Intercession III

               When the act concluded and the curtains lowered, silence descended onto the theatre’s floor.

In the audience seats, two figures sat quietly and enjoyed their drink until the sound of an ice cube gliding against the glass broke through the stillness in the atmosphere.

Turning to the young boy next to him, Cheshire asked, “How much of that did you anticipated?”

“Within expectations,” the boy replied bluntly.

“You don’t seem happy about that,” Cheshire said as he observed the boy’s face for any form of reaction.

Keeping his composure, the boy denied Cheshire’s statement, “I have no idea what you are referring to.”

“Does it get boring?”

“What does?”

“Being able to predict the course of future events. Does it get boring knowing the ending without going through the journey?”

Turning his head and looking directly into Cheshire’s golden eyes, the boy simply uttered one word, “No” before returning his attention to the stage.

Ignoring the boy’s comment Cheshire continued to talk.

“Even being who we are, we are unable to predict the future. The future itself is never fixed; it is an ever-changing thing made up of a series of coincidences. The future is not shaped by one single event nor an individual, it is shaped by a series of decisions made by a multitude of actors on the grandest of stage.”

“Where are you planning to go with this?” The boy interrupted Cheshire.

“After so many years, you haven’t heard of the saying, ‘Patience is a virtue’?” Cheshire replied, his expression revealing a slight annoyance at being interrupted.

Resuming his prior speech, Cheshire continued, “It is not possible for anyone, angels nor devils, to monitor the multitude of things that contribute to what the future would be. That’s why I’m fascinated by you. While you may not be able to see things with absolute certainty, you are able to identify and isolate the factors that will have the greatest impact on shaping a future outcome.”

“What’s do you want Cheshire?” The boy asked.

“Absolutely nothing from you. I am simply curious about what type of ending you are seeing with those eyes of your.”

“They will be the ones to shape their own ending. I’ve left it up to them now. I am just here to watch over the course of events. Whatever ending they choose, I’ll accept it.”

“Even if it’s not the one you desire?”

“Even if it’s not the ideal ending.”

“I see,” Cheshire nodded. “A simple arrogance fitting for someone such as yourself.”

“It is not arrogance; it is the truth.”

“I see that a second opinion is needed,” Cheshire said as he tapped his cane against the floor to summon Urd to his side.

“My dear, would you let our new guest in? I do believe he has been waiting for a while,” Cheshire told her.

“Right away sir,” Urd nodded as she left the auditorium only to return a moment later bringing with her a man dressed in a black tuxedo, his red hairs neatly combed to the side. Despite his neat and tidy appearance, the way he carried himself revealed the difficult life he used to lead.

He walked with steady step; his footsteps resounded through the quiet auditorium. His gaze, constantly alert, examined all corners of the theatre as he followed Urd, keeping a comfortable distance between her and himself. His arms, large as tree trunks, relaxed by his side as he moved, but always ready to react if necessary.

Upon reaching Cheshire’s seat, Urd bow and left, leaving the man behind, standing in the walkway.

“Welcome,” Cheshire said as he looked at the man from his seat.

“Thank you for the invitation,” the man replied.

“How does it feel to be here?”

“A bit strange…,” the man admitted. “It’s my first time being able to watch a play.”

“Feel free to take a seat next to our guest there,” Cheshire said while pointing his cane toward the seat next to the boy.

Taking his seat, the man looked at the boy next to him, when a sense of nostalgia rose in his mind. The boy’s face looked strangely familiar but at the same time, the man could not put a finger on where they could have met.

“It has been a while Marcus,” the boy greeted him as if he could read his thoughts.

“Have we met?” Marcus asked.

Just then, the boy transformed, his body growing taller, his face becoming older as he continued to look at Marcus. Sitting in that chair was no longer a boy but a man dressed in a formal business attire.

Seeing the boy’s face Marcus sighed in resignation. “No wonder I couldn’t win…”

“Now that we’re all acquainted, let the play resume.” Cheshire tapped his cane on the floor as the audience redirected their attention to the opening curtain, beginning the next act.