Should Old Acquaintance Be Forgot

The old man leaned on his cane as he made his way up a winding path towards a small brick cottage. By the time he reached the front door, he was wheezing from the exertion. He paused for a moment and looked around as he caught his breath.

He’d forgotten how beautiful this place was. The cottage was on a high hill overlooking a sea that shimmered in the moonlight, and the air tasted of salt. The weather was neither too hot nor too cold, and just standing there made him feel at peace.

The sound and smell of a crackling fire greeted him as he opened the door. He placed his cane against the wall and then turned to the cottage’s other occupant.

A very young child, not much more than a baby, sat on the elegant red and blue rug by the fireplace. The child had smooth brown skin and large black eyes that were as radiant as the old man’s were cloudy.

He bent over the child and smiled.

“Hello there, little one,” he said sadly. He touched a finger to the child’s soft cheek, marveling that once upon a time his own skin had felt that flawless. But had his eyes ever been that full of hope and promise? That was hard to imagine now.

A bottle of brandy, a snifter, and an hourglass sat on a mahogany table next to a plush velvet armchair by the fireplace. The old man poured himself a drink and then settled in by the fire.

“You know,” he said to the child, “it’s not my fault that so many awful things happened on my watch. I certainly didn’t want all the death. The loss. The suffering. And as for all the other things that happened …” The old man broke off and shook his head. “Well, good luck to the people of Earth. They’re going to need it.”

The brandy stung slightly as it went down his throat, and he winced. The child looked up at him with bright eyes and gave him a gummy smile.

The old man knew that whatever his intentions had been, there were many people who were not going to miss him when he was gone. He supposed he couldn’t blame them.

“No offense, my dear, but I’m glad that whatever comes next is your problem and not mine. I’m so tired my bones ache from it. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

The old man took another sip of brandy and stared into the fireplace. His energy ebbed away, and he knew that it wasn’t just from the brandy or the warmth of the fire. He sank into the cozy armchair, feeling warm and comforted and ready for whatever came next.

Just then, the last grains of sand ran through the hourglass. With one final bit of strength, he reached out and turned the hourglass over. As the room faded from his sight, he thought he could hear the sounds of countdowns, fireworks, and cheering from all over the world.

As the old man slipped away in the velvet armchair, the child struggled to her feet for the first time. She toddled forward, her chubby legs getting used to the process of supporting her.

She moved unsteadily towards the old man, but as she got closer she could sense that he was gone, passed into history at last. She placed a plump fist halfway in her mouth and gnawed it thoughtfully, and then she turned and headed for the front door. Behind her, the fireplace went dark and cold.

She could just reach the ornate brass doorknob, and she turned it with no small effort. The door opened to reveal a brilliant orange sun just starting to rise over the shimmering sea and the dark horizon.

After one last look at the cottage behind her, 2017 stepped outside.

(Personal Note: 2016 was an absolute dumpster fire of a year for me on just about every level it was possible for a year to be godawful. And I know I’m far from alone in that; I read a lot of your stories even if I don’t always comment. Finding the Medium community, and the Weekly Knobbiers in particular, might well have been one of the only bright spots of my 2016. May 2017 leave all of us in a much better place than we were when it first found us.)

If you enjoyed this, there’s plenty more where it came from.