Dunklen-Kunste

                Perry called Benji to his last classroom on Monday; everyone in class gave a mocking "ooh…", imagining that Benji was in some kind of trouble. They picked up their things and left the class at the bell, conversing glibly and seeming to run together like watercolors. Benji saw Herr Wilson walk by the door slowly, as if he was looking (or listening) for something. Perry tapped the desk to get Benji's attention. "Bambino, are you working on your assignment?"               "Oh! Yes, mein herr!" He saw Gerard walk away quickly, and he knew Perry had too, since his lip curled a little. Benji had never known that Perry was cap

             The next day was cold, colder than the rest of the week. It was cold enough to freeze a hot cappuccino in under a minute (not like Benji tried it, he was just guessing), and cloudy, which didn't help anything. Benji had decided when he woke up that morning that he was not leaving the house for any reason, and that the majority of the day would certainly be spent in bed. He fixed a cup of cocoa and lay down, switching on the television for some VIVA. He wondered when they would play some really cool music from the States, but then again, Benji's "cool" and most other people's "cool" were never really in agreement. Benji snuggled i

          Benji made a point of avoiding Jericho for the rest of the week. He just couldn't face Jericho after Monday's events; he still couldn't help feeling guilty about all of it, though. He kept thinking about how few friends Jericho seemed to have-once he really thought about it, it seemed like Jericho only ever talked to one person…           And there was the fact that people could be dying out there, somewhere. Benji just wanted to forget it…but he couldn't, he had had nightmares about it all week, like he was supposed to do

           Benji unlocked the door to his flat and quickly walked in. He never liked staying outside in the halls for very long (you could never be sure who lived in apartments, you know). He took out the post that he had picked up before coming home-when he did, Benji noticed a large manila envelope at the bottom that he hadn't given much attention to before. He turned it over and looked at the return address; it was from Munich. He breathed a sigh of relief; it was just money (and it was just in time, too; his rent was due on Wednesday). He remembered the first time he had received an e

     At breakfast that morning, Jericho looked at Benji from across the table, and knew that there was something wrong. Benji looked like he’d been up all night.      He was right, in a way. Benji had slept, but the day before seemed to merge with the night, and his dreams were rife with shadowy figures, killers, and blood. Jericho was looking at him, he knew. He shifted in his booth, and decided to tell Jericho what happened in front of the Deutscher Dom.      “If I tell you something, will you swear not to tell anyone else?”     

     Mitte was always noisy. It was always bright. Even after the sun went down, the violent amperage of daytime seemed burned into the cityscape. Benji wondered absently if it was always like this; if in every big city, in every country, the lights seemed to stay on.      He was looking at one set of lights in particular: The crossing lights. They made a sport of staying red until the second you looked down, and he was ready to go home. It was easier to walk downtown than drive, even if walking wasn’t as fast as a car; there were fewer lights to stop at, and there was more time to enjoy