The monkey, frozen forever in his thoughtful position on the corner of the Sherwood Building spoke, “Didja see that, Ernie? They’re taking photos of us again.”

Ernie had seen. The tiny bit of flash had sparkled in his one eye that faced upon the street. He really wished he could blink. “The sun ain’t bad enough,” he grumbled. Ernie had been in a bad mood ever since he’d been caught upon the cornice. He’d settled there, just for a moment, preparing to pounce on a quite large and no doubt juicy mouse. The mouse was long gone, and Ernie was paralyzed, forever. “I’m starving,” the gryphon muttered.

Harold, the monkey, sighed sympathetically. The smoothie shop was just around the corner from their buidling and it was torture to smell the banana smoothies that were so popular during the summer. He would dearly love to have one of those.

“I felt a new crack, Harold,” said Ernie. “I’m certain its under my right foot.”

“Oh yeah! I felt that one, too, Ernie. Tickled me backside, it did!” Harold laughed delightedly.

“Don’t get all worked up, Harold,” Ernie cautioned. “It may not affect both of us.”

Harold’s laughter abruptly stopped. Four weeks ago, work that had begun on the building behind them had caused cracks to appear on the opposite corner of the Sherwood’s facade. Ernie’s counterpart on that corner had miraculously been set free. Harold’s counterpart, though, hung precariously over a jagged void, wishing for his own freedom. Ernie could hear Harold grinding his teeth; it was the only sign Harold ever made of his discontent.

Ernie drew in a slow breath, “It is my sincerest wish, Harold, that we’re freed at the same time.”

Deep inside his stone face, Harold smiled. Ernie could be depressing, caustic, and a general old poop, but the two were solid friends, literally.

All the buildings in the block where the Sherwood Building was were old, magnificent things. But they were falling apart. The owner of the Sherwood had tried his best to keep the businesses within its walls where they were, but the owners that owned the other buildings had sold and those structures were being slowly and methodically torn down during this spring and summer months in the city. At the beginning of the season, the last tenant had moved out and the Sherwood’s doors closed for the very last time. The buildings behind the Sherwood were the first to go. The damage was swift and caused concussions that affected the Sherwood. Little by little, even though it was yet untouched by destructive machinery, chunks of the Sherwood would crack loose and tumble to the sidewalk below.

It was a few days later that a reporter for the local news who was downtown keeping an eye out for a story, looked up and caught a glimpse of the Sherwood Building. He’d passed the building thousands of times since moving to the city. He’d even taken extensive photographs of the monkeys, gryphons, lions and gargoyles that decorated its facade. A little over a month ago a gryphon had gone missing. No doubt smashed to powder on the sidewalk below. The report was looking at another gaping void on the opposite corner. A monkey and a gryphon were now gone. His eyes dropped to the sidewalk as he expected to see powder and broken shards of the building’s corner. The sidewalk was clean.

Lifting his camera to his eye, he recorded the damage.

*****************
Copyright Jayne d’Arcy 2006. All rights reserved.

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