Brief fiction narrative about an old man, a young man, and a misunderstanding.
LOOK AT MY EYES
The Old Man
I awake to the dark and bitter loneliness of the world around me. My head is throbbing and my bladder is full. My age truly shows when I have no memory of the previous night, but know for sure that I wasn’t out having a good time, or out at all for that matter. I feel for the cane at the side of my bed and eventually grasp its glossy wooden handle. Pain sears into my kneecaps as I struggle to stand up. The agony is a constant reminder of my past, a daily punishment for my glory days. I let out a groan that wakes up Madeline. I hear the metal tags of her collar clanging together as she walks towards me. I pat her head affectionately.
“Good morning love,” I say as I do everyday. My life runs like clockwork. I am unable to separate one day from another as they are all exactly the same. I no longer make an attempt at progress. I end my days with the same thoughts that I start them with. My stubborn, uneventful lifestyle manifests itself in Madeline: a dog that is unaware of the fact that she is living the same day over and over.
I count my paces as I walk to the bathroom. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. I count them again as I walk into the kitchen. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, step down, eleven, twelve. I sit at the table with my loving dog by my feet.
“Today’s gonna be a good day Maddy,” I say in what Madeline most likely believes to be a genuine tone.
I feel the bittersweet warmth of the rising sun and reflect upon days gone by. I think about the bright days, the colorful days. I think about Rose. I can almost hear her voice. The sight is fading. I can’t remember what she looks like.
“You woulda loved her,” I pathetically tell my dog.
I pour a bowl of cereal that tastes like wood. I eat half of it and throw the rest out. I desperately need variety. I slowly stand up and make my way to the stove. I feel the rising heat as I turn it on.. I welcome the heat. I welcome the change. I find meat from the freezer and fry a burger. I tremble with an excitement that I haven’t felt since Rose left. I smother the burger with cheese and ketchup and I savor every bite. The taste takes my breath away. It’s the taste of freedom, the taste of closure.
The barks and cries of Madeline mean it is time for her walk. I walk out the door in a completely different mood. As in most human-dog relationships, Madeline has the upper hand. She walks me. We walk down the driveway in the brisk autumn weather. She takes me down the sidewalk and stops to pee on the neighbors’ mailbox. The new neighbors. I have been intentionally rude to them since they moved in two weeks ago. My bold new perspective on life tells me to knock on their door and bury the hatchet. Maddy walks me down their driveway and up stairs. My trembling knuckles feel the cold glass as I knock on the door.
The Young Man
“I hate you,” She says, wiping tears from her eyes. She doesn’t mean it.
“Leave me then. Divorce me,” I say with my back turned. I’m trembling and I don’t know why. Am I nervous or excited? I convince myself its the latter.
Lisa screams a strand of obscenities. I turn around to her. I look into her soggy blue eyes and then look away at once. She walks out of the room. I slowly follow her.
“Get away from me!” she screams. I get closer. I know her so well that I can almost read her thoughts. I can feel her emotions. She is both agitated and satisfied by my presence. The sun is rising. We’ve been fighting all night.
“Lisa. Listen to me, please,” I say with feigned emotion that I haven’t genuinely felt in years. “I’m sorry. I’ve betrayed you and hurt you and for that I am truly sorry.” I manage to form tears in my eyes. My performance sends a chill through my body. She’s buying it.
“I… I just don’t know you anymore,” She says in someone else’s voice. “We’re just not in love anymore. You don’t love me and you know it. We pass by each other in this foreign house and we’re strangers.” She speaks with uncharacteristic validity. Her words somehow affect me. I feel shameful, guilty almost. I can’t stand to look at her. I can’t stand the vulnerability. Her ugliness rubs off on me. I hate her.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she says with fear in her voice. It makes me happy. I quicken my pace and get closer to her. She falls off her chair and onto the cold kitchen floor. I pick up a knife off the counter and watch her squirm. She doesn’t scream. She doesn’t make a noise. As I drive the knife through her chest I hear a knock on the sliding-glass door that makes my blood run cold. I see a man and a dog watching me. I can’t look him in the eye.
The Misunderstanding
I eagerly wait for the neighbors to answer the door. Madeline is unhappy. She barks and whines uneasily.
“What’s wrong Maddy?” I say. Just then, the sound of shattering glass fills my ears. I don’t know what to do. Before I can react I’m tackled to the ground by an anonymous force. Madeline growls and snarls at my attacker.
“You didn’t see anything old man,” the voice says. I feel a piercing blade against my throat. “Do you hear me? You didn’t see anything. Say it.”
“I… I really didn’t see… anything,” I try to stay calm but fill with confusion and anxiety.
“Good. But I’m still going to kill you,” the voice says edgily.
“Wait… Look… Look at what you’re doing,” I say, trying unsuccessfully to throw my assailant off of me. “Look at my eyes… You’re about to kill a blind man for something he’s seen?” The blade eases off of my throat and the man releases me. Madeline, my seeing-eye-dog, affectionately licks my face.
Welcome to Authspot, the spot for creative writing.
Read some stories and poems, and be sure to subscribe to our feed!