The Curmudgeon

An old man goes on a mental journey

In his living room, or in any room for that matter, all that happens is constant thought patterns that arise from the most mundane things. All he has are his thoughts, some are misguided in elegant way, others have direction, but no zenith, no conclusion, no direction. Just thoughts, just hopeless inquiries that deep down he knew that they should never be answered, but he will never stop attempting to finish them. He will never stop trying to find solace.

            The boy who had offered to assist the man knocked on the door. He tapped his foot rapidly, as if he was trying to break the veranda he stood upon. The Old man looked at him, gave a shy smile and said "Thank You, David, this means a lot." David mirrored the shy smile to make it seem like he wasn't overtly nervous. David walked in, saw his the box he had to carry upstairs and grabbed it. He looked at the old man, and the box, then the old man, then the box, then the old man, then scoffed internally, and carried on. The Old man noticed the boy, he wasn't stalking him per say, but he was enthralled by his youth, his innocence, and "Perfectness". He had a shocking resemblance to the old man when he was a boy, but then again jealousy has a way of changing your perspective. David then went upstairs and put the box down in the old man's room, it smelled like his own room, but here in an unknown place, it was frightening.

           

            David looked at the pictures on the wall, that of young people. He thought about them, and felt a brief sympathy for the old man, but this thought became superseded by money which he so desperately needed to buy candy. Before going downstairs, he heard a fracas, it was a short sound that resonated throughout the house, he ran to the staircase, then looked down at a dying flower. David wanted to call his mother, but something inside him goaded him to go to the man, and stay there. He fell to one knee and shouted "Mr. Jones?" The man opened his eyes, and emitted a harsh scream. David became still, and felt like he couldn't move, but he couldn't let the man die on his conscience . He touched The old man's hand, which then subsequently latched on to David's. David's mind then evaporated in the sky like smoke from a cannon, neither of them were scared, it felt perfectly natural to them. 

           

            Mr. Jones saw through the eyes of David. He was not David, just the embodiment of him. He felt a surge of jubilance, and escaped the prison that was his home and ran away, faster than he ever could all the way to the woods. He was in such joy, that he wasn't even rationalizing this incredible thing which had just happened. He didn't care, his existence had become more than what it was prior, it was worth wild. All he could do was run, not think, just run, he was inside David, however he was not him. But in this everlasting moment, they were intertwined.

             

            Could it be better? The sagacity, and knowledge of an old man mixed with the youth and freedom of a child. Is this not the ideal situation? Running around he began to look for, Teresa. He knew she would be around, he was filled with such adrenaline, that he must have forgotten about her. He went to where her house once lay, and stopped short, the realization slowly seeped inside of him, and tears began to appear. He shouted her name, but the words were sealed up, in his own body, in his own mouth. This attested to him that this whole experience was a complete lie. Right then, he felt himself fade away, a light came over David’s body then Mr. Jones’s soul was released back to where it was supposed to lay.  He came back, still not in shock or awe, just acceptance. Then he began to ponder, once again about the unanswerable questions he so desperately needed solved, so he could instill them in his heart that continued to beat.