A Little Story

Once there was a man. He was walking home on a windy autumn evening. He walked slowly, almost reluctantly. There were tear stains on his face and his clothes were all askew. He had always hated funerals. But then again whoever liked them?

As he walked on, he felt someone’s gaze on him. He lifted his head and caught the sight of a man. It was just the man he wanted to see at a time like this. It was his best friend. He smiled at his friend warmly and got a smile in return. The presence of his friend worked like magic. In no time the two were talking and laughing, all the sorrow of the day forgotten. Soon they could be found running around and playing like they used to when they were kids. The place was filled with the echoes of their laughter – a laughter of innocent pleasure that remains saved exclusively for childhood against the treacherous hands of time.

During their play they came across an old tree and decided to put their tree climbing skills to test. The man took the first turn ascending while his friend remained below. But time had played its game well. The man was no longer the agile kid. He lost his balance and with a scream fell to the ground. When the pain had subsided a little, he looked up at his friend accusingly. Why had he not caught him? His friend stood there, simply looking, his face expressionless. There seemed something different about him, but what it was the man could not quite put his finger on. He held out his hand to his friend, asking for his assistance. His friend’s face remained impassive. He moved his hand but stopped midway.

Shocked, the man yelled at his friend from the ground, tears pouring down again. He begged for his friend’s help and comfort. Was this his friendship? True friends do not leave their friends lying on the ground.

With great effort he got to his feet. He sighed heavily and turned around, resuming his journey home. Tears no longer ran down his face. He had to go home. His family will be waiting for him for dinner. 

He had left his friend under that tree. Let that bastard rot in his grave.