Selling The World

Selling The World

A Story by Cari Lynn Vaughn
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Meeting The Man Who Sold The World

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Selling the World

 

    I pushed passed the boxes stacked here and there and everywhere. The large house was filled with boxes.  Everyone else had thought ahead and packed.  I had been too busy to remember to pack.  All of the boxes upstairs were in use so, I ventured into the basement in search of some boxes.  I was moving after all and needed something to pack all my books with.  This move was rather sudden and I wasn’t at all prepared.  When it was suggested that I begin packing I was at a loss as to where to even begin.  I supposed that I should start with my books since that was the bulk of my belongings.  I thought of all of my books.  I thought of the Man Who Sold the Moon and a Stranger in a Strange World among others.    I should reread those, they were good I thought.

     I met a man on the stairs.  He smiled and brushed passed me.  I stood still for a moment, wondering who he was.  I felt sure that I knew him from somewhere.  Slowly it was coming to me.  Had he been in a dream of mine maybe?  No.  I think perhaps that he was a friend from childhood.  What was his name?  David? Donald? No.  The friend I was thinking of was Kurt and he was dead.  It couldn’t have been him.

      Suddenly I heard splashing and realized that the basement was flooded.  All of the boxes were ruined!  My quest for boxes was positively pointless.  I hoped none of my stuff had been damaged.  I waded through the knee deep water to see what had happened.  A buxom blond was searching through a box of old records.  The covers of “Space Oddity” and “The Presence” were visible along with “Nirvana Unplugged” in the soggy box she was holding.  The water had made the bottom of the albums deteriorate, but it appeared as if they might have been salvageable. I asked the woman what had happened, but she didn’t seem to know. She was too busy muttering to herself as she fished more records form the water to answer me.  I wondered if she was just stressed out or if she had been on drugs. 

     It was then I noticed a door in the basement wall.  Funny, I had never noticed it before.  I waded toward the wooden door in the wall and opened it.  Perhaps there would be boxes in there.  No.  It just led to more stairs.  How intriguing�"a subbasement or secret passage way.  I shut the door behind me to keep out the flood waters and headed down the stairway into the dim light below. I came to a set of doors that had stained glass windows in them.  It was a lovely sight really, the way the dim light shone through the blue glass.  I pulled open the doors and entered the underground cathedral. 

    Before me I saw a group of people sitting around in a circle. They were watching a huge pendulum swing in the middle of the room.  They were in the middle of some sermon or ritual, but I wasn’t sure what exactly they were doing.  I sat down beside a blond androgynous man in his fifty’s and asked what was going on.

      “We are waiting,” he replied.

      “Waiting for what?” I asked puzzled.

       “For a sign,” he answered.

       “Sign of what?”
       “In time you will come to see.”

       Just then the minister arrived.  He stood in his robes with his hands folded in front of him.  He bowed his head and spoke the strangest prayer.  “I will persist until I succeed. I was not delivered into this world in defeat, nor does failure course in my veins. I am not a sheep waiting to be prodded by my shepherd. I am a lion and I refuse to talk, to walk, to sleep with the sheep. The slaughterhouse of failure is not my destiny. I will persist until I succeed.”

      I looked at the man’s face and I thought I recognized him from the basement stairs.  When the man finished his prayer he looked up at me and winked.  When he smiled I shivered.  Who was he?  Why was I here? What was this place anyway?  I’d lost track of my original quest for boxes.  And I’d lost track of time.  I was supposed to meet my mother a half an hour ago.  As the man handed out something he called tiny moon-diamonds I realized I didn’t belong there. 

     Panicked, I jumped up and rushed out of the double stained glass doors and found myself at the bottom of a hill.  Was my mother waiting for me at the top of the hill?  I ran up the steep grassy knoll.  I ran past various groups of people that were walking along the hill.  Some were seated in circles, having picnic lunches.  Other people played Frisbee and Football.  I passed a woman in dreadlocks smoking a cigarette.  I noticed her in particular as she was the only one alone on the hill besides me. 
      Out of breath I came to the top of the hill.  There was a sidewalk and a gazebo.  I stopped and looked around at my surroundings.  There was a street just beyond the sidewalk and on the other side of that street was a line of old stores.  I headed down the sidewalk and eventually came to the more modern end of the town where the mall was located.  Still, there was no sign of the house or my mother. 

       I pulled open the door to the mall and headed inside.  I passed by the food court and several clothing shops.  I paused when I came to the bookstore. Lost and bored I wondered inside the small crowded store.  A book on the sales rack caught my eye.  It was a thin paperback entitled “The Greatest Salesman in the World.”  As I reached for the book the man appeared again.  He was standing at the corner of the tall rack, his one arm resting on the top of the backboard.  He took the book off the shelf and handed it to me as I stepped toward him.

      I took the book and looked up at the familiar face. Before I could ask him any questions he said, “This book will change your life.  It did mine.”

      Looking down at the cover and I thought out loud, “Who is the Greatest Salesman anyway? God?”

      “Or Jesus,” the man suggested.

      “Or Judas,” I countered.

      “Or the Devil,” he added.

      “Definitely Ben Feldman,” I smiled.

      “Or Delos D. Harriman or Moses maybe,” the man laughed warmly.  “This book here refers to Hafid, but it is meant to refer to the reader as well.”

       “Me?”

       “You.”

       “Not you?”

       “Me and you.”

       “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

       “Yes,” he said extending his hand. 
       I extended my right hand while still clutching the book with my left.  We shook hands and he gazed into my eyes and right through me.  It was then that I realized something.  

        “Am I dead?” I asked.

       Instead of answering he let go of my hand and led me out of the back door of the store.  I followed my white rabbit out of the mall and up yet another hill.  We came to the top and stopped.  In front of us were a dozen more dark green hills lit up by the brilliant light of the full moon and the stars above.  Then he gestured up at the night sky and at the millions of stars in the heavens.  After staring in awe at the beauty of the cosmos I found myself looking back at the man’s face. 

      Holding my gaze he spoke softly.  “I sold all of this.”

      “To whom?”

      “It doesn’t matter.  I am responsible for selling something that wasn’t mine to sell.  I am the Greatest Salesman if I can sell an entire world. Not just the world, but the heavens  as well.”

      “Who are you?”

      “I go by many names.  I want you to go back and tell the people of the world that the earth belongs to chaos now.  I am sorry.”

      “How do I get home?” 

      “Just over those hills there is your home.”

      I left the man’s side and traveled down the hill and up another.  I walked a long, long time before I came to the end of the hills.  When I came to the top of the last summit I found myself back at the door to my house.  The once bustling house was silent now.  Everyone had left or gone to bed.  There was only one light on upstairs.  I drew in a deep breath and looked around at the quiet street.  I was going to miss the serenity of the world�"the kind of serenity that I felt in that moment.  Finally I headed up the stairs of my porch and inside.      

© 2012 Cari Lynn Vaughn


Author's Note

Cari Lynn Vaughn
Inspired by a dream that I had after listening to Jordis Unga's cover of the David Bowie classic "The Man Who Sold The World."

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Added on May 15, 2012
Last Updated on May 15, 2012
Tags: David Bowie, Dreams, Jordis Unga, Nirvana, Og Mandingo, Robert Heinlein, Man Who Sold The Moon, Stranger in a Strange World

Author

Cari Lynn Vaughn
Cari Lynn Vaughn

Mt Vernon, MO



About
Writing is not a hobby or career, but a way of life and way of looking at things. I've been writing seriously since I was 9 years old when I wrote, produced and starred in a play called "The Muggin.. more..

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