dreamsbegone
03-17-2006, 12:49 PM
It was an unpredictable day since the morning. We'd been through both sloppy and fine weather. That certain time of afternoon which I used was calm and the clouds were few and sparse. The wind blew them off, once here and once there. Birds were few as well. It was just like spring time in one of the northern European countries. It was perfect for flying a kite. I was sitting under a great pine tree which time had left its mark on, names and dates. It was large and so old. Sun rays touched the face of the people in that garden giving them a feel of warmth. It was obvious in their eyes. Those eyes that the sun's affectionateness made hyaloid so you could see through them. I was looking at the people walking by. I guess I wanted to enjoy this moment as long as I could.
In moments weather began changing. Clouds gathered in front of the sun cloaking a part of its light. The blue sky which was like a sea up there became all washed-up sad grey and the noise of the walkers became a terrible silence that was broken by few words a man behind me said.
- that weather is strange. I swear it is.
- Yes, once it is summer and once it is winter.
I said that while I was turning back to see who that man was. An old man emerged from behind the tree. He was so old. As old as that tree. His face was white, but the heat made it look purple. He was sweating. I stood up and asked him to sit beside me. He was short and bald with a mid-length white beards. He wore a neat blue woolen blouse with a well chosen brown trousers. The way he spoke he was an educated man. He sat down heavily and said.
- I see that people still come to this tree.
- yes, I guess so.
He gave himself a little time to rest and added.
- I used to come to this tree when I was 18 years old.
- You did?
He stood up again and went to the tree. He pointed to the bole and said.
- there, do you see? There is my name.
I went by him and looked at the same part he pointed. The carving on the tree was so old and was not so clear. I couldn't know the name. it began with A. we both went back to our seats. The man was moaning when he sat just as he did when he stood up. He was trying to smile but it was clear he was trying to hide his pain.
- that damned pain in my back. It is never gone.
After few minutes the old man stood up and walked away. I watched him until he was gone. I kept there in my place for seconds then I left. My house was not so far. I could see the tree from my roof. Once I went inside my home it began to rain. I settled in my room as I heard the sound of the rain hitting at my window.
A silly story. Isn't it? When I wrote that story I wanted to show something that I always believed in and shall always believe in. Not every story has to prove a point. Sometimes you read a story just to enjoy it. A silly story is not a story with nothing to prove. A silly story is not a strange story that cannot happen in reality so there is no silly story.
In moments weather began changing. Clouds gathered in front of the sun cloaking a part of its light. The blue sky which was like a sea up there became all washed-up sad grey and the noise of the walkers became a terrible silence that was broken by few words a man behind me said.
- that weather is strange. I swear it is.
- Yes, once it is summer and once it is winter.
I said that while I was turning back to see who that man was. An old man emerged from behind the tree. He was so old. As old as that tree. His face was white, but the heat made it look purple. He was sweating. I stood up and asked him to sit beside me. He was short and bald with a mid-length white beards. He wore a neat blue woolen blouse with a well chosen brown trousers. The way he spoke he was an educated man. He sat down heavily and said.
- I see that people still come to this tree.
- yes, I guess so.
He gave himself a little time to rest and added.
- I used to come to this tree when I was 18 years old.
- You did?
He stood up again and went to the tree. He pointed to the bole and said.
- there, do you see? There is my name.
I went by him and looked at the same part he pointed. The carving on the tree was so old and was not so clear. I couldn't know the name. it began with A. we both went back to our seats. The man was moaning when he sat just as he did when he stood up. He was trying to smile but it was clear he was trying to hide his pain.
- that damned pain in my back. It is never gone.
After few minutes the old man stood up and walked away. I watched him until he was gone. I kept there in my place for seconds then I left. My house was not so far. I could see the tree from my roof. Once I went inside my home it began to rain. I settled in my room as I heard the sound of the rain hitting at my window.
A silly story. Isn't it? When I wrote that story I wanted to show something that I always believed in and shall always believe in. Not every story has to prove a point. Sometimes you read a story just to enjoy it. A silly story is not a story with nothing to prove. A silly story is not a strange story that cannot happen in reality so there is no silly story.