The Cloak of Nothing: Chapter 61

by Mark Figueroa aka Anthony Abyss | Featured Art by A Forgotten Pen at @theforgottenpen


Chapter 61: The Metaphysics of Morals.

I picture my room at Eliza’s house and kick my shoes off when I’m standing under the

 windows in the ceiling. I slide out of my pants and pull my shirt off, giving my armpits a quick whiff before materializing my dressy, button-up long-sleeve shirt, slacks and black dress shoes.

The warmth of the clothes covers my body the more I focus on how they feel, until I feel the fabric surrounding my skin. I stick my hand out and picture my gray Easter tie falling on my palm. The tie slides off my hand and hits the floor. 

 “Young Emery… can you not—”

“I can’t picture a tied tie on my neck…” I say, embarrassed. “Besides, you’re a dog. You wouldn’t know what this is like.” 

“Now. But, I took human form in what is now Konigsberg, Germany for seventy-nine years. It was a time where the human fashion was far more intricate than the garbs you wear today. I know the complexity that goes into tying a tie.”

The tie vanishes before I can pick it up. Warmth surrounds my neck. 

“Thanks,” I say. This time without the sarcasm. “Seventy-nine years is a long time.” I smile at Kanti slightly surprised. “Where’s Konigsberg anyway?”

“It’s a long story… several long stories actually…  Simply shadows of the past,” Kanti says nostalgically. “It was a time when the human condition was a popular topic. Prussia was a beautiful place. Anyway, Young Emery, if you can believe that it can be done, then it can be. One does not have to necessarily understand the feel or relative consequence of an object or action to picture the outcome. Visualize success.”

“Emeryyyy!” Eliza shouts from downstairs when the door slams shut.

I warp to the kitchen and walk down the hall to the front door. 

Eliza sets several bags down.

“There’s a frozen block of what looks like soap foam out front. Care to explain how that got there?”


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Headlines

Silence sneaks in like a cat in the night. It taps over the concrete, swiping at corners and shiny objects. The black cat of darkness is a silent soliloquy of sadness. When it speaks the veil of the world exhales its wisdom. Lost on our ears, we suppress the knowledge of the ancients through unnecessary … Continue reading Headlines

The Cloak of Nothing: Emery and the Exiled King

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