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By Root 544 0

Rose’s affair with the Gorilla? After all, the men are always around, patrolling our property night and day. Nothing has changed. Guard duty on our yard! Right over our great-grandfather’s grave, covered in lemon flowers. Standing guard, rain or shine. Although it’s pretty obvious no one will venture past the stakes, they continue to terrorize us by shooting down birds. When I kill the Gorilla, they’ll murder innocents to set an example. They’ll be too happy to take the bait. Should I be giving them reasons to murder? But finding a better, more devious and refined means of revenge—not easy. They leave nothing to chance. It will be long and painful. Swallow my rage, appear resigned, play along. Machiavellian. If that’s what I have to do to get somewhere, so be it. Didn’t I rejoin the soccer team! Tiny steps toward submission. I’ll find my pride and my rage crumbling and I’ll be bowing and scraping like the others. Let him through, he’s in uniform! Look how handsome he is in his nice black uniform! Right, left! Right, left! Raise high the banner of death and armed force. We’ll get every last one of them, I’ll leave a trail of terror.

Stick him up against the tree. No, don’t bother tying him. He won’t move. He’s too scared. Bam! There he goes. The traitor. Throw his body in the truck. Bravo! Paul Normil, you are worthy of your uniform! I will stand at attention and present arms. If the beggars want to eat, let them come to basic training. One, two! One, two! Yes, but the problem is they’re too feeble and keep dropping dead. One less recruit. Throw his body in the truck. No pity. Our cause knows no pity. A place for those who have been hungry humiliated, frustrated for so long that they’ll throw themselves on plots of land like birds of prey. Shame on anyone who stands in their way. Shame on anyone who doesn’t understand that nothing can stand in the way of them sinking their claws into what they decided must be theirs at all costs.

Yes, but me, I am a young black man who passed two university entrance exams brilliantly and who’s drawn to study architecture. I want my peace and quiet. I want my freedom. I want the right to choose and decide for myself. Maybe the two things would go together, maybe the uniform I would wear outside of school would assure me high grades in school and permission to live how I want, to do whatever appeals to me. I am not so sure, though. Now, that would be an interesting experiment: university benches filled with two hundred, three hundred students in architecture, medicine, all Blackshirts. Why not?

Dr. Valois? Who’s to say he’s not playing along so they’ll leave him alone? He and his daughter, pretending to applaud. No, no, no. They were indifferent to what’s happening to us! And now this sudden attentiveness! …

I’ve been practicing knife throwing against the almond tree. The only tree that still belongs to us now, since it stands right in front of our door, just off the street, the only entrance permitted the virtual prisoners that we are. It turns out I have unusual skills. The trunk of the almond tree is riddled with wounds. I am wasting my rage and rebellion on it. Every day for two hours, I strike it mercilessly, from afar and from up close. I am really astonishingly skillful, even in the dark. Not once have I missed my throw. Ready for the circus. Paul Normil, Knife Thrower! I’ll frame Anna’s body with twenty knives without a nick. Blindfolded, I’ll trace her outline head to toe. Paul Normil, Champion Bladesman. From whom did I inherit such a talent? A man can learn a lot about himself as his life unwinds. He is what circumstances make him, as they say. Could my father kill him? He’s nothing but a coward. Good for nothing save playing at Jesus. Good at holding out his left cheek after being hit on the right. The beggars have learned how to handle guns, and here I am dabbling in knives. Is there anyone who owns a firearm besides the men in uniform and their spies? I will slip on the uniform to kill the Gorilla. That way I will get hold of a weapon with which to defend myself. I’ll give