Ordinary Men

‘What a beautiful day,’ he thought, staring from the train window, ‘perhaps summer’s finally here. Well, some fine weather would certainly make up for this morning’s little disappointment.’

He was an ordinary looking man- slightly shorter than average height, with a smaller than average build. His hair was short and mousy brown, and he had no obvious distinguishing marks- nothing to make him stand out in a crowd. His eyes were a steely blue, but he hid them behind slightly tinted glasses, so they were only remarkable if he fixed you in a stare, close up. To anyone passing he appeared to be quite calm and collected.

‘Just look at all those unsuspecting people,’ he thought. ‘well, it won’t be long now before their ignorance is eliminated. I wish I could see their faces when they watch the news tonight. Then again… they won’t understand, no-one appreciated it but me.’

He had still not fully recovered from his rude awakening that morning. He felt dismay to a very personal level, over what had happened. The police had been involved; indeed the police had started the ruckus in the first place. The entire neighbourhood had come out to the central square to get involved and dish out their opinions.

”You are all so dull, and boring,” he muttered to no-one in particular. He started at the sound of his own voice, and reverted to thinking in silence, ‘but then… a ‘normal’ exterior can hide a multitude of things, can’t it? … After all, I know a very ordinary seeming man, in a very plain, ordinary looking house, don’t I? Well, at least, I did. He was one of the enlightened few- I’ll miss him. Those girls though... I’ll not miss them, apart from the entertainment value afforded by their re-education. They looked ordinary on the outside; no-one would have suspected what was going on under the surface - apart from us enlightened ones of course.’

He paused to take coffee from the cart vendor. He gave the vendor the correct change and added sugar from a pocket dispenser. Unrolling a cloth from his briefcase, he took out a spoon which he used to stir the drink. The cloth he placed on the table before him, set the coffee cup on it and gave the cup a quarter turn before returning to his thoughts.

‘Ah... those hateful girls… misleading in their ways, utterly, utterly evil. But, it didn’t take long to put them straight again did it? One night with him, the ordinary man, in that ordinary house… in the special room... soon changed them.’

A group of kids caught his eye, playing football in a passing field, doting parents looking on.

‘None of you know yet, do you? None of you will ever see the doorway to righteousness, now that it has been removed so rudely. How dark and mundane your little lives are. How much beauty you will miss out on now, because…’

A passing teenager, bumped by the rocking of the train, spilt a little of her drink on his sleeve. She apologised, and offered a napkin, but he smiled coldly, disdainful of her presence. When she had gone, he blotted it with a napkin from a sealed bag in his case, carefully resealing and replacing the rest of the pack. He folded the cloth, returned it to a pocket in the case, along with the spoon now sealed in a small plastic bag.

‘Typical,’ he thinks. ‘She would probably have tried to draw me in, had I let her- all flirting and smiling, reeking of perfume… evil, like all the rest. And worst of all, she has missed her chance for redemption. I’m sure there would have been a space for her in that room. And she is exactly the type he would have preached to. I can picture her now, kneeling down by the others… receiving her dues. But, too late… no more. Those uniformed, uninformed sons of evil put paid to that. Public servants? I don’t think so… or a medal would be more in order, to commend him on his good work. Not to rummage through his house and temple in such a fashion. What sacrilege! And those girls… to carry them away in bags like that... to ignore their new-found purity. No-one understands- those policemen were totally ignorant. No-one at all understands, except me.’

Lifting his case he walked to the door of the train, preparing to exit behind the young woman who had spilt her drink. On noticing him, she tried to smile apologetically. He checked his watch, pretending not to have seen this. As the train slowed, he noticed on a newstand that some papers already had the story screaming from the front page. He thought of the woman standing around by the police cars when his neighbour’s house was raided. A reporter, of course. He could almost make out the pictures from here- all of the outside of the house. He doubted very much that anyone would be allowed inside for a long time, other than the police. He however, had already seen into the room. He had seen the twisted shapes that the abducted girls had become: how they had been bent to their captor’s will. None of them had proved strong enough to last long, though. As the news-stand passed from view he sighed with regret.

Then his brow lifted…

‘Of course… I know what I can do about this situation. I should have introduced myself to the one good neighbour long ago… let him know there was a kindred spirit. I don’t need to sit about missing my evenings’ entertainment. I can continue where he left off. I can spread the word as he did, purify the misguided ones….’

When he steps down from the carriage, he turns to help the girl off with her bags. Although she returns his smile warmly, feeling forgiven, she is absolutely unaware of the ice-cold hatred passing through his veins.