From: Valeanna1@aol.com
Date: Thu, 25 Mar 1999 17:48:34 EST
Subject: 'Remnants' (1/1) by J. C. Sun



Title: Remnants
Author: J. C. Sun

Category: VRAO
Rating: R
Summary: For thine is--

No infringement upon Madeline Partous's excellent 'Hollow Men', Also,
barbarous and intentional distortion of TS Eliot's masterpiece Waste Land;
purists beware.

.

Mulder, no surprise, was an Eliot fan, knew whole chunks of the Waste Land,
and I remember him once quoting a stanza of Marina to me.  Mulder had left his
book of Eliot on the dresser, and now, Skinner's reading of the Hollow Men,
voice echoing off the syllables:

The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost kingdom

We had been to the service earlier today, this sad little spot of pine trees
and Mulder's casket gleaming through the morning fog.  Lots of people,
reporters, FBI flunkies: Mulder got a glorious, heroic death splattered all
over an Arkansas schoolhouse, oh yes.

A glorious, bloody, better-PR-for-the-FBI-than-money-can-buy death, with half
the nation's cameras at the scene of the murder and the other half attending
his funeral:

A glorious death, the blunt end of a sawed-off shot gun, bang!  bang!  bang!
three holes in the nation's finest and a gunpowder scorched red mush for a
face, flecked all about with white bits of bone. 

Skinner crying out, once, hand out-flung and then settling down into smooth
impassivity, watching Mulder thrash across the asphalt parking lot, leaving a
long print of blood.  Me, just staring out at the concrete and the riotous
clicking of telezoom cameras

a glorious death on the steps of an Arkansas schoolhouse. 

And now, Skinner saying in that lost, tired voice,


Between the desire
And the spasm
Between the potency
And the existence
Between the essence 
And the descent
Falls the Shadow
    For Thine is the Kingdom. 

oh yes.

Skinner has a the right voice for this, grainy and gritty, edged just on the
far side, and he's slumped into his leather armchair, and I'm the one
clutching the brandy and wishing the world to swim away.

For Thine is
Life is
For Thine is the--

For thine is the--

Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow
   For Thine is the--

Skinner's voice crumbles right here, and he twists his head away, hiding,
smothering these sobs that cause his entire body to shiver and shudder with
the effort of control, dropping the book face-down on the floor as he comes as
close as he can to crying, and for the breifest, most tempting of moments, I
consider reaching out and comforting him. Then, that spurt of courage passes,
and I settle back into my chair, and I grip my shot glass and finish,

for thine, thine the remnants of this--

the remnants of this.

I murmur, and then, I listen to the sounds of rain and the traffic and the
world passing by and the sounds of Skinner quietly trying not to weep.

.end

I know.  It's a rehash.  Lecture me on the virtues of creativity.

valeanna1@aol.com

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