The Furrowed Brow
Page 2
service is absolutely unacceptable,” before slamming his door. Each day this week has passed in similar sequence, with the old, curious crow dismissing my humble service as inadequate and slovenly.
Additionally, he continues his discomfiting, stumbling routine up and down the stairs three times per day, his arms extended, his eyes closed, and his brow furrowed with deep concentration. I wonder if he is losing his grip on reality, his body manifesting the blind, detached wanderings of his brain. How he manages to stay upright and not plummet to his death while completing his stair circuit is a profound mystery to me. Though guilt nags me to contemplate such a tragedy, perhaps I would feel a rush of relief if he were to topple down the stairs to his demise.
I do not know how much more of his wretched behavior I can stand. His arrogance is wearing on my senses. He responds not like a dog that announces its coming with uproarious barking and blatant bites, but he approaches like a creeping cat, elusive, disinterested, yet always lurking around each corner with claws poised. His ingratitude tickles my constitution, not with playful fun, but with nerve-wracking anxiety. He disapproves not only of my work but my person as well. Such behavior should not be found in a friend.
It is this fact that perplexes me, for he has abused his position of privilege, without regard for the one who has worked to provide it for him. His callousness to my sensitivities is driving me to experience foreign feelings of bitterness, envy, and resentment. He is the cause of my soul’s irritation. This agitated state cannot be allowed to continue. I will inform him of my experiment and promptly end this horrible misunderstanding.
June 22nd, 1705-
Case Study #73
No behavior short of causing the death of another could equal his prideful disdain of my explanation of these woeful events. The old, crafty hawk does not realize the measure of his irrational folly. Early in the week, I requested a private dialogue with him, following yet another disheartening stroll through the garden. I divulged the entire breadth of my experiment. He listened without expression, as if totally unmoved by my story. After a moment, his brow furrowed with great effort and his lips motioned as if about to smile knowingly. I nearly smiled myself, hopeful to identify with his embarrassing realization of the whole backfired saga. The smile, however, did not appear, but his mouth simply uttered, “Your service is absolutely unacceptable.” Then he swiftly turned and, without another word, headed back into the house.
I stood in the garden, mulling over my newfound anger. I knew at that moment that all traces of sensibility and sensitivity had been removed from him. He was intoxicated with his own sense of authority, and there could be no reasoning with him.
It has proved tremendously taxing since that morning in the garden, but I have attempted to fulfill my duties with dignity. Power has poisoned his mind so that he cannot entertain proper thought processes any longer. I cannot allow this to continue because he is bringing about my demise. I must regain my position of authority and smother his rebellion against my good graces.
His evil has increased since that morning in the garden. He has begun giving and throwing away household possessions, such as furniture, dining dishes and utensils, and family portraits, without my consultation or permission. Furthermore, upon our dreadful morning strolls through the garden, I have noticed that many of the flower arrangements, which I have poured hours of careful effort into, are trampled and carelessly strewn about. If these rude behaviors are not enough, he seizes his meals from the dining table without a word of gratitude, distaste, or apology, and he immediately retires to his room to eat in solitude, leaving me confused and alone.
Somehow, I must penetrate the wall of stubborn resistance to reason that surrounds his soul. For this cause, I have written an apologetic and explanatory letter, describing the full extent of my experiment and my fervent desire to end the harrowing conflict it has created. If he does not comply with my wishes, I will be forced to take drastic action, for I cannot allow his thirst for power to remain unquenched at the expense of my well-being. He has destroyed our friendship, and surely there is no extent of malicious mischief to which he will not reach.
June 29th, 1705-
Case Study #73
With sensibilities scattered, I intend to bring my experiment to an abrupt conclusion. The old, fading vulture has taken my letter without heed, exposing the finality of pride and power that have consumed his being. His mind and heart remain completely numb to reason or feeling. His furrowed brow marks the seal of his fate, for it reveals his inability to conceive of my good will or true rights as the real master. It is with this understanding and the sentiments of an unbearably heavy heart that I must embark upon a most regrettable task.
I must eliminate the subject from the experiment.
Though doubt casts a shadow over my heart, my intellect must maintain logic as its true course, for if the subject is permitted to continue his destructive behavior, then all will be lost. For this reason, I have devised a plan to end this long-standing dilemma. There is no desire in me to see the subject suffer, so I have procured a poison to place in his nighttime tea. He will be unable to feel the remedy for his destructive streak. It is the least I can impart to a subject I once considered to be a friend.
Two evils war within by bewitched brain, an impulse to conclude the experiment as stated and a fleeting fancy to prolong the experiment, hoping perhaps that the subject will stumble again upon his senses. I cannot, however, allow lack of reason to govern such a decision as to grant the subject additional grace, for it has been proven that such an act has already been abused multiple times. There is no alternative procedure that can be applied at this point.
The subject must be eliminated.
June 31st
It has taken three days for me to gather my thoughts. The experiment is over. There is no reason for me to continue studying. These mere words cannot contain what dwells within me now, for the poison has taken its full effect.
The night of the subject’s elimination will live with me forever. After completing his third and final round of surmounting and descending the stairs for the day, I accosted him at the bottom of the staircase and demanded one last time for him to explain why he insisted on repeating the bizarre ritual. I longed to give him a final opportunity to express his awareness of the peculiarity of his actions and, subsequently, reclaim his sanity. Rather than seize the chance to reenter my good graces, however, Philip crinkled his forehead, looked at me dully, and confirmed again that he had no conceivable idea to what I was referring.
Afterward, he demanded that I prepare his evening tea. He followed me into the kitchen and stood waiting with his arms folded while I performed the task. With a petulant snicker, he swiped his cup of tea from my offering hands and hobbled to his room, slamming the door with finality. I then waited in a nervous fit for several hours, after which I cautiously crept to his door and quietly opened it.
Entering the dark room, I saw the old, confident eagle perched upon his pale pillow, eyes staring fixedly ahead. He did not flinch or shudder when I moved to his bedside. His face was void of color and expressionless, except the presence of his furrowed brow. Breathing a relieved, yet troubled sigh, I gazed down at the empty tea cup on his nightstand with satisfaction. I had nearly slipped away to gather the gardening tools for the burial preparations, but I noticed a folded piece of paper lying next to the empty tea cup. I picked up the letter and read it in deadly silence.
Dearest Sir Anthony,
It is with the deepest gratitude that I thank you for allowing me the honor of participating in your intriguing experiment. Your generosity has been a privilege to partake in, and I consider myself undeserving of such good grace.
I must inform you that this fanciful event provoked in me an extravagant curiosity to study your behavior. Consequently, I have been conducting my own experiment within the context of your experiment in order to evaluate
your responses to my responses. It has proved quite fascinating, and I am grateful for your involvement, though unsuspecting as it has been. We have learned much about each other, and I consider you to be a good friend.
With these things in mind, it is my purpose to end the experiment tomorrow, after which we may have the opportunity to compare notes and determine the validity of our initial hypotheses. Once again, I thank you for providing such a marvelous study, and I look forward to our further friendship in the future.
It has been an honor to serve you,
Philip
Acknowledgements
A special thanks to the creative writing class at Evangel University, where this short story was born, raised, and sent out into the world.
About the Author
Eric Praschan has been writing for more than 20 years, focusing on suspense fiction. He holds a B.A. in English and a M.A. in Theological Studies. His favorite authors range from Stephen King to C.S. Lewis. He has many years of experience in drama, music, teaching, and higher education. Eric lives in Missouri with his wife, Stephanie.
Connect with Eric online:
Website: www.ericpraschan.com
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