Cast forth into the wind, a flock of sheep dive to their death. The shepherd of the flock; drunk on wine and out cold with the town's harlot. Ferdinand Keron, a travelling man short on history and long on lies.
Walking through the marsh that the small town of Irnsvale called a lake, Keron found himself with pockets full of weeds and socks soaked in the putrid waste of the power plant. Finding a rock to scrape his clothes on, he befriended the then owner of the church.
A man with no tongue, and thus, no name, he took pity and stale bread to the visitor. For the fact that he listened earnestly and honestly, the town dubbed him Father Harker. No actual figure in the church, he wore black in the style and respect of his idol, Johnny Cash. He was revered and looked upon with utmost respect in the small community of Irnsvale. This with all knowing he replaced the previous spiritual leader in a bloody battle fought on dubious grounds.
Merely one day after the arrival of Keron, Father Harker was no longer seen about the town he so loved and so loving of him. Some thought this suspicious and pointed theories of foul play. Others basted donkeys on coincidence and ate feasts ruled by cranberry sauce gone stale.
Without their silent guide, the people were lost. Some were angry. Cast forth into the wind, the towns folk sought answers from the mysterious man come to visit their town. Ferdinand Keron, a traveller short on history and lousy with lice.
No answers they could find. No sense in their minds.
Written on Wednesday, 1 February 2006