Posted 17 December 2013 - 07:44 PM
When my son was young he would walk to the end of the drive to wait for the school bus. I would stand at the bay window off the side nook of our home where I could look down the drive and watch until he safely got on board. Sounding like a good father this may be. But in actuality I found I enjoyed the heat off the glass and watching the life outdoors from the birds to the ever changing leaves of the seasons. Here I would smoke my morning cigarette. It wasn’t long I had moved a small bench near the window so I could sit and be a bit more comfortable And take in a bit more of my surroundings. I bought a nice brass ashtry on a stand to place next to my bench and would bring in my newspaper into the nook ., By the following year I came to realize It wasn’t much of a bench or that comfortable, So I decided to have some work done to the room and to the window I had a much better built in bench placed into the wall almost making me like a cat sitting on a lagre comfy ledge over looking the world , searching for his pray, like that fat robin I watch in the mornings searching out a nice fat worm.
On day while peering down the drive , watching , waiting for my son to board the bus, I noticed a shadowy figure standing off to his side. I would not say it a ghost or man, just an odd shadowy figure,, quite perplex this left me , almost to the point of quizzy, what was this figure ,, what was it doing out there ?
For the next few mornings to weeks perhaps months I would watch with an unsettling intent ,, always wondering , what was this figure, a shadow from a limb or tree ?
In the afternoons if I were to walk to the end of the drive never was there any evidence of such a figure, questioning my son , was always the same “ your crazy” he would
Say. But No I was not crazy ,, I saw what I saw and what I saw was a real as you and me.
As the years past , I began to come to terms with the figure at the end of the drive , I knew well whatever it was meant my son no harm. But still each day I found myself looking out the window.. Years would pass , no longer did my son need a protective eye to watch him get on to the bus. But still each morning I went to the window for my morning coffee , cigarette and newspaper. Always peering down the drive slowly it was becoming obvious the figure had turned its sights to me,, no longer was I the watcher , but now the watchy. And with this the hair on the back of my neck stood up,
Schools years would come and go, Jason would be moving in the fall to attend collage and I found my self remolding more and more I had moved my study down into nook , moved a side wall expanding the nook itself allowing me more room, I worked from home and really found with these accommodations I was just fine, plus saving me time from going up and down the stairs so much.
At once this shadowy figure a bit of amusement now each day an every growingly obsession, a looming haunt always in the back of my mind. Never was it different from one day to the next , but over the years it was easy to see this was a man in grim black suit complete with over coat and hat.
For years I asked visitors that would stop by , “what they thought of the man at the end of my drive ?” always to be givng the same response “ Still on that kick” so in time I stoped asking , I came to except it was only myself that could see him. But as a say , what I saw , I saw , and he was real. As real as you or I.
By the second year Jason had moved out , my work had slowed down. To save some money on heating and other bills I pretty much moved myself completely into the nook , which now was more like a tiny apt. I had a small bed and fridge a microwave, my coffee pot . Sure I would still make it threw the maze the rest of the down stairs had become to make it into the kitchen if need be. But for the most part I was fine in my cubby.
With less work these days I found myself spending more on my bench smoking my cigarettes watching my mystery man in black. With the difference being now slowly I could see he was approaching the house. Not each day could I notice, but slowly, ever so slowly he was making his way down the drive.
Until the morning I woke to look out the window and there he stood straight across the drive. I knew then , right then.. Who had come calling ! His eyes were hallow as if none were there at all. His face a slunken gray like dead skin draped across a skelton . No longer was his black suit of fine linen now a grab more like canvas with a hood from the top of his head dragging past his feet. No more then I peered into his sullun face, he turned abruptly proceeding down the drive. I knew with out a doubt . His next stop was the front door.
Dizzzy, breathless, my knees week ,, I stammered back, the back of my knees hit a recliner I had set up. Into which I fell. Sitting there now lost reality was gone ,, where was I ? what was going on ? what had I done ? I reached for a cigarette to comfort me , to guide me, to give me answers.
And there I sat and smoked . Looking down on to my cracked and dried skin, stained yellow from years of tar and nicotine. I saw all the answers I was looking for.
With my own two hands I molded my own death , from once only a shadowy figure at the end of my drive to a creature from the underworld. I forged my own end, one cigarette at a time. One day after another ,one year after another, all the while knowing death was monitoring my every move. Why did I not stop? I could have quit ,millions do it every day. Why did I not run from this house? was I blind, a fool ? Or an addict appeasing myself, to avoid the discomforts of nicotine withdrawal…
*rasp*rasp*rasp*
The cold steal of his scythe rattles the front glass…
