![\"\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/08\/The-Magic-Spot.jpg?resize=640%2C537\")
<\/h2>\n<\/h2>\nby Jeffery Bennett<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
A story inspired by Giorgio de Chirico\u2019s \u201cThe Melancholy of a Beautiful Day\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n <\/p>\n He lay in the grassy median of a road which bounded one side of a large inner-city university. \u00a0How he had come there, nobody knew.\u00a0 From his looks, though, his path had been a cruel one. His body showed the signs of a life wracked by insupportable pain.\u00a0 His face was hollow and sallow,\u00a0his eyes vacant, except for a glint that reflected a fading desire for mercy if not kindness.\u00a0 His ribs bowed outward like the bars of a birdcage draped in thin gauze.\u00a0 Scars and fresh cuts blended with welts delivered from an unknown hand.<\/p>\n He had come during the night and now that day had come he lacked the strength to move on.<\/p>\n It was mid-fall; the weather pleasantly cool.\u00a0 The cloudless sky was an intense blue, and a soft wind drove some dried reddish leaves down the median, swirling over his head.\u00a0 He took no more notice of these than of the passing cars and students. They–the drivers and students–took no notice of him.\u00a0 The students were by turns animated, self-absorbed, rushed.\u00a0 But all had\u00a0plans, plans encouraged and confirmed by the beautiful day.<\/p>\n At last, one student did take notice.\u00a0 She stopped, abruptly grabbing the hand of her companion. \u201cLook!\u201d she cried. \u201cLook there on the median.\u201d\u00a0 He did look.\u00a0 She continued, \u201cWhat should we do?\u201d<\/p>\n He answered uncertainly.\u00a0 \u201cWhat can we do?\u201d–with more uncertainty: \u201cNothing I suppose\u201d.<\/p>\n She persisted.\u00a0 \u201cOf course there\u2019s something we can do.\u201d<\/p>\n He–the same lack of conviction as before: \u201cHe\u2019s too far gone.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBut we can at least give him some food and water.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe won\u2019t–probably can\u2019t–eat.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe will\u201d.<\/p>\n Her friend relented, seemingly glad to have been convinced.\u00a0 They made to a small convenience store on the squalid outskirts of the campus.\u00a0 It was a dirty little store with bars on the windows. Here they purchased a bowl, a jug of water and some cooked link sausages.<\/p>\n They returned to the object of their mission.\u00a0 He was still there.\u00a0 They crossed the road to the median.\u00a0 She approached to within a foot of him and poured some water into the bowl, tentatively pushing it in front of him. He ignored it.\u00a0 Her friend laid the sausages before him.\u00a0 No response–but only for a moment.\u00a0 From what mysterious fount sprung that energy?\u00a0 He fairly leapt from the ground greedily snapping at the sausages, swallowing each one whole.\u00a0 He turned to the water and frantically slaked his horrible thirst.\u00a0 He laid back down, exhausted.<\/p>\n The students felt relief, the relief which stems from fulfillment of an onerous, unasked for obligation.\u00a0 They left and walked to their little apartment not far from the convenience store.<\/p>\n That night they worked on a common assignment; neither said much regarding the events of the day.\u00a0 Before going to bed, she said quietly, \u201cWe\u2019ll bring him more food tomorrow morning before class.\u201d<\/p>\n The setting of the sun had brought an uncomfortable drop in temperature. He shivered alone during the course of the night.\u00a0 He had shivered–always alone–during the course of many nights.<\/p>\n The morning came; they returned to the dirty little store and then to the median.\u00a0 He was gone. A slight depression in the grass remained.\u00a0 They looked at each other and again felt relief; but this time it was the relief at the cessation of an obligation which both feared would go on.\u00a0 Guilt followed on relief, a guilt short-lived.\u00a0 For these students too had plans, plans encouraged and confirmed by the beautiful day.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The Magic Spot: A story inspired by Giorgio de Chirico\u2019s \u201cThe Melancholy of a Beautiful Day\u201d He lay in the grassy median of a road which bounded one side of a large inner-city university. \u00a0How he had come there, nobody knew.\u00a0 From his looks, though, his path had been a cruel one. His body showed the signs of a life wracked by insupportable pain.\u00a0 His face was hollow and sallow,\u00a0<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":3223,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_bbp_topic_count":0,"_bbp_reply_count":0,"_bbp_total_topic_count":0,"_bbp_total_reply_count":0,"_bbp_voice_count":0,"_bbp_anonymous_reply_count":0,"_bbp_topic_count_hidden":0,"_bbp_reply_count_hidden":0,"_bbp_forum_subforum_count":0,"om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_uf_show_specific_survey":0,"_uf_disable_surveys":false,"footnotes":"","_links_to":"","_links_to_target":""},"categories":[425,271],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3221","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-contemporary","category-fantasy-story"],"aioseo_notices":[],"amp_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3221","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3221"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3221\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3225,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3221\/revisions\/3225"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/3223"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3221"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3221"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3221"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}