Benjamin Keeled was a kind fellow. No one really knew why. In a world of haters, killers, liars, thieves, and every other form of monstrous occupational title available at any given moment, this man was an oddity indeed. Yet, because he was kind, even the most gruesome bloodthirsty maniac felt the urge to be nice in return.
Of course, no one knew what that word meant, but whenever Benjamin Keeled walked past, it was like a moment of enlightenment cooled their brains and filled them with knowledge that never existed there before, and never existed thereafter.
People began to wonder if they should pay more attention to him. After all, there was a peaceful feeling that came over them when he stopped and talked. The bartender had spoken to Benjamin Keeled enough times that when he saw the man walk into his saloon, he felt a sensation he could only call happiness—even if he did only order grape juice. The barber was always sure to cut his hair just as he ordered, instead of giving him a lop-sided shave or coloring it vomit orange.
Of course, it helped that Benjamin Keeled always paid for the services rendered to him. The grocer made sure to thank him ten times when he purchased a dozen eggs, a pound of bacon, and a loaf of sliced bread. It seemed to be the only thing he bought. Every two days Benjamin Keeled was seen walking through town, going about his rounds among the different merchants. He never seemed to have friends, but who did? Partners, rather, temporary alliances were a normal part of life, but Benjamin Keeled only associated with the merchants who provided what he needed.
No one knew what he did to get money, nor did they know where he lived. Many spies had followed him to the edge of town, and just as many lost him. He always disappeared after rounding a lone bush on the edge of the town’s border. When the spies followed him around the bush, there was nothing there. Sometimes spies described a fleeting twinge of what they considered to be remorse as they followed him to oblivion. Other times, spies stayed far enough away to resist the inefficient urge to leave him alone.
One day, the townsfolk decided to band together and stop him from leaving. Benjamin Keeled was a common curiosity, so it was no surprise the massive alliance formed. What they never expected was to feel the need to apologize profusely when he was cornered. They split open a path for him, and he left. To their greater astonishment, he said please and thank you with no indication of malice. Yes, he was an oddity, indeed.
Beth Freemont 