The Old Man with Gold in His Eyes

A Story by rhall

This is an excerpt from a larger piece I'm working on.

The bus shook thunderously on the rough pavement. Light shattered off the clouds in the sky and cast the world in a dusty, gray film. A weak column of light fell upon a tall, heavyset man seated in the back corner of the shuttle. His face was wide with large, protruding eyes with deep, purple bags underneath. His irises were pale yellow like faded paper. They enclosed in them grey pupils that could only see in loosely drawn contours and muted colors. He carried a walking stick and a large, brown briefcase with him. Inside the case, there were a pair of gloves, a set of pruning shears, and a book: Nature’s Most Powerful Medicinal Plants. The man heard an old dog rasping in the distance. His eyes turned to the window in an attempt to see but he could only detect a dull sheet of gray and the dust falling in front of his face. In a moment, the mist melted away and a golden tint seemed to brush the air in a . In it’s glow, a boy and his dog appeared laughing and barking as they played in a lush field. The grass was dense and green. It nearly engulfed the two in its abundance. The man watched them for a brief moment as the light played off their silhouettes. Abruptly, as if all of a sudden aware of the eyes watching, the boy stopped playing and stared back at the man. There was a crack like lightning as the bus hit a pothole and a hissing from the breaks. A voice over the speaker declared this was his stop. The man stood clumsily with haste and shuffled off the bus. He dismounted and the beast went sputtering and shaking off into the cold mist.

The man approached his final destination; a trail head on a bleached mountainside. He stood alone at the worn wooden post and stared down the winding path ahead. He knew he was in the right place. As he was staring, the stand of trees that was still as stone only a moment ago, trembled as if some unseen being had blown breath into them. A yellow light split the breaks between the trees like golden daggers pointing him down the trail. He followed their direction as quickly as he could on his frail legs. Each new breath he drew became shallower and shallower as the man flung his haggard frame onwards. As he struggled forward, he saw a young man with broad shoulders; a wide, square jaw; and eager, bulging eyes at his side. The young man hacked through the underbrush as sweat poured down his face in little golden beads. The old man stared at this distorted mirror as he followed breathlessly. As much as the old man tried he could not keep pace and the golden figure soon left him in the dust. Still, he crawled crawled past the trees, compelled by fear.

At last he came to an open meadow with yellow flowers pulsating in the wind. The whole field was ablaze in their light but there was something wrong. There was a sickness to the flowers, a slight green tinge that tainted their beauty. The man looked down at his papery hands. He could almost see the skin blowing off them like dust. He sank into the ground without the intention to rise again. He stared at the flowers that now seemed only to taunt him. Then, a deep yellow pin of light cast itself in the center of the field. The man tried to stand but found that he could not so he set forth on his hands and knees and crawled towards the light. Rocks and twigs tore his clothes and scrapped his body but he persisted. When at last he reached the center, he saw a single, golden flower. Its three lofy petals opened gracefully to the sky. It seemed to exude life. Numerous thorns were arranged on its thick stem. The old man reached into his bag, pulled out his glove and shears and cut the flower from its base. He lifted it towards the sky and admired it. In its glow he saw himself as a young man again. Tears began to streak down his face as he envisioned the life he would have once again. He crushed the flower in his hands and a golden syrup flowed down his arms. His cracked lips were on the cusp of receiving the treacle when a dark cloud formed and blocked out the sun. A low rumble like a an angry dog shook the trees. A deafening boom engulfed the meadow as a white bolt struck the man where he held the plant and shot down through his body to the earth. The bolt took his soul with it and the man fell to the ground. The flower rolled out of his hand and re-rooted itself to the ground. It stood itself up as its petals turned a sickly yellow-green.