| The Creative Expressions of... Bill Vivrett |
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| Updated 03.02.06 |
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| Page 5 of 8 |
| The Troll... "Blue-they might hit our boy!" "I know," was all he said. "Just for bein' different," he mumbled mostly to himself. Harry got the messages and became one of the shadow people, skirting around the dark margins of the imagination, usually unseen but to God. Bonnie and 'Ole Blue thought maybe he had left town. Blue continued to study chess moves but there were no clear indications Harry even looked at the chessboard, anymore. He left no tracks. Meanwhile, the town vigilantes turned their full attention to the German-American dairy owner. After all, he was very much a reality and he still spoke with an accent. His name was Bergamann. Another German-American was Erich Stechbarger. Erich was a young father of five. He was a large, powerful man and the town's produce wholesaler. Erich drove to produce row's Soulard Market six late nights. He would leave town, driving north about 1:15 AM and return to deliver to retailers by 7:30 or 8 AM. One early morning in January, just leaving the town's north end, too late, Erich thought he saw something "What is tha"... He started to say but was unable to finish. Too late, he stomped on his brakes as a black movement flashed left to right across his headlights and he felt a light thump. He had hit Harry, who was already moving off into the brush by Joachim Creek. But, he was dragging his right leg, moving crab-like at an angle, like a wounded beast. "Hey!" Stechbarger yelled into the black. "Stop right there." "Come back here." "Now!" The angry commands because Erich was afraid it would disappear. Harry did come back. But he was hurt. Head down; a sordid specter in gray and black. "Take off that hat." "Look at me." "Are you hurt? Talk to me." Only then did Erich realize that this was a boy and he had hit him with his truck. Those were commands. Now Erich offered compassion. "How can I help you?" Harry seemed dazed, but after a pause- "You can give me a job tryout," Harry cheerfully responded. Quickly relieved, Erich answered, "OK. Do you know anything about produce?" "I've worked with farm produce my whole life," Harry responded quickly. "That long!" Erich teased. "OK, then, here's what we'll do. First, let me look at that leg. Then I'm driving straight to an all night clinic I know in the city." Erich kept his word. He had found his night man and never asked any questions. Harry worked hard and never volunteered more than his first name. For his part, Erich paid in cash and never told anyone about his new helper. Good help was hard to find, the war and all. Erich Stechbarger was, like 'Ole Blue, the right man, sent for times like these in Harry's young life. Erich was a Godly man, non-judgmental with wise counsel to offer when asked. Meanwhile, Harry had been living at the rough raw edges of reality in a place seemingly devoid of compassion and light except for Bonnie, 'Ole Blue and now Erich, his trusted mentor. He missed his dad. There was a mighty spiritual battle going on around him and within him. He could feel it. His time apart from Erich was an empty and frightening time. All around, Harry felt the presence of evil. At first it's ubiquity seemed curious, but, now...dismayed by the darkness and confused by the confines of his lonely world, Harry seemed inexorably drifting into a despair-a kind of despair from which there would be no returning. He became an enigma, even to himself. |