Misty Eyes
It was morning and he was sitting and looking out of the window. Female faces coming and going always fascinated him. He looked at all those faces getting on, beautiful faces, interesting faces, ugly faces, dull faces. He knew when his eyes followed a face they forced her either to sit next to him or at least find a seat within his sight. There was power and mystery in his eyes. Women always felt forced to stop and sit down.

However, his mysterious powers disappeared the moment he captured a face. He didn’t even know what to do: shall I smile? Start a conversation? Show her my interest in some way? Nothing of the kind happened and soon the pleasant face facing him got tired and he lost control. She got up and took a seat somewhere else.

He was alone now again looking at new faces getting on. He then quietly put his right hand in his pocket and took out a knife and stretched his hand as far as he could to hit his chest. The knife kept stuck and he fell on the floor bleeding. People hurried to help but no one could pull the knife out. Some phoned an ambulance and the car stopped.

Doctors tried to calm him down first and asked why he did that. He could not speak but pointed to his pocket as if saying: it is inside. They found nothing but a piece of paper which said: I feel like tearing my chest with a knife and I am going to do it one day.

Nobody knew why he did that and what happened to him in the hospital. Could the doctors save his life? Some thought he was put on an assembly line waiting to be buried.
Jamshid
Bremen, 30 September 2009

Comments:

It seemed to me as if the words written on the piece of paper were indeed the weapon to cause the injury. Maybe I tend to overestimate words, but naming a thing might mean that the thing is explained and thus possessed. Words also make the world around us move in some way.
But more than that, my reading of the text is focused on the unexpected in the human mind/soul/call-it-whatever-you-want. Don´t we all feel like doing something completely crazy from time to time? What stops us? What makes us do it after all? What stays unrevealed to the world around?
As always, good job!

I found your suggestion that piece of paper was indeed the weapon very interesting and I believe there is some sort of link between the two. The unexpected which might appear in the human behaviour is a moment of overflow or despair.