where are the others?

where are the others?
henry harris woke up on his park bench
earlier that evening, when he had fallen asleep, the park was filled with people
rick rogers, the sheriff, had allowed him to sleep on the bench
everyone in town had been celebrating the great victory over the powers of darkness

armageddon had come and gone
remembering it brought tears to henry's eyes
ecstasy had been the order off the day

the whole town now seemed deserted
henry walked away from his bench
expecting to find the rest of the townsfolk around the corner

on a telephone pole a sign was attached
"the joke is on you" it read
henry rubbed his eyes
every cell in his brain throbbed
rick rogers and the rest of the townsfolk had seemed like good people
so what had happened?


Jon said...

was it a dream or was the waking only a figment of his mind???

I like what you've done with this piece... it reminds me (again) of some of what I got felt going on in Molloy and Malone Dies (but also for sure in this text too)... that kind of wandering and wondering when everyone is going to let you in on the big prank... when I find this kind of feeling in Beckett's work I always wonder if he's talking about the kind of angst that (I suppose) we all feel from time to time... our place in the world...

I've sort of borrowed bits of this theme from your last few posts (and also the playing with the naming from "No more stories from this day forth") for the posts you'll see above...

Harlequin said...

I like the feeling of desolation that undergirds this... the notsosureness of anything that might have been as sure before...quite nicely done