I once met an old man standing right beside a bench beside the road of clay. “Go on, sit, tired traveler, take a breath. You won’t miss much,” said the man with an old scar on his throat.
Now that I had sat down, I wouldn’t hesitate to ask, “Why the scar, old man?” “Worry not thyself in such little matters, wayfarer,” he added, “for that is our curse to live with.” “Alright, then keep your secrets.” I looked away from him for a while. “Could you, please, for the love of God, hear out my prayers?” he chanted. “Is it too much to ask for a merciful, sweet death?” he said, raising his left hand and pointing the index finger towards the sky as if he were talking to God.
“I once had a large owl sitting on my shoulder, you know.” “Huh, is that so?” I replied with my imagination. “She would avert her eyes by looking behind my shoulder every time I finished my work,” he told me with teary eyes. “With big, dark eyes, she could stare directly into your soul.” “Then last year happened, and suddenly she was gone.” He sounded frustrated. “Maybe this is all for good now,” he added. “Now I don’t work.”
All of a sudden, he looked at me, as if I came out of thin air. He kept on talking, hiding his surprise.
“About thirty years ago, I married an Aino girl from the mountain terrains of Kurils. She had these mesmerizing, bright blue eyes. We spent the entire winter there, away from civilization. It was hard. I hunted down a rabbit or two each day. Daytime was short those days. We would hurry back to our dome in fear of mother bears. Yet, it was a good time to see snow piling up behind the curtains with your loved one. You have to keep up the flame and keep on fighting to be with your loved one. Later that year, I buried her on the mountaintop,” he remembered.
“What happened to her?” I asked.
“I don’t know, probably hypothermia or something,” he said, sounding confused. “You know, when they take their last breath, they see something. Most of the time, the vision hurts them; very few get to be happy while they die.”
I bid him farewell that evening and thanked him for sharing his story. I had to board in time for the next ship. I had to see my wife, whom I had been missing for years. So, I hurried in on horseback.
After a while, a cold gust of wind began to pass. My heart kept on aching. Then I saw the old man. I fell from the horseback.
“Why?” I cried. “Why me?” “I haven’t seen her in years; let me spare time for this.” “I know. Come with me, my friend.” “Embrace the eternal bliss,” he said with a gentle voice. “Let me just hug you with love.” “What do you see right now?”
Resisting all the pain in the world, I denied him the notion. “You know they died before they could answer me.” “Now, the mystery goes on.”
“Do you have any last requests?” “Yes,” I said. “Can you please hold my hand?”
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Writer
Sadi Reza
Intern, Content Writing Department
YSSE