Short Stories of Randomness

My Dying Words

Dark clouds swirled around the snow-capped peaks while the wind-whipped, stinging rain battered my face.

The day before today on the evening of November the sky was gray; no color from the sunset whatsoever. No view for me to instigate my strong and thoughtful emotions about life.

I sat on my old creaky porch, rocking my chair. Staring at a blank perspective of the scene around me. Just gray, cold and windy. I sat there everyday always wondering why the flowers by the river doesn't bloom anymore, but somehow deep inside, I knew why.

Not a slight sense of happiness predominated me ever since the horrific tragedy that happened to my wife. I was devastated; so I crumpled myself up like a piece of paper and dived into the trash. Its been 5 years now, a memory I will never forget, a memory that I will never speak about.

In the distance there's a black familiar object heading this way getting larger and larger. I can sense and hear the creature's every move like thunder clashing from above. I can feel the rumbling and the shaking as it draws closer towards my position, like an incoming crack from the earth. As it got closer and closer, I observe it with scrutiny and I know who it is. The last person I would ever want to see

It's the messenger from the town across the tall mountains, riding his way towards my house with his black horse that he named Centurion.

It has been a while since I had visitors in my property; I was known to be the one visiting the town, not the one to be visited. Awhile back, when a lightning bolt struck my heart into pieces, I demanded every living soul to never ever come and take a single step inside my property line. It was cruel I know, but I had my reasons.

He made a journey just to save me from a brewing storm that I so badly want to perish in, but I refused to tag along with him and be safe under the town's dug basements.

I refused because I wanted too. I refused because I'm too old; 92 and stopping. I refused for the reason that life is no more for me.

"A message is here to warn you of a great storm heading this way, sir. You must leave and come with me."

His voice howled with the wind as he screams aloud to make sure the old man understandably hears him.

"Why have you come?" The old man questioned.

Ignoring the question the messenger carried on.

"Sir, this storm will probably come tomorrow morning and destroy your home! You know I can not leave you here, if that is what you have in mind." He impatiently said.

The old man didn't care at that very moment. He ignored the emergency as if he had deaf ears. As if the messenger was never even there to begin with.

"There is no time for a quite game, pack up what you need and let's go!"

The messenger was arduously exhausted. He knew the answer to his question but he wasn't sure how the old man would react to it. He wasn't sure if it will help change the old man's decision. He wasn't really sure how to say it.

"You know, I remembered when you invited me in here to eat supper with you and your wife. I was just a kid roaming the woods for food, hoping to find at least a single creature for me to feast on. That night, you saved me and I thank you for that."

The old man clearly remembered that event, but by the looks of his face he doesn't care what the messenger has said. In the past, the old man expected better actions from him, so no matter what the messenger will say now, he sure will never be forgiven. The old man simply just wants to hear an answer.