The Winged Man (Part 4)

There it was. He found the page where The Winged Man had been slighted by a universal villain. He studied the expression on his face. It was shaded into black, on one side. There was a frown, but not one that showed weakness; rather one that showed patience. For the great need patience enough to keep them company while they await their greatness to be revealed. They must tolerate the mud slung on their faces, because in due course, the brilliance of their true self will be revealed. The boy went back to bed, to a sleep full of powerful dreams, each one a reflection of those books under his bed. His head was like the ceilings in some cheap motels; lined with several mirrors, in different shapes and colours but all mirroring the same image.
The next day, at games, the boy walked up to Billy. Billy’s friends all looked at the boy in surprise but Billy only grinned. The boy put on a frown, one that did not show weakness.

“Das darf nicht wahr sein,” the boy said in as loud a voice as he could call up from his belly. Everyone stopped playing and looked at the boy. “This cannot be true. You cannot win against me. For your victory would be a perpetual assault to the truth in human nature. We are divine when in our true elements. I will not bow to the Bal of vile ignorance. You may have won the battle but I will win the war. You can but only await your impending doom in silence.”

No one spoke a word. The boy walked away quickly, out of the playground, out of sight. Billy felt a tingle in his belly, a strong urge to burst out laughing. The other children decided they now had one person they would all avoid. And the girl of the Valentine’s Day card solemnly stared at her shoes.

Oh and the boy, when he grew up, still wore glasses.