"Where do we all go when we commit suicide?"? he asked his Christian Professor, at the university, "is it the unpardonable sin?"? was his second question.

Then the old professor, pushed his papers aside, left his desk area, looked out the window, up into the stars, or so it seemed to Gene; out the open window he gazed, stoned faced almost, concentrating on the shapes and the shadows, that seemed to drift about. It was only a first floor office, a window you could jump out of, and if you fell, you'd only get a headache, it was but a few feet to fall. Then the old man brought his eyes down from up high, as if he was following a bird down to a big tree, and now he was staring at the solid, huge oak, outside the window, with its snake like, thick anaconda branches, and its trunk as big as the pillars at the Lincoln Monument, in Washington D.C.

At the same time, from the corner of his eye, the long part of his eye, he watched the wrapping, soak up with blood starting to drip on Gene's pants legs, tied around his student's wrist.

It was dusk, and he had worked late, and like out of the blue, Gene had stopped in, Gene Furbelow; just like that he showed up at the professor's office on campus.

The old professor pointed up into the thick branches of the tree, full of green life; dark green life with black charcoal branches, hooked onto it like Christmas bulbs; it was as if the tree was alive, beyond its normal existence: it was all darkened with the blackish-blue evening of the atmosphere. But something else was there.

"What do you think it is?"? asked the old man, still pointing at the tree, the shadows in the tree, its shapes.

Skullduggery

"Is this a trick question, are you trying to imply something?"? Gene asked the professor.

"I shall go further than a man should go in his trade,"? said the professor of theology (Professor Backer). "Well, well, well,"? said the professor looking at the blood dribbling from Genes wrists, now his bandages completely soaked, as was his right side of his pants by his knee also. Gene had tied a white hanky around his wrist before he came in to see the professor. Gene did not move from the chair.

"I'll give you $100-dollars worth of advice,"? said the professor, it was what he got for an hours worth of work (in l991). Gene just stood listening, it was why he came there, to get his two questions answered. The professor then called his wife, told her he'd not be home for dinner, and left it short, with no details.

The professor had sat down for a moment, now he stood back up, neatly dressed, he paced the floor, looking at Gene, deliberating (so Gene thought) about his two questions not yet answered, thinking at any minute they would be, and thus, gave his wrist no attention, nor his soaked pants: blood now dripping down to his socks" ?and soaking them; and drowning his foot, while being absorbed into his shoe.

The professor stood by the window again, breathed in the cool evening air, "Heaven has fallen upon us, and Hell is seeping up..."? he said, Gene just kept staring at the professor, at the shadows he was staring at, the tree he had pointed to before. He stepped out now, out through the window and beyond the it" ?the professor, it seemed so easy for him to do, like he almost floated out of it, no pain in them old legs; Gene just looked, surely he was thinking: now is the time he was going to let him know the answers to his questions, perhaps an analogy. The professor was kind of a poet, philosopher: hence, perhaps a comparison, simile. Gene did not move from the window sill, he stood by it, hands leaning on the sill his weight on his wrists, head pointed outward, looking at the professor, his bleeding wrist being traumatized.

A voice said, "Heaven or Hell,"? Gene looked for the whereabouts of the voice, he could not see it, but it was talking to the professor, addressing him.

There were now shadows and shapes all around the professor, but he paid little heed to them, he moved around the tree, as if he was searching for someone, or thing.

He spotted Mr. Johnlittle, "...say Mr. Little, when that man took your wife and you committed suicide, did that ease your feelings, your pain?"?

"Yessum,"? he said, then added "but not for long, now I'm in-between heaven and hell, like all us ghouls."? And he looked at Gene, smiled at the professor, as if he could read his mind, as if to say: another suicide.

"Stay here, I will not be long,"? the professor told the ghoul, and walked over to the window, grabbed Gene by the wrist, the one that was now bleeding so much he had weakened to a half dead cockroach: pulling him over to the tree as if to show the ghouls a prize.

"Here, you have a guest; he will be joining you in a few minutes."? Then he looked at Gene, said with a smile, "...they'll answer your questions in a moment,"? and shoved him down against the tree. Immediately, the swarm of shadows and shapes bound Gene with as much wind and residue as they could to keep him in place.

"I want to go to the hospital,"? cried Gene, "I have second thoughts on this matter that is why I came to you, professor."?

The professor was now climbing back through his window, he never turned around again, but he did say something that echoed back to Gene, "It won't be long now, just hang in there kid,"? and the kid passed out, and he got his questions answered, but it wasn't by the professor.

Written 11/12/2006, at the Bookstore, caf in Roseville, MN.

In Spanish Translated by Nancy Penaloza

Cielo del Suicidio

"A donde vamos todos cuando cometemos suicidio"' El pregunto a su profesor cristiano en la universidad, "es este un pecado imperdonable"' fue su segunda pregunta.

El viejo profesor, empujo sus papeles a un lado, dejo el rea de su escritorio, miro fuera de la ventana, arriba en las escaleras, o eso le pareci a Gene; fuera de la ventana abierta el miro de reojo, encarado casi endurecido, concentrado en las formas y las sombras, eso pareca vagar alrededor. Era solo una oficina en el primer piso, una ventana por la que t podas saltar afuera, y si caas, solamente podras conseguir un dolor de cabeza, estaba solo a pocos pies para descolgarse. Luego el viejo hombre concentro su mirada desde lo alto, como si el estuviera siguiendo a un pjaro abajo hacia un rbol grande, y ahora el estaba mirando fijamente el slido, y enorme roble, fuera de la ventana, con sus ramas gruesas como la serpiente anaconda, y su tronco tan grande como los pilares del monumento a Lincoln, en Washington D.C.

Al mismo tiempo, desde el rabillo de su ojo, la gran parte de su ojo, el vio la venda, absorbiendo con sangre comenzando a gotear sobre el pantaln corto de Gene, atados alrededor de la mueca del estudiante.

Era el atardecer, y el haba trabajado hasta tarde, y como por arte de magia, Gene se haba detenido all, Gene alterado, justo as el apareci en la oficina del profesor en el campus.

El viejo profesor sealo dentro de las ramas gruesas del rbol, lleno de vida verde; verde oscura vida con ramas negras como el carbn, enganchados a esto como bombas navideas; era como si el rbol estuviera vivo, mas all de su normal existencia: todo esto estaba oscurecido con la ennegrecida -tarde azul de la atmsfera. Pero algo ms estaba all.

"?Que piensas tu que es?"? pregunto el viejo hombre, todava apuntando hacia el rbol, las sombras en el rbol, sus formas.

Artimaas

"esta es una pregunta con segundas, estas tratando de insinuar algo?"? pregunto Gene, al profesor. "Ir mas lejos de lo que un hombre ira en su tratado"?, dijo el profesor de teologa (profesor Backer). "Bien, bien, bien"?, dijo el profesor mirando la sangre goteando de la mueca de Gene, ahora su vendaje completamente empapado, como estaba tambin el lado derecho de sus pantalones por su rodilla. Gene haba atado un pauelo blanco alrededor de su mueca antes de venir para ver al profesor. Gene no se movi de la silla.

"Te cobrar el precio de $100 dlares por el consejo"? dijo el profesor, esto era el precio que l consegua por una hora de trabajo en (1991). Gene solo permaneci escuchando, para esto era por lo que el haba ido all, para conseguir respuesta a sus dos preguntas. El profesor luego llam a su esposa, le dijo que el no ira a casa para la cena, y dejo esto, sin mayor detalle.

El profesor se haba sentado por un momento, ahora se apoy atrs, cuidadosamente vestido, dio pasos por el piso, mirando a Gene, deliberadamente (entonces Gene pens) acerca de sus dos preguntas aun no contestadas, pensando en todo momento lo que podran ser; y as, no dando a su mueca ninguna atencin, ni a sus pantalones remojados: la sangre ahora goteando abajo a sus medias y mojndolas; y ahogando sus pies, mientras estaba siendo absorbida dentro de su zapato.

El profesor permaneci por la ventana nuevamente, respirando el aire fresco del atardecer, "el cielo ha cado sobre nosotros, y el infierno esta absorbindonos"? dijo l, Gene solo retrado mirando fijamente al profesor, a las sombras el estaba mirando fijamente, al rbol que el haba apuntado antes. El dio un paso hacia fuera ahora, afuera a travs de la ventana y mas all de esto- el profesor, pareca tan fcil para l hacerlo, como si casi flotara fuera de esto, sin dolor en sus viejas piernas; Gene solo miraba, seguramente el estaba pensando: ahora es el tiempo en que l le dejara conocer las respuestas a sus preguntas, talvez una analoga. El profesor era como un poeta, filosofo: de ah, talvez una comparacin, similitud. Gene no se movi desde el marco de la ventana, el permaneci all, sus manos reposadas sobre el marco su peso sobre sus muecas, su cabeza dirigida hacia fuera, mirando al profesor, sus muecas sangrantes siendo traumatizadas.

Una voz dijo, "Cielo o infierno"?, Gene miro de donde sala la voz, el no poda ver, pero estaba hablando al profesor, dirigindose a l.

Hubo ahora sombras y formas todo alrededor del profesor, pero el presto poca atencin a estos, el se movi alrededor del rbol, como si el estuviera buscando a alguien, o cosa.

El pudo ver al Sr. Johnlittle, "diga seor Little, cuando este hombre se llev a tu esposa y tu cometiste suicidio, Eso facilita tus sentimientos, tu dolor?

"Si, totalmente"?, dijo l, luego agreg "Pero no por mucho, ahora yo estoy entre el cielo y el infierno, como todos nuestras fantasmas. Y el miro a Gene, sonri al profesor, como si el podra leer su mente, como diciendo: otro suicidio.

"Qudate all, yo no estar mucho"?, el profesor dijo al fantasma, y camino por la ventana, agarr a Gene por la mueca, la que no estaba sangrando tanto. el haba debilitado a una cucaracha medio muerta: jalndolo a el sobre el rbol como si mostrara al fantasma un premio.

All, tu tienes una pregunta; el estar reunindose contigo en pocos minutos. Luego miro a Gene, dijo con una sonrisa, ellos contestaran a tus preguntas en un momento, y lo empujo abajo contra el rbol. Inmediatamente, el enjambre de sombras y formas rodearon a Gene con mucho viento y residuo como ellos pudieron para mantenerlo a l en el lugar.

Yo quiero ir al hospital grito Gene, yo tengo otros pensamientos sobre esta materia es por eso por lo que vine hacia Ud. profesor,

El profesor ahora estaba de regreso trepando a travs de su ventana, el jams regreso nuevamente, pero dijo algo que los ecos regresaron Gene, esto no ser muy largo ahora, solo culgate all muchacho"? y el muchacho muri, y el consigui la respuesta a sus preguntas, pero no fueron del profesor.

Escrito 11/12/2006, en la biblioteca, caf en Roseville, MN.