The Madman Of Tankhetet
There is a village in Amerjan called Tankhetet it is a quiet village that comprises of a few ramshackled buildings with an open square, where the local villagers meet daily to spend a few hours. They usually gather later in the day as the sun goes down.
There is no more than a couple of hundred villagers, most of them live quiet lives away from the hum drum of a bigger city. Every day seems to blend in to one, in this sleepy town, lost in time, in lost in the vastness of Amerjan.
You can go anywhere on the planet, and you are sure to meet someone, who is angry with life, someone who would rather fight and argue than sit and listen. Every town, every city, every country you go to is full of people who spend there whole lives angry with something or other.
Tankhetet is no different, it has its very own mister angry, his name is Jegamar. He frequently gets angry, if anyone dare contradict anything he says, he goes into a fit of anger, his face goes red with rage, his fists pummel the air in disgust, if you even question the validity of something that he says.
Yet one day not so long ago, Jegamar was walking towards the village square like many others do, he was confronted with a voice that said “Come here my friend, I have something for you”. Jegamar, looked left and right, he squinted his eyes and turned towards this man sat crossed legged in the corner.
The stranger spoke softly again “Come here friend, sit with me”. Jegamar stood on the spot, “what do you want” Jegamar bellowed.
“I want to show you this crystal that I found, I want you to tell me what it is”. Jegamar took a step over to look, “that is not a crystal, it is broken glass” said Jegamar dismissively. “Hold is my friend, feel the energy inside” said the stranger while smiling.
“You can ram that glass where the sun don’t shine” came the angry reply from Jegamar. “I am done with your time wasting, I have told you what it is, so sod off and go pester someone else”.
“I just want you to hold the crystal, then you can tell me what you feel” the stranger said, in an unshaken voice.
“Look here, I don’t give a monkeys backside, about what you have to sell me, just leave me in peace, before I really get angry with you” said Jegamar.
Jegamar, had had enough, he grabbed the shiny object, as if to throw it away, but as he grabbed it from the strangers hand, he tripped over a rock, falling to the floor with the object held tight in his grasp.
The stranger spoke again “can you feel it”, “you will feel the back of my hand” came the reply from Jegamar, reeling in pain on the stony floor.
Jegamar then turned his head to look at the object in his hand, it was gleaming, in the light of the evenings sun. Blood was pouring from his hand, dripping drop by drop onto the hardened ground.
He could see his reflection in the crystal, an angry man looking back, a man who would rather dismiss the words of another, than sit and listen for a few moments, a man that held opinions about things that he did not even understand.
It was not a good image for Jegamar to see, he was seeing his true reflection for the first time, he had no choice, he had broken his leg in the kerfuffle, and could not move. Just him and his reflection, nothing else.
The stranger had long since walked off to find help, to leave Jegamar on his own with his thoughts.
Jegamar was always too quick to judge, too quick to form opinions, he had little time, to reason anything through. Even his own life had not stood the test of his reasoning, he had never looked at himself, he had never seen himself for what he was.
Yet one day not so long ago, Jegamar was confronted with his true image, an image that was portrayed to him through the most unlikeliest sources.
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