I sit at the window; watch the city decay three floors below. The lights in the restaurant across the street
go out. Nobody’s hungry anyway. Buildings bulge and buckle. The sidewalk seems to undulate.
A fist bangs at my bedroom door. “Mr. Frake!”
The smoke begins.
Sirens wail. Hand on my
shoulder. “We must leave.”
I shake my head. “I
am an old man.”
“You can’t give up.”
“I’ll never make it.”
“No…”
“Do not tuck me into the ground in a fancy box lined with
velvet. Take me, what remains, back to
the Pine Barrens. Take me deep into the forest
and lay me down upon brown needles.” I
grasp his hand over my shoulder. “Let
nature do her gentle work.”
“Mr. Frake! You must
come with me now!”
Outside, the rat-a-tat of the guns begin, sharp staccato.
I squeeze his hand and release it. I wheel around to face him. “You’ve been loyal to me all these
years. Promise me this one last thing.”
“It’s not right.”
“I will become bird and soil and tree. I will nurture the earth. I will travel the world as I have always
wanted were it not for this.” I indicate
my wheelchair, my constant companion, more faithful perhaps even than the man
who stands before me, tears in his eyes.
“Leave me.”
He pauses.
“Leave me now!”
“I swear to you that I will return.”
I nod. This is enough
for me.
“I love you, Mr. Frake.”
He kisses my cheek and I think of all the possibilities for his life
that he’s sacrificed in order to make my own possible.
“The Pine Barrens,” I say.
He nods and runs for the door.
And I sit and wait for whatever might come.
And I picture myself lying deep in the forest, nurturing life
as yet unborn.
It is a new start. It
is a fresh start. For the two of us.
“Thank you, Stephen,” I whisper as the door swings on its
hinges.
Labels: fiction Trifecta Writing Challenge