“When Apathy Comes Knocking (It Will Come Back)”
Allegorical and brimming with eerie fantasy, this short story poured out of me into a hundred warnings. Simply put, at the end of the day… Watch what you let through your door.
Of course, a Hozier song inspired the piece. Listen on loop and find out what happened that night…
“Can’t be unlearned.
I’ve known the warmth of your doorway.”
“When Apathy Comes Knocking
(It Will Come Back)”
by Bethany E. Kolb
When Compassion came knocking,
I opened the damn door.
Not to let it in,
Just to take a peek,
Ensure it wasn’t hurt.
It limped toward me in a kitten’s form,
Meowing sweet pleadings,
Begging for warmth from my hearth.
How harmful could it be?
I tossed a scrap from my table,
Fish rejoining water on frozen ground.
The kitten sniffed then bit,
Sinking its teeth in gratitude,
Then ran back into the night.
I closed the door, slightly chilled,
But otherwise no more changed.
“Who was that, love?” my husband called from the hearth.
“An abandoned kitten,” I said. “Soft and alone.
Harmless, really.”
“Don’t feed it, my dear,” he warned,
Flipping through his paper of the day’s distress.
“It will come back.”
Would it truly be so horrid
For an innocent thing to come back?
So I silenced my story, resumed my throne,
and crocheted my musings into the night.
***
The next day, Indifference came knocking.
Again, I opened the door.
This time, a hawk with broken wings
Spread its beak in pleading screech,
Begging for scraps from the day before.
How harmful could it be?
After all, I’d already helped a poor kitten.
How fast word must spread through forest fields,
So I tossed a scrap from my table.
A burnt end of prime meat -
No loss to me, and all the hawk’s gain.
It blinked then bit,
Piercing the skin in predatorial victory,
Then flew back into the night.
I closed the door, confused,
But otherwise no more changed.
“Who was that, love?” my husband called from upstairs.
“An injured hawk,” I said. “Both wings broken,
But then it flew away.
Eerie, really.”
“Whatever you do, my dear,” he warned,
Flipping through his paper of the day’s distress.
“Don’t feed it. It will come back.”
Would it truly be so horrid
For a confused, damaged thing to come back?
So I silenced my story, resumed my throne,
and crocheted my musings into the night.
***
The next day, Compliance came knocking.
Again, I opened the door.
A fawn separated from its mother,
Mere days after its birth from her womb,
Pleaded for feminine warmth.
I’ve always wanted children,
And this poor thing needed life,
So I ushered it inside to the hearth.
How harmful could it be?
I tossed a scrap from my table,
All-nourishing fruits half-spoiled.
The fawn shook off its chill,
Sinking its greedy teeth in the berries,
Then darted back into the night.
I closed the door, concerned,
Mournful for innocence lost,
But otherwise no more changed.
“Who was that, love?” my husband called from the kitchen.
“A lost fawn,” I said. “Endearing and alone -
I fear she won’t live long -
Tragic, really.”
“Remember, don’t feed it, my dear,” he warned,
Flipping through his paper of the day’s distress.
“It will come back.”
Would it truly be so horrid
For an innocent thing to come back?
So I silenced my story, resumed my throne,
and crocheted my musings into the night.
***
The next day, Apathy came knocking.
Again, I opened the damn door.
This time, a beautiful man with dark hair,
Humbly begged through chatter of perfect teeth
For scraps from the day before.
Caution alarmed me -
Never did I make a habit of opening my door for strangers,
So I bid him to depart.
“Why today do you refuse me aid?”
Confusion swam in his dark, charmed eyes.
“Only yesterday you warmed me by your hearth
And fed me of the earth’s bounty.
Surely you wouldn’t deny a dying man now?”
He was only one man,
And tonight was particularly cold,
Besides, if his tale was true,
I wouldn’t dare abandon him now,
So I reluctantly let him through my door.
After all,
How harmful could he be?
As the dark stranger passed my threshold,
He thanked me with a tender kiss.
“For the hearth yesterday,
For the meat and fish,
For all you offer me tonight
And forevermore.”
My husband came down from his study,
Howling as the man’s lips departed mine.
“Did you let him in?” he shouted,
A man crazed by jealous rage.
“I didn’t know!” I screamed,
My mouth aflame with betrayal
And the sweetness of yesterday’s berries.
“I thought him just another caller,
A weary soul in need of aid.”
The remorseless visitor smiled
A wicked grin, thanking my complacency.
“From beggar to king I rise,
And you, my muse, stand denied in my kingdom.”
He struck my husband and bid us both depart.
I tried to toss the man from my home,
But he’d staked his claim and left us for none.
He ate every morsel and drank my wine dry,
Set flame to my house with the hearth
By which I’d warmed him.
The man laughed in greed,
Sinking his teeth into the fabric of my life,
So we darted into the night,
Never to hear thanks from his lips,
No stranger again to darken the ashes of my door.
I walked away from my home in duress,
Violated, sobbing, shivering,
Forever changed.
“Didn’t I tell you, love?” my husband said from my side.
“Shapeshifters haunt these lands, crafty for compliance,
And you let him into our home.”
My husband’s foolishness enraged me.
“Why, then, didn’t we settle elsewhere?
Somewhere the snakes like him never roam.”
“Shapeshifters live everywhere, my dear.
In every village, in every land;
All each can do is protect their home.
That is our claim - our guard.
We let ours down;
Now, he sits on our throne.”
So all kittens have teeth,
All hawks have claws and beaks,
All fawns have nimble feet,
And all men need to eat.
“A shame that to one night,” I mused,
“To one traitor,
Should everything we lose.”
My husband wiped the blood from his brow.
“Was it one night, my love -
Heart so big, many daggers would fit -
Or every night you opened our door
To strangers begging more and more?”
The shapeshifter’s laugh carried on the wind.
It mocked me with his true name - compassion-craving,
Indifference-seeking, compliance-yearning Apathy.
I cried and met my husband’s eye.
“No more will I attempt to mend wings that fly -
Foolish, really, was I.”
“Feed greedy men no more,” my husband warned,
Caressing the lips the venomous man had kissed.
“He will always come back.”
No more horrid a thing could be
Than to see that man slither outside my door -
My Apathy, sweet, helpless Apathy,
Begging with my claim already in tow
For warmth I now begged from others.
So, to the next village we walked,
And I approached a friendly door,
My knocks echoing into the desolate night.
So my name too became Apathy -
By which I was tricked, by which I became,
Cautioning others as I’d learned
To know the shapeshifter’s name.
For when he comes knocking
And learns your home
As though it was his own,
He pastes your name
To the paper of the day’s distress.
Damn all my foolishness,
I beckon you now.
Whatever you do, don’t feed it;
It will come back.
In Hozier’s musical metaphor, I heard the shapeshifter’s voice…
“Don’t let me in with no intention to feed me.”
“I know who I am when I’m alone.
I’m something else when I see you…”
“Can’t be unlearned. I’ve known the warmth of your doorway.”
“Through the cold, I found my way back to you.”
Watch what you allow into your home. Watch the patterns, the asks, the acts in which you’re complicit.
Prevent housefires before you’re shocked at their burning.