The Sword
Between my ribs a sword is thrust. It goes in below the heart and comes out at the backside of the opposite hip. I can’t recall when it went in, but it must be some time ago now. ”Handsome sword,” my mother calls it. I agree, and often stand in front of the mirror turning this way and that, looking at the beautiful light that the blade reflects.
Sometimes the sword causes me trouble. For example, when I try to go through a narrow doorway, I have to remember to turn sideways. If I forget, I stumble and the blade cuts an ugly mark in the doorframe.
Another thing is my shirts and coats. I have a hard time shopping for new ones, as it happens that not many people have a sword going through them. The shirts and coats I do have are ill-fitting, although my family and friends often compliment me on my style.
One day I tried to pull the sword out. I went into the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror again. The sword truly was handsome. I put both hands on the gilded hilt and started pulling. Immediately a bucketful of blood gushed out from the wound. So unbearable was the pain that I threw up in the sink and on the mirror, and fell down on the floor.
The next morning it still hurt, but I was nevertheless able to leave the apartment for work. In the staircase the man from next door stopped me. He looked at me for a minute in silence and then started:
“Are you alright?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What is wrong?” he asked, and at the same time put his hand on my coat, on the spot under which the hilt was. “Did you do something with it?”
“Yes, sir. I tried to pull it out.”
“People like you don’t know what is best for everyone.” He continued on his way.
At work that day everyone looked at me funny.
When I woke up the next morning, there was a smell. I got up and went again in front of the mirror. On my chest, around the part where the steel went inside me, the skin was festering. I searched in the cabinet above the sink and put some sanitiser on the festering part. Then I went to work. People did not look at me funny anymore, and instead asked whether I had gotten a new fancy perfume.
Day after day the smell kept getting worse, but it seemed like others did not mind it. One morning as I was brushing my teeth, I realised there were little white maggots wriggling around the festering part, which had spread to an area about the size of my palm. I cried out a little and picked the maggots out with a hand towel. However, the next time I went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror, there were more of them.
Eventually I had to go to the doctor’s. I told him about my incident which had brought the smelling, the festering and the maggots.
“Well,” the doctor began after I had told him everything, “I must say I can’t smell anything, so you ought not to worry about that. In fact, I wanted to ask you which perfume you use? It is wonderful. What comes to the maggots, well, they are your ordinary maggots, heh! They are no cause for alarm either.” He leaned towards my chest to grab one of the maggots and threw it in his mouth. “Tasty indeed!” I paid five hundred for the inspection and went home.
Soon the smell became so strong I had a hard time falling asleep. For two nights I rolled around in bed (as much as the sword allowed me to roll) and did not sleep a wink. On the third night I got up after three hours of rolling and went to the bathroom again.
The festering had now reached my left armpit on one side and my navel on the other. The moment I lifted my shirt the maggots started dropping on the floor, so many of them there were. I jumped up in alarm and accidentally squished some. The flattened maggots made a wet sound and felt warm and soggy under my feet. After some minutes I managed to calm down. The hilt of the shining sword looked at me from the mirror. For the second time I got hold of it with both my hands, and started to pull slowly. The pain was even worse than on the first time, and I had to give it my all not to be sick again. Instead of only blood, there also streamed out some black and dark green bile, as well as more maggots, even bigger than the ones on the outside.
The sword was coming out. Once the hilt became too far for me to keep hold of it properly and pull it outwards at the same time, I had to grab the blade. The blade was slippery from the blood and bile, so I had to hold very tight to keep pulling. The edges of the blade drew fresh blood from my palms.
I think I passed out then, since I do not remember the moment I got the sword out. I came to at some point and realised I was lying on the floor next to the sword. Slowly raising myself on my knees, I kept looking at it. Some blood was still coming out of the now open wound in my chest, but it was slowly drying up. I washed myself clean and went back to bed.
When I woke up some hours later, when it was still dark, it felt like I had slept for a very long time. I had to relieve myself and headed back to the toilet. Getting up from the bed I nearly fell on my face, because I was not used to the new weight of my body.
My eyes were tired and wanted to stay shut, so I didn’t turn on the lights in the bathroom. When I went to wash my hands I stepped on something that stung the sole of my foot. I hopped to the switch with my other foot and put the lights on to figure out what it was. It turned out I had stepped on a needle. Since it was now bloodied and a little bent, I threw it in the trash.
