The Outlaw
Who rarely committed crimes
When the groups got together mayhem ensued. Dialogue turned into vicious debate. Social tolerance turned into yelling and cussing and name-calling.
Maxwell watched all this from afar. None of the groups would have him for a member and he had no desire whatsoever to be part of a group. He preferred being on the periphery of society. He was a loner.
He preferred the term, ‘outlaw.’ It sounded more romantic than, ‘loner.’ Of course he did not break many laws. He did not want to end up in jail. He cherished his freedom too much to be locked up.
Most people did not want to be seen hanging out with Maxwell. It would tarnish their reputation. But when there was no one else around, a small number of people would engage him just because he was so very different. They wanted to hear some of the whacko, crazy-ass things Maxwell would say. When one hears the same old tired things said over and over and over, Maxwell was guaranteed to provide the shock value needed to tweak one’s perspectives.
On occasion, girls would seek out Maxwell because of some psychological need to piss off one or both of their parents by cavorting with an outlaw. They had some emotional need to cross the society-drawn lines of danger. But they all realized that Maxwell was young and not yet a truly developed outlaw. Since he could not provide all the dangerous excitement, they longed for no serious relationships developed.
While Maxwell himself was easily forgotten the actual interactions with him lingered in the depths of people’s memories like some long-forgotten odor that, when smelled again, brought on a rush of emotional confusion.
No one knows whatever happened to Maxwell. One day he just disappeared. While he essentially vanished from sight, those who had ever interacted with him could sometimes feel his presence somewhere in the shadows watching them act out their little dramas within their little groups.
Maxwell eventually became a master stealth outlaw. He was never seen, but his impact seeped into the fabric of many diverse groups. He managed to upset apple carts without his presence ever being detected. He also learned to inject serious doses of love — also without being detected.
He was a loner, an outlaw, a phantom. Eventually he attained great happiness. All alone.
Copyright by White Feather. All Rights Reserved. This is a work of fiction. White Feather Archive Index
Speaking of loners…
