Totem, Part VIII

The old man ignored the comments: “As they made me ready, a riot broke out, fire, destruction, killing. It was prisoners attacking and ending the camp, giving death to the guards and others that had power.”

“What is ‘riot?’ a girl-child asked from the row closest to the old man’s knee.

“It is violence made by many people towards someone or something,” Grandser answered, “In this case, it was the camp and the people that make the camp work. I made it it out of the execution chamber and as I was running to get out of the camp, I saw the man with the bird head and I tore it from his shoulders as a trophy and kept it.”

“It is the same bird head on your totem?”

“You ripped the bird head off its body?”

“Did you get blood on you?”

“Yes, yes and no,” the old man answered looking towards where the questions came.

“How come you did not die from the Grand Pan, Grandser?”

“I do not know, child. I do not know.”

After a short pause, Grandser said, “I am tired now, you should go back to your parents.”

Junior took up the challenge, directing the children from the house and telling them to go to their home as it was getting dark and wild dogs would be setting upon the village soon. This caused the children to hurry, though it had a couple of years since a child had been snatched by any pack in the area.

As Grandser laid back on his pallet, he looked up at the head that everyone knew as that of a bird, which it did look like, and smiled knowingly whispered, “I need to tell Junior the full truth of it, before I am dead.”

The 87-year-old man, and quite possibly, in his opinion, the oldest man on Earth, fell into a fitful sleep, with the last thing seen that night being the ‘Plague Doctors’ mask, where it lived on his totem.

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