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Fred, the Fallen Star
- LANGAA RPCIG
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41 Fred, the Fallen Star I was tongue-tied mind boggled when I saw him— a young stunted in growth frail thin legged dry-skinned brown marasmus Fred— and didn’t say anything. Bare footed, he must have trekked the treacherous three mile journey, left home at the twilight of dawn, when dark clouds shrouded the mountains, his brown innocent eyes sparkling in light hoping against hope. It wasn’t knowledge that ignited his odyssey, but the turbulent roiling of his stomach. So, he tumbled into me like a fallen star in the crumbling of light his hope and fear infusing my world. Yes, he tripped and stumbled, unaware, youthful, in the obscurity of my life his eyes gaping into mine like ghosts from my past and like an automaton, my hand reached for a ladle and, digging into a torrid pot, spooned him a morsel. And now I am left to sing his song, a song of the forgotten fallen star, hoping against hope that he’ll survive. 42 The truth is Fred’s scrawny image torments me. It won’t stop playing on my mind like a movie from the theatre of the absurd. And under all his drifting world of pain, the frail thin legged marasmus Fred, yearning to be fed remain bitter in the black tide of his life. How much longer can he sustain life on nothing? ...