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Link to original post: [drupal=2145]The Hermit[/drupal]
The year is 1989. My best friend John and I were walking home from a long day of fishing in the Flint River. We came out into a clearing and started heading for a local burger joint when we saw a strange little house we'd never noticed before. The house was quite small and was in an advanced state of disrepair. The curious kids we were, we approached the house slowly, through a small cornfield, when we heard a loud scream and a gunshot. To this day, we aren't sure if he fired at us, or something else.
In a few years, the memory faded, and the man who may have tried to kill us left our memory, until the day we went fishing in that area again. On the walk home, I glanced to my left and saw the house that could had been our graveyard all those years ago. Against our better judgement, we approached the house and got as far as the wrecked porch when a voice came from seemingly nowhere.
"What you boys up to?"
We nearly died of fright at that moment. I whirled around and nearly punched the old man. He didn't seem to be carrying a weapon, so I was split on whether to attack him or not. The man looked tired and weak, the type of man who hadn't talked to anyone in years. The little hair that was remaining on his head was greasy and matted, many of his teeth were also missing. He was wearing a gray shirt with a Detroit Lions logo on it, and a pair of green tattered pants. The man also stunk to high heaven, and I was happy he remained at a distance.
"What're you doin' on my property boys?" he asked.
"N-nothing!" John stammered
"Well if you're not doing anything, may as well come inside, eh?"
Not wishing to anger the old man, we reluctanly entered the shack. Upon entrance, we saw that the man had never made an attempt to clean in his life. The place was covered in grime, and the mice seemed to be in a fierce battle against the house. The air was very stale in there, and there was a slight scent of rotting animal. The only thing that looked like it had been touched was the green recliner sitting on the rug. Without speaking, the man gave John and I each a stool. We immediately sat down and the man began to speak.
"You young'uns think it's funny to trespass on the only thing this man's got left?"
"N-no sir!" I stammered.
"Well good then. As a punishment, I'm going to tell you how an old man came to living like this."
"In the old days, this was quite the town. There were many factory jobs that a single man could support himself and his family on. Being the little fool I was, I left college and against my parent's wishes, got a job here at the auto factory. Being the upstart little man that I was, I quickly rose in the ranks, and became a manager. 15 years later, the factory shuts down, and I'm left with not a cent to my name and no college degree. My wife and kids left me when I hit hard times. I was all alone. I moved into this shanty and decided to never show myself to the world again."
I stared at the man. I felt so many emotions at once, pity, anger, sorrow, even revulsion. I nearly cried from the sadness of it all. After finishing his tale, he led us out the door without a word.
Fast forward to 2 days ago. My 11th High School reunion had just ended, and me and John went to look for the man again. We entered the woods and found it very quickly. The house was nearly rendered invisible from the ivy, and the house had large gaping holes in it. We entered the house and searched the kitchen. The smell of rotting food was overwhelming. We went upstairs, but as we entered the 2nd floor landing, the floor nearly collapsed. We then checked the living room, and nestled in the green recliner laid the answer. The old man had passed on.
The year is 1989. My best friend John and I were walking home from a long day of fishing in the Flint River. We came out into a clearing and started heading for a local burger joint when we saw a strange little house we'd never noticed before. The house was quite small and was in an advanced state of disrepair. The curious kids we were, we approached the house slowly, through a small cornfield, when we heard a loud scream and a gunshot. To this day, we aren't sure if he fired at us, or something else.
In a few years, the memory faded, and the man who may have tried to kill us left our memory, until the day we went fishing in that area again. On the walk home, I glanced to my left and saw the house that could had been our graveyard all those years ago. Against our better judgement, we approached the house and got as far as the wrecked porch when a voice came from seemingly nowhere.
"What you boys up to?"
We nearly died of fright at that moment. I whirled around and nearly punched the old man. He didn't seem to be carrying a weapon, so I was split on whether to attack him or not. The man looked tired and weak, the type of man who hadn't talked to anyone in years. The little hair that was remaining on his head was greasy and matted, many of his teeth were also missing. He was wearing a gray shirt with a Detroit Lions logo on it, and a pair of green tattered pants. The man also stunk to high heaven, and I was happy he remained at a distance.
"What're you doin' on my property boys?" he asked.
"N-nothing!" John stammered
"Well if you're not doing anything, may as well come inside, eh?"
Not wishing to anger the old man, we reluctanly entered the shack. Upon entrance, we saw that the man had never made an attempt to clean in his life. The place was covered in grime, and the mice seemed to be in a fierce battle against the house. The air was very stale in there, and there was a slight scent of rotting animal. The only thing that looked like it had been touched was the green recliner sitting on the rug. Without speaking, the man gave John and I each a stool. We immediately sat down and the man began to speak.
"You young'uns think it's funny to trespass on the only thing this man's got left?"
"N-no sir!" I stammered.
"Well good then. As a punishment, I'm going to tell you how an old man came to living like this."
"In the old days, this was quite the town. There were many factory jobs that a single man could support himself and his family on. Being the little fool I was, I left college and against my parent's wishes, got a job here at the auto factory. Being the upstart little man that I was, I quickly rose in the ranks, and became a manager. 15 years later, the factory shuts down, and I'm left with not a cent to my name and no college degree. My wife and kids left me when I hit hard times. I was all alone. I moved into this shanty and decided to never show myself to the world again."
I stared at the man. I felt so many emotions at once, pity, anger, sorrow, even revulsion. I nearly cried from the sadness of it all. After finishing his tale, he led us out the door without a word.
Fast forward to 2 days ago. My 11th High School reunion had just ended, and me and John went to look for the man again. We entered the woods and found it very quickly. The house was nearly rendered invisible from the ivy, and the house had large gaping holes in it. We entered the house and searched the kitchen. The smell of rotting food was overwhelming. We went upstairs, but as we entered the 2nd floor landing, the floor nearly collapsed. We then checked the living room, and nestled in the green recliner laid the answer. The old man had passed on.
Well written too.