guttural shards, severing the
tongue into pieces, or dissipate into lunatic babbling, or wander
hopelessly through chthonic halls of eternal damnation. These were
disembodied voices that hovered like phantasms upon currents of
stagnant air-weighted down and crushing itself upon itself in a sea of
futility. These were the voices of the damned?a parade of voices lost
in a vacuum of endless regret.
Between Perry and the raised drawbridge was a wide, circular,
bottomless trench, filled perpetually with a churning mire, and a
sweet, sickening stench of decay. Perry inquired as to offensive
odor.
The civil servant said, "It is the detritus of overindulgent flesh
that gorged upon pleasures before their incarceration. Only the
incorporeal remains of the prisoners are to enter into the prison,
where their souls suffer the full brunt of their crimes, where every
conscious nerve is bared to the severity of them, while their rotting
flesh remains outside, dissipating within the black swell."
"Do all the prisoners in the tower suffer the same fate as those
confined to the dungeons?" asked Perry.
The civil servant shook his head. "All crimes are judged according to
their severity, and all are confined forever, but those held in the
towers are allowed a sliver of light and a shadowy glimpse of the world
that they had esteemed above their own souls. Their punishment is an
eternal longing to delve back into the lifestyle of pleasure they had
once craved in their hearts, yet they had committed no felonious act to
accrue them."
Those confined in the dungeons are the worst of the lot. They suffer
in total darkness, insulated from all human senses-where only the
grinding of their teeth and the groaning in their throats interrupt
their wailing. They are the ones who have become rich by robbing and
murdering to support their addiction for pleasure.
They have fattened themselves with sloth and gluttony and all manner
of perversion. They have dined on the backs of servants and have
fraudulently withheld the wages from their labor. They lingered long at
the vine while their robes turned a royal purple from the stain of the
powerful liquid as it overflowed from their cups like pregnant streams.
They have premeditated drunken forays upon the flesh of innocent young
women, defiling their mind and body. That is why they wail-not for lack
of thirst or want of light; but for the lustful pleasures that once
seared through their veins and is now lost!"
Just then the drawbridge broke its seal, followed with the great
calamity of rattling chains. The chains secured the drawbridge forward
and aft, and its enormous size creaked and groaned like the hungry
belly of a great Leviathan. Its open door was like a gaping mouth
waiting patiently for its victuals-the victuals of human life.
Perry trembled as the drawbridge settled at his feet. Thinking it was
for him, he turned to run but was held fast by a sight that had him
transfixed.

Chapter 5
The Condemned

A dolorous procession of villagers stretched along the road, each
carrying materials of diverse value. Some carried golden tiles and
dishes and goblets, as well as silver candlesticks and implements of
tableware. Others cradled ornate ivory tusks and figurines and some
carried marbled tables and trinkets of all sizes. Overflowing from
handcarts were expensive garments of lace and silk, mink and fox furs
and soft leather sandals.
Sparkling diamonds and gemstones of rubies, sapphires, emeralds, and
topaz, were gathered in bags slung over their shoulders. Strings of
pearls hung limp from their jewelry boxes. Crystal chandeliers waved
and sparkled like jewels against the sun's rays.
A train of livestock stretched as far as the eye could see, such as
oxen, pigs, and sheep. Aged casks of rich red wine taken from cellars
were loaded upon wagons. More wagons struggled in line under the weight
of rotted meat taken from storehouses-meat stacked in piles reaching to
the sky.
Gold and silver coins jingled within their money-boxes as they shifted
along the bumpy road. Expensive Oriental rugs were tightly coiled and
carried by a man at each end. A team of Arabian horse's snorted in
formation, their bejeweled saddles riderless upon their backs.
One by one upon their approach to the mire, the villagers threw the
possessions into the trench to be devoured by the churning muck. Even
the livestock were led to their destruction.
As the possessions sunk slowly to the bottom, Perry quizzed the civil
servant on the seemingly perfect waste of such finery.
"These are the possessions of the condemned, gained from lawless acts
upon society. He can't take them with him, for he must suffer alone.
They are to be destroyed forever, for even they have become a defiled
thing. The intoxication of pleasure has sealed his fate forever, and it
would be wise to disdain such trinkets and finery."
The condemned man stood at the rear of the procession. He was naked
except for a cloth about his loins, and chains secured around his
ankles. His skin was as oily as a pig's on a spit. Rich, creamy
corpulent flesh hung from his body; his hands were effeminate and
manicured; his face bloated from excess and his mannerisms was that of
a pampered socialite. He was coiffuerd like a Roman Caesar, with the
look of haughtiness, and omnipotence. But when he saw his worldly
possessions sinking into the mire, his countenance changed, and he fell
to his knees, begging to be reconciled to them once again.
The man then shook apoplectically, with foaming and shrieking and with
violent seizures he was divested of his corrupted flesh; his image
metamorphosing before everybody's eyes. Instead of the torpid mass of
flesh that mocked the proceedings with unrepentant indifference, was
now a skeletal wraith-a sheer form of desiccated, mummified flesh. His
shoulder blades protruded like retracted bat wings; his arms hung
listlessly from feckless tendons, and his legs were as unpredictable as
stilts upon waxed, marbled tiles. His cheeks became hollow, sunken
implosions of muscle-his eyes a glassy veil of colorless film.
Then Perry understood that the condemned man was being stripped of all
his worldly glory and then casts into the mire. With the help of the
Constables that flanked the destitute prisoner, he crossed the
drawbridge and was escorted into the dungeon. The drawbridge then began
to rise and the winch squealed and whined under its great weight, until
it became sealed in its place.

Chapter 6
The Caretaker

The civil servant mounted his bicycle and said, "Well, Traveler, I
hope you've gained some insight as to the heart of man. Despite the
prisoner's judgment, he despaired of losing his wealth, though it was
gained by theft, fraud, and murder. It wasn't the crimes he was
remorseful of; it was the parting of his vices. Therefore Traveler,
beware lest such a desire comes upon you, and you become ensnared by
material things, invoking the wrath of the law."
"Oh, to be sure, Mr. Civil Servant," Perry cried. "After today's
lesson, I will live righteously, and above reproach."
"See to it then. Remember, you already have one strike against you.
The next one will send you to the Magistrate, and off to the
towers-unless of course, you steep to felonious infractions-then it's
off to the dungeons."
Perry shivered and the hairs rose on the back of his neck when he
recalled the horrible wailing and then said, "I will walk the straight
and narrow, and seek to understand every lawful prohibition, which will
make me a good citizen."
"Good day, Traveler," said the civil servant as he peddled off. "Take
the road that led you here. It's downhill all the way. Be careful not
to merge upon the wayside. There are many temptations around each bend.
Don't succumb to them. Hard work and diligence, Traveler-let those be
your guidepost. Wear those virtues upon your forehead and you won't
stumble."

The road back to the village was uneventful for Perry. He found his
suitcase and it occurred to him that he had no place to sleep for the
night. The sun was setting rather quickly found himself at a fork in
the road. "Why this is strange, "he thought, "I don't remember passing
this junction on the way to the prison."
Squinting his eyes against the approaching twilight, he saw that the
road to the right was harsh and narrow, but the road to the left was
broad and paralleled lush grapefields that stretched to the horizon.
"Obviously a prudent person would take the fork to the left," he
decided. So, Perry elected to take the road that was most
enticing.
Eventually, Perry felt weary from the long walk and the activities of
the day, and decided to bed down in the field. His stomach groaned with
hunger, so he sated himself with the plump, juicy grapes that hung from
the vines. Then he fell off to sleep.

"Wake up scoundrel!" was the cry that woke Perry from his blissful
dreams of Trutopia. "Wake up and give an account of yourself."
Perry looked up through the mist and saw a grizzled looking man
standing over him wearing overalls, a floppy brimmed straw hat and work
gloves, wielding a garden hoe. He held it like a club.
"I?I'm Perry Doppleberry," Perry said nervously. "I was tired and I
needed some rest. I am new to your land."
"I'm the caretaker of this vineyard. "Didn't you see the sign at the
fork of the road? It say's, NO TRESSPASSING! You have broken the
law."
"I didn't see the sign, Mr. Caretaker," Perry said, rising slowly to
his feet. I believe it may have been hidden, or removed."
"That is no excuse," said the Caretaker. "It is my duty to notify the
Village Constable. Then you will taken to the Magistrate to answer for
yourself."
Perry felt the grapes in his stomach go sour at the thought of seeing
the Magistrate, and importuned the caretaker to ignore his
misdemeanor.
"That might have been possible, if it weren't for the fact that you
are marked a Malefactor," said the caretaker, who, to Perry's
astonishment, seemed to be all knowing.
"But, how did you come to that knowledge?" asked Perry.
"Look at the brawn of your thumb," said the caretaker. "The letter "M"
is clearly branded which indicates that you are a previous
offender."
"How can that be?' asked Perry, feeling for any evidence of pain from
the brand. "I don't remember a hot brand pressed against my
thumb."
"Did you receive a written warning between you thumb and
forefinger?"
"Why?yes?yes I did. I had drunk from the village fountain. A civil
servant said I had broken the law and handed me a warning. But it was
effaced with all sorts of scrawl and scribble. It appeared spurious at
best."
The "M" was stamped upon the warning and transferred to your thumb by
your touch," said the caretaker. "The ink was then indelibly infused
into the pores of your skin."
"You mean it can never be removed?" asked Perry, vexed by the large
letter on his thumb.
"I suppose you could if you were to cut off your thumb, but wouldn't
that raise even greater speculation?"
"Then I guess I am doomed," said Perry, despairingly. "Perhaps I can
throw myself at the Magistrate's mercy. Maybe he will see that I am
only a traveler in his village and give me another warning."

Chapter 7
The Magistrate

Perry stood silently before the great bench as the Magistrate leafed
through the tome of well-used codes and laws. Its ominous hardbound
cover was black as ink; its pages frayed and faded to a rusty
hue.
After perusing some pages with a serious demeanor, the Magistrate
slammed the book shut; dust projecting from the written depths of
jurisprudence like a bellowing gust of wind.
"How do you plead?" he thundered, like a rifle shot.
"I'm innocent your honor," said Perry, feeling diminutive amongst such
rich surroundings.
There were large open beams splayed against an arched ceiling, with
portraits of previous Magistrates displayed along rose wood walls, all
gazing down with haughty postures of condemnation. The floors were
transparent tiles of glass; the banister before the bench was bronze,
the bench itself a colossal fixture of rectangular oak from where the
Magistrate wielded the sword of justice. Draped around his shoulders
was a black robe, like the wings of a great raven as he snatches his
prey from the earth.
Twin marbled pillars stood behind the Magistrate, leading to a crimson
veil, which further led to the Magistrate's chambers, but was
traditionally drawn shut during court proceedings.
"Innocent, you say?" said the Magistrate. "But we have eyewitnesses to
the contrary. You were caught breaking the law red-handed. How can you
plead innocent in light of the facts?"
"I broke the law in ignorance, your Honor. I come from a place called
Trutopia, where there is no need for laws-where everything is
wonderfully perfect. There was no labor under the sun, nor any reasons
for worry; nor were there hunger or thirst, for everything is provided.
Comfort and joy was all I ever enjoyed, until I found myself in your
village. Here I suffered things I never knew existed; hunger, thirst,
weariness, fear-and now, your judgement."
The Magistrate took off his glasses and brought his massive head some
inches towards Perry. "Why, I find it strange," he said, "that you
suddenly find yourself standing before me, and not ensconced within the
idyllic safety of your village. What made you leave such impeccable
trappings, only to journey here?"
"I?I'm not really sure, your Honor. I believe I was
feeling?unsatisfied. Something stirred inside me that I can't explain.
I began to wonder what existed outside my village. There was an old
sage who appeared to me and?"
"Enough!" cried the Magistrate. "Only now do I perceive your true
intentions for leaving your village. You intended to seek out more
pleasures to fill your cravings. You were not content with what you had
already attained, so you came here and broke our laws in order to
attain more.
Did you not fill your belly with the caretaker's grapes hung from the
vine-a theft that is punishable by fine or imprisonment? Did you not
trespass upon his land, so that you could sleep freely like some
vagabond without proper support? And isn't it true that you drank from
the village fountain, when it is forbidden by law? How now do you
plead?"
Perry's mouth was frozen open, ready to defend himself, but instead,
slowly lowered his head in resignation. "Guilty," he said.
"And guilty you are!" thundered the Magistrate, sanctioning the
verdict with the blow of his gavel. "You may approach the bench for
sentencing."
Perry cowered before the monolithic station of judgement, waiting for
the wrathful sealing of his fate. His last hope hinged on the
possibility of some trace of mercy from the Magistrate, and he fell to
his knees.
"Oh, your Honor, if I could only beg your indulgence for a moment
before sentencing. If there's any hope for a reprieve then I entreat
you to have mercy on this ignorant and unschooled traveler. I was
thrust into your village by no invention of my own. If it were not for
my inquisitive meddling into my own heart and soul, I would not be in
this situation. I mused upon sensibilities beyond the placid and
contented borders of my village; stirring my thoughts with such
emotions unknown up to that time-like love and hate, or fear and anger,
hunger and thirst. Though those meditations were nascent, it was deemed
necessary by a wanderer named Mystery that I should experience what was
revealed to me.
I was led to your village, untrained in the culture and laws of your
land. I was free to wander about, with the hope that I would learn of
things beyond my knowledge. But instead I found nothing but distress.
But it is only because I am a stranger here, a foolish castaway from
the seductive luring of Trutopia. I throw myself at your mercy and
plead ignorance of the law."
The Magistrate had heard multitudes of pleas for mercy in his long
career and was not swayed by Perry's plaintive argument.
"Ignorance of the law? Oh, how many times have I heard the same
regurgitated drivel?" he lamented. How many times have I heard the
argument of ignorance to thwart the righteous sword of justice? Must I
reiterate the old proverb to every malefactor that stands guilty before
my bench? Very well then-'Ignorance of the law is no excuse!'
So then, you are hereby sentenced to the prison towers forever, where
you will suffer the loss of all things that were precious to you, such
as your blissful and perfect life in Trutopia."

Chapter 8
Mystery

Perry stood again at the drawbridge. The mire came alive with
ravenous, frothy churning at his approach, like the belly of some
hungry ogre spying a den full of abandoned pups, licking his lips and
snapping his tongue before devouring his prey.
The mire craved Perry's flesh and blood, his very life. Then, the
multitude of gnarled hands appeared through the tower's rectangular
slits, clawing at the air with knotted knuckles and bleached, waxen
veins. They seemed to be impatient for Perry's transformation so he
could share their eternal agony.
But amidst the suffering wails and the withering hands, Perry did
something that astonished the spirit captives within the prison
walls-he fell to his knees and called upon the One who is greater than
all.
"Oh have mercy on me," he cried. "Do not allow my flesh to be devoured
within the mire, nor allow my spirit to rot inside the prison towers. I
have learned that the law is good, even though it was my transgressions
that have led me here. Please forgive the complacency of my life in
Trutopia, and save me from this despicable place."
Suddenly, the turbid pit roiled with agitation, its curdled lapping
formed into threatening swells, vomiting its flesh and treasured
possessions toward the surface, only to be sucked down to the depths
again. Its angry reaction to Perry's prayer had shaken the wailing
specters into a frenzy of demonic activity.
The curses of the damn filled the air-the strident imprecations from
those in the towers, and the muddled, blasphemous oaths of those in the
dungeons.
Perry felt paralyzed from the venomous ravings of the prisoners and
the vomitive flesh of the mire and was ready to be consumed forever
when a voice like a trumpet thundered with authority and all manner of
demonic commotion ceased instantly. The mire's tempest also receded in
submission from the apparition that seared the air with its radiating
brilliance.
It was the sage-Mystery, shrouded in light, and beaming with
glory.
"So, traveler," he said, "now do you understand why I had taken you
from Trutopia, that tranquil land of repose and lethargy? You enjoyed
the fruits of languor, but you were anesthetized to your need for
something far greater-the truth.
The One who is greater than all had sown the need into your heart to
know the truth, which is able to preserve your soul beyond this life,
beyond the life you had in Trutopia. While there, you remained in
ignorance, obscured from the truth. It was your introduction to the law
that opened your eyes to your need for mercy and salvation. And since
you have shown yourself contrite, you are spared from the mire and
eternal confinement within the prison towers."
Perry felt his heart soar with joy at Mystery's words, and vowed to
serve the One who is greater than all for the rest of his life. "But
there is one thing I asked of you," he said to Mystery. "That I might
be able to return to Trutopia to speak to others of the truth, and to
remove the veil from their eyes."
Mystery said, "That is why I had chosen you, that you might be a
bright and shining light of truth to the villagers; but remember-not
everybody will receive your words."
Then, taking Perry's hand, Mystery guided him away from the prison and
back through the vine-covered arch that led to the village of
Trutopia.

The End