The Trouble with Writing Xinshi

I read somewhere that I write every day here at 1000 Days.  Did I make that sound like every everyday?

There are excuses, some better than others.  Some of those more believable than others.  But you’ll not be getting those here or now.  Instead I’ll try to fill in and complete that thing about Xinshi I began on Friday.

Be warned, I’ve had about three fingers of Scotch tonight.

[Maestro] stabbed two fingers at Xinshi’s chest and crooked them like he was lifting a fish from a bucket. Across the room the old man staggered forward. Certainly all the Ones knew this to be the [maestro’s] magic. Nearly all of the Twos believed as well. I knew it to be nothing more than a trick of the mind. A false compulsion Xinshi had fallen for–again.

We all waited for the [maestro’s] next sign. Without dropping the finger-hook he waived his left hand back and forth like he was holding a placard and asking a question. :What are you doing?: I’d seen him ask this simple question a thousand times of hundreds of Ones over the years.

The thirteen red feathers of the [maestro’s]…

…[thong bracer thingie] drifted to a swaying halt as he maintained Xinshi’s attention.  I found myself mesmerized by the gentle pendulum.

The ensuing epiphany took me back to the first time [maestro] called me out with the same question.  Through every instance I’ve witnessed since then.  Hung pointedly on the day of Xinshi’s arrival.  And back to now.

I knew above all else that I was missing part of the thread, but what did coalesce was the understanding that [maestro’s] imperturbable demeanor was indeed quite perturbed.  His neutral stance wasn’t.  He should have been neutral and waiting calmly to respond to whatever old man Xinshi would say or not say; do or not do.

I’m liking this too much to f it up tonight.

Word count: 310
Day 185