The Shine Journal

The Alegory Of The Vine

 

By

 

J. Lewis Barker

 

 

 

Harlan and Barnes had grown up together but in the most peculiar way.  Since their very first cellular division, they had spent their entire lives on the leeward side of Mrs. Dogging’s very agreeable row house.  Harlan and Barnes accommodations were anything but shanties, even though they had spent their existence on the outside.  They shared and entire side of the house with their own very wonderful lattice from which they would weave and cling.  These were two of the finest pair of shrubbery in the neighborhood, but for no particular reason had earned each others ire.  The older they got, the more cantankerous Harlan became and likewise Barnes would become more obstinate.  Oh how enthusiastically they would bicker and maneuver, all for her attention. 

 

The Sun was their consort, and she would keep them company during the day and when she was not around they would chastise each other for hours. She would beam that radiant light from above, and they would sun themselves until the moon appeared and ruined their fun.  They never liked the moon; he never responded to their taunts and secretly they thought he was in love with her too, chasing her through the starry night sky.  Jealousy was undoubtedly the only characteristic they shared.

 

However, one day, while they were relaxing with her, a swarthy man by the name of Burt came with all manner of noisy machinery.  First, he very ceremoniously gave Earl a haircut and to which made him grumpy for the remainder of the day.  Then he cut three arms off of the Masterson twins and they have ceased their dancing in the windy months.  Lastly, he approached Harlan and Barnes with a silent and very primitive looking tool. “Hold still,” he said, with a businesslike tone.  Burt had been carrying out this primordial genocide all day and he was tired, but he had a job to do and bills to pay, as we all do, so he continued on.

 

Now Harlan, by his very nature, was a fighter and Barnes never gave in, so they resisted poor sweaty, brutish Burt.  With a gust of wind, Harlan started the duel by slapping him in the face, while Barnes knocked a pot off of the top shelf.  Burt continued until he could endure the indignity no more.  Bruised and infuriated, Burt went for more advanced weaponry.  At this point in the conflagration, Barnes had no more pots to throw and Harlan had lost several fingers in the fray, but there was no quit in the old geezers.  While they prepared for the final encounter, she came to their aid, in the most peculiar way; she ran and never looked back.  Burt, missing his light and the energy to finish, stopped his medieval machine very close to some parts that were very dear to Barnes. 

 

That night the yard was a convocation of reverie and victory, as they toasted their heroes.  The moon maintained its silence but gave them the light their party deserved.  At long last, there was peace in the yard and more importantly, between the two shrubbery.

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My BIO: I graduated from Rutgers University in 2006  with a degree in History/Classics. I live in New Jersey with my wife Rachel. Currently I attend The College of New Jersey,pursuing a degree in English Education.

My Motivation : To bring the ordinary to light in an "unordinary" way.

Photo of "green"  by: Keith Syvinski