Anthropocentric HTML version

dark no one could say, they appeared to be permanently under shadow. It had led to
his peers never knowing or understanding whether he was actually looking at them or
not. Therefore he had never been included, his appearance made him an outsider to
the normal folk. But it was something he never did mind, his voyeurism on life gave
him a perspective he thought he would not have had if his eyes had been blue,
possibly a forced superiority complex of his own. Those who did see him, and did
not look to his eyes first, may have seen the scar on his arm if it was uncovered. And
they would still have walked away. His left arm had a jagged disfigurement running
from his shoulder to half way down his forearm, the scar was raised in parts, indented
in parts and the sewing punctures were still visible. The accident had happened over
fifteen years ago, and still he was judged a man of questionable ethics, they assumed
it had happened in a fight of somesort. They probably watched too much television.
When Byron was ten years old, he used to swim in the local reservoir. He was
always alone, even at this age, although he did not understand, he had learnt to accept
his fate. If you believe such things: Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos, may spin,
apportion, and cut his life yarn, but his destiny was his own. Of this he was adamant.
Byron believed he was in control of his destiny, a director, and not a player in
somebody else’s. He had swam here for the last few years, no one asked him
anymore where it was he was going, he had isolated himself long ago. The day was
bright, the sun warmed his poets’ heart and he even managed a smile at the sky. He
striped off to his cut up jean shorts and carefully folded all his worldly belongings
into his towel. A yell of excitement echoed through the woodland beside the
reservoir as Byron threw himself into the dark blue water. The glacial chill accepted
him again without emotion. The water was always cold even on a hot day like this, as
it stung his bones and reminded him he was alive. An event was soon to happen that
reminded him what being alive was. The fair folk of his hometown had an inherent
laziness when it came to the dumping of household bulk, the tip was another town
away, and the reservoir was not. The basic mathematics of humankind dictated that