The Man And The House Short Stroy by Poul Matras

Samson gazed at the moon.

Normally he wasn't one to place too great weight on the moon. Not as a symbol. Not as a Big old rock hanging in the sky. Not at all. But tonight it made him feel a bit melancholic. A tiny shard of emptyness and lack of meaning pierced his heart as he glared on the perfectly round silver coin that was hanging in the sky.

He gritted his teeth. He couldn't sit here sobbing. He had work to do and he had to be on his toes and alert, otherwise it would mean a lot of trouble for him and his mates. He looked at the house at the botom of the hill. It was a calm, beautifull and all in all lovely little house. Samsom shook his head. Nothing that lovely could last, he knew that, there was always a snake somewhere in the garden to ruin the fun for everyone else.

The weather was clear and the air was as calm as it was cold. There was nothing to distract him, and still his mind wandered. The moon laughed silently at him and taunted him for being sentimental. The stars joined in a choire of laughing voices mocking this one moment of sentimental thought.

Samson regained focus and looked at the house again. Nothing had changed. The same peacefull, little house stood at the bottom of the hill.

He thought about what would happen tonight. He shuddered. It wasn't the cold. Even though it was freesing, it was something else that made him shudder. He tried to find alternatives, but it was all one long fight to avoid the enevitable. It was all in vain. And he knew it.

The Gentlemen had tried to acomplish what needed to be done, the way the would like it to be done. Emanuel had offered a significan amount of money for the house and the grounds. It had been politely refused. Ninefinger Jack had tried to gamble the owner into a debth do severe that he would have to sell the house. But the man had resisted all of jacks charms and stopped when he started loosing. The Gentlemen had failed.

The lady had tried. Yssabelle had spared no trick from the great book of female cunning. She had worn enough sensual magnetism in her to seduce a dosin priests in front of god himself. But she had failed. The owner had bowed politely and said that he was spoken for. The Lady had failed.

The Boys had tried. Sam had vandalised the mans car and left messages of hate on his doorstep. He had pulled every scool bully trick to make this guy find an other neighbohood to live in. No result. Jason had pulled his strings with some local gangs. They had pelted the house with eggs and rotten fruit. They had fired weapons and shouted warnings. But the owner would not sell. The Boys had failed.

And now Samson knew what had to happen. He knew the drill, he had seen it all before. When the Gentlemen failed, the Lady tried. When the Lady failed the Boys tried. And when the Boys failed, The man had to get out of his comfy chair an get the job done.

He knew that he could not walk away. He knew that to much rested on his shoulders. He wasn't a quitter and never had been. And now was the time to show it. Time to show that no matter how shitty the job was, the Man would get it done. Time to show who the Man really was.

A light was lit in the house below. Someone had come home. Samson looked upon the moon a last time. It seemed so calm. And he felt calmer as he whatched it. He knew what he had to do. He shot the peacefull house a bitter look, loaded his gun and started down the hill.