A girl in the shade of an ancient apple tree, a tree with more branches than leaves, but whose life force is still tenacious and strong, stares at the computer in her lap.
Thoughts of men doing seemingly random acts of kindness fill her mind, along with scenes of ruthless and calculated violence. It is a world balanced between the brightest light and darkest night, a world that always teeters on the edge of its own destruction.
What keeps this world, supposedly created with an addendum of free will, from disintegrating and tearing itself apart?
Is there a safety valve somewhere? A clause that says the creator can step in at the last moment and send all the miscreants to separate corners to rethink their actions? Or is it simply a free for all, with the best man, or strongest man, or perhaps only the most tenacious one, coming out ahead?
Of course the world would actually continue on. It is the men themselves who will cease to be, or maybe not. Maybe there are a few among them with the power to change things in subtle yet effective ways.
Men who appear along the edges of war zones, and ghettos and dens of iniquity where “good” men do not want to be seen. Men not afraid to put themselves between the unthinkable and the unbearable. Men who alter the forces of darkness with simple goodness un-noticed and un-lauded for all eternity.
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