The Morgan Effect: Life's Chronicles of a New Era

Maxim

In a café just north of Sarhatil, a dark man sat, concealed in a small alcove, sectioned off only by the lighting. The café was shrouded in a kind of light that was always present yet, this man seemed to receive none of it. It shined and shimmered like a lake in mid-summer, at least to the man in the corner. His name: Morgan. The light curved around the room, kissing all the lovers with joy and caressing still, all those alone with a prayer for a happy future. And it was as if to grace a face was the singular job of the light. It touched everyone, except for Morgan.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a couple, thirty years or so together. They smiled and cooed at each other with as much joy as when they were first married. It was obvious. The younger couples in the room looked at them in awe, while most of the single women were justifiably jealous. All's fair when dealing with love....

Morgan sipped a tea imported from hundreds of miles away. He'd heard it was "Fog Tea" from the Tianmu Mountain and it helped with anxiety and depression. The waitress had suggested it and though she didn't specify why, Morgan knew the menu well. His tea had just about dissipated before his guest had arrived. He'd been sitting there for a time that stretched mere seconds to him, so no complaints were uttered in his part.

"Hello, you're well I hope....Would you like some tea? It's very fine, and quite useful I heard. You would benefit from some, I'm sure."

The gentleman that found the seat in front of Morgan was disheveled and unaware to say the least. He pulled his coat off in a rush and plopped in his seat with not a trace of grace.

"You know why I'm here Morgan. Please, I need you to hear me out."

Morgan didn't stutter a moment though, and ordered his guest the same as he had, requesting a refill for himself—if it worked, he'd undoubtedly need more. For quick moments the man sat, taunt in his chair awaiting some sign. His jaw clinched and his eyes darted across his companion's body and the room. Morgan leaned back in his chair and absorbed the scene with aged and well versed eyes. He admitted to himself that he had been annoyed when this graceless man came to him. This uncouth child plopped in front of him, without regard to social norms or courtesy. Morgan had taught this man better than that. He didn't accept a drink when specifically offered, and he had kept him waiting—Lombardi would be ashamed at his timing. But. He felt better now, knowing that all his fumbles were the simple result of the effect Morgan himself had on people, and not wholly the man's lack of manners. Morgan would listen to his demands, but "listen" was the only thing guaranteed to this man—it was the polite thing to do after all. And Morgan had allowed the meeting for a reason....

"Morgan...."

The man hissed under his breath and shunned all aspects of the polite society Morgan prescribed to so thoroughly. This man knew what he was doing, Morgan swore he did because the man knew he hated when people weren't polite. This was a special occasion however, and the man had no concern for Morgan's preferences.

"I know we've got history, and I know you don't have much love for me anymore, but you have to hear me.... My daughter, there is a way to make sure she never becomes a problem for you. I've been looking for years and I finally found it. The problem was it was in the Hills and I couldn't find a party to go with me. I sought out everything that we'll need though. We'll wipe her memory, clean sleight."

The man's face was that of a desperate father's and his eyes were pleads for mercy in and of themselves. It was here the waitress chose to deliver their drinks. Morgan thanked her and smiled his charming smile as he always did. The father sat paralyzed in front of him. Despite the effect the smile had on others, it was a sign of the devil to him. Morgan drank and the man began to speak again, this time in a very particular way, with peculiar hand motions and twitches.