A Divine Appointment
By R. Fangler
It was a long and uneventful day of being cooped up in my hot room watching internet video after internet video about the impending police state here in the United States. I watched videos of activists being beaten and tasered by law enforcement as a result of standing up for their constitutional rights. I watched videos showcasing the newest drone technology designed to spy on U.S. citizens (some even have the potential to launch grenades!), videos that covered the underestimated threats of new acts which infringe on our constitution such as the Patriot Act and the NDAA. I spend a lot of time excavating the internet for obscure and forbidden information on my down time and over the past 5 years or so, right alongside the economic collapse, I have seen a growing internet community of activists, patriots, and friends of humanity.
It was only later in the afternoon when the sun had cooled down and I was sick enough of being inside that I left the house for a walk. As I walked up the street I happened to look down the railroad tracks and spotted a bright light out in the distance moving towards me. Since I lived right next to the tracks, I kept a close eye on all the hoppers and box cars that rolled through, rushing to my window or sometimes even running outside in my underwear in response to the rumble of the approaching train in order to get a look at what writers had pieces rocking on the local line.
The train howled louder and louder as it aprrpoached. There were only two hoppers on the line, only one of which was properly bombed with a two piece production by local writers Aser and Obese. The other hopper had a couple of hollow throwies, the names I can’t recall. I had seen this line before but I had my camera phone and wanted to catch a quick picture. After a couple of snaps, the train had already passed and was now quickly rolling eastbound away from me. I stood on the sidewalk along the boulevard looking after the last car, an old rusty, graffitied caboose, and watched it roll out under the orange-coaled sky of autumn like a ghost. That's when I saw the spirit disguised in a farmers hat equipped with a camera. I ran up to him.
“Excuse me, sir, are you a rail-fan?”
“No, I was just taking a picture of the graffiti on the train.”
“Really? That’s what I was doing, actually.”
“Oh, that’s funny, I’ve never taken a picture of graffiti before. Its funny that you’d ask me.”
“Yeah, I suppose it is.”
“Are you an artist?
“Yeah, I am.”
He was a scrawny middle aged Hispanic man dressed in blue tapered levi’s, leather loafers, a button up shirt, and a big floppy sun hat.
He held out his hand.
“I’m Jack, nice to meet you.”
Standing there on the side of Beach Blvd. talking excitedly amongst afternoon traffic, we had both understood. We had realized that this meeting, this moment in time would forever alter the future and more importantly and still more mysterious, we realized that we were acting as instruments in a grand cosmic tune.
“I have something I want to show you, Jack.”
He brought out a framed picture he happened to have in his car. Like a shaman he guided me through a picture of a dragon fly perched on a leaf with a Bible verse printed next to it. He told me that all things were connected and that if we listen to nature we can get the answers. He pointed out that in the picture, you could see the image of a Dove created by the shape of the sun light and the shape of a branch, explaining that God orchestrated that to send a message of his presence.
He told me that things weren’t going to get better or safer in this world and that it’s easy to be taken in by darkness. He told me that my decision to study English was the correct thing to do and if he could do it over again that’s what he would do because with a degree in English you can write novels and films and short stories. And so that’s what I’m doing.
I can still remember his last words that he hollered after me as I walked off into the distance down the railroad tracks.
“Alright Jack, so this was definitely a divine appointment aye?!!”