Fiction: Rufus
It didn’t matter that nobody spoke English; Rufus didn’t need to speak to anybody. A child was perched on the creaking metal gate but his swinging legs were the only two in the vicinity that weren’t heading somewhere. As long as Rufus remained unmemorable this would be easy.
A dull man was an man avoided, and dullness was a necessary skill for someone in Rufus’ line of work. The thing to do was to mope inconspicuously around the corner then discreetly leap a fence then slip into the church via an unnecessarily arched side door. More than often someone would greet you if you took the main entrance, and this would only hinder his goal. It was important that he wasn’t asked any questions. Once in the church, Rufus sat down. This was a church in Korea. Rufus had come to Korea after hearing how thoroughly Christian it was.
From inside his jacket, Rufus removed a tiny transparent sealed container, it carried a swirling dark, rich-red liquid. Out of his breast pocket he took a long thin knitting needle-like contraption. A quick scan; twelve bodies, seven with closed eyes, three in hushed conversation and two politely waiting. To the right of an underwhelming altar stood a small wooden statue of the Virgin Mary. She had been roughly decorated. The blue paint was peeling; this wasn’t a temple frequented by the rich.
Rufus stood before the blessed lady. Lightning quick, his right hand wielding the needle, Rufus cupped his hand behind the statue’s head and made two swift jabs. No one saw this, he genuflected. The tiny container was cupped carefully in his left palm. Hunched on his knee, Rufus ensured that he was not seen flicking the lid and drawing out the liquid with the needle. Rising, he replicated his jabs; the scarlet liquid flowed into the newly made tiny holes in the back of the Virgin’s skull. If Rufus had done his job properly (and he always did) in half an hour, the fluid would begin to seep through the eyes of the previously mundanely sacred idol.
The man just wanted to make people happy. But he didn’t like to spoil the mystery; he remained anonymous.
