The Old Man

    He couldn't understand why this was happening but all his instincts told him to run.  Who were those men? Why were they after him? He didn't have any answers for the questions running through his mind.  He couldn't think about that right now.  He found himself in a situation running frantically through alleyways in the pitch of night trying to escape from three men that were chasing him.

     When they had come up to him on the sidewalk, he was standing under a street lamp waiting at the bus stop. He was waiting for the bus to take downtown to get back to the hospital where his wife and daughter were. The darkness outside the light didn't let him see much so when they appeared wearing dark suits he never even saw them approaching.  

   The men looked odd.  They had weird plastic like skin and they were wearing dark sunglasses even though it was night out.  Even their hair seemed fake.  They didn't ask any questions.  They just came up to him and said "come with us, do not resist Dorian" and forcefully grabbed and pulled his arm. "He wants to see you," they said.  He didn't know what they were talking about.

"Umm, I think you have me confused with someone else," Dorian replied yanking his arm away.

"Do not resist," they replied with a sinister tone as they reached again for his arm.  Grabbing it, he began to struggle to get free.  He didn't hesitate this time.  Something told him to run and so he did.  He turned and sprinted down the sidewalk and quickly turned into an alleyway.  They pursued.  They were right behind him running at full sprint.  He couldn't think of why they were chasing him all he knew was that he just needed to get away from them.  He kept running and turning corner after corner through dark alleyways and the small spaces between buildings.  

     He shouted, "Help! Someone! Anyone!" There was no one around.  It was like the dark night had swallowed every other person.  He just kept running as he could still hear their forceful steps behind him.  He ran like he was trying to find his way through a maze.  

     He stopped gasping for breath.  He took a moment to scan his surroundings but he now realized he didn't know where he was.  He had gotten himself lost in some part of the city.  A cold dread ran up his spine and a terrifying thought entered his mind.  Did they lead him here?  Did they guide him exactly where they wanted him? He couldn't be sure.  He just knew he had to keep moving.  He could still hear their steps echoing off the buildings as they kept searching for him.  

     The night had an eerie chill in the air and a faint mist seemed to be moving across the ground.  He needed to find another bus stop and get the hell out of there.  He needed to get back to his wife and daughter.  

      He kept moving until he saw it.  He turned a corner and there it was, some kind of half circle coming out of the ground and in it, an old man sitting on a bench in broad daylight in stark contrast to the dark night that existed outside of this half circle.  Was it some kind of portal? What was this thing? Who was this man? He didn't understand what was going on until a cold realization washed over him.  He recognized this old man.  A foreboding chill crawled through his entire body.  He remembered him.  He met him many years ago on that same bench he was sitting in on the other side of this half circle.  How could this be? 

...

   Years before Dorian found himself running away from sinister men chasing him, he lived in a different part of the city.  An older part of the city.  And this old man used to sit across the street on the bench from his apartment window but never seemed to talk to anyone.  Dorian saw him everyday.  He just sat in peace and watched.  He was striking in his appearance.  He looked to be in his late sixties with a chiseled jaw and short grey stubble.  Streaks of grey running through his jet black hair.  He had smokey grey and green eyes with deep wrinkles.  He wore very nice clothes that could have been plucked right out of the 1930s.  A light brown blazer with really nice slacks.  

   One day Dorian walked by his bench and the old man spoke to him.

"Gettin' cold out, huh," the old man said turning his head slightly toward him.  Dorian looked around making sure he was speaking to him.  This was the first time he ever heard him speak to anyone.

"Yeah, a bit chilly today," he replied.

"Yes.  Lots of grey.  Your name is Dorian, right?" the old man asked placing his hands into his coat pockets.

"Yeah it is.  How did you know that?" 

"Oh, I know a lot things Dorian.  You know, the orange of Autumn is almost here.  It's so beautiful.  I can see it in the trees.  These sidewalks..." he said gesturing to the ground, "will soon be filled with dying orange leaves that will dry and become brittle brown ones.  But such is life, right."

Dorian nodded his head in agreement still curious how this man knew his name.
"Do you know my mom?" he asked.

"Have a seat Dorian.  Enjoy the blissful ignorance of time.  You're still young. How old are you? Thirty one?"

Again Dorian nodded his head.  Something about the way the old man talked made Dorian unsettled but had him very intrigued.  There was some kind of mysticism in the way he spoke.  It almost had a trance like effect.

"I thought so," he said.  "You young kids will miss the seasons changing when they're gone.  All this..." he said again gesturing around him, "the trees, the grass, the cold air, all of it, will die one day and everything will be an inescapable grey."
"You mean like global warming and all that?" Dorian asked.

"No, no, I mean like the world will eventually die and all that will be left will be just a grey floating rock," he said letting out a small guttural chuckle. "It won't be gradual either.  Death sometimes is as sudden as a heart attack or a bullet to the head," he said lifting his chin up toward the grey sky and inhaling a deep breath of cold air before continuing. "You know how that looks, with your head splayed open and your brains spread out like a butterfly's wings.  And then you're left with nothing more than a fast rotting carcass and shit in your pants.  Nothing gradual or pretty about that, wouldn't you agree Dorian."

Confused, Dorian replied, "Well, I think there's some time left before that happens.  I don't think the Earth is on the verge of turning into a complete rock just yet."
"You would think," the old man replied looking up into the trees.  "The trees seem to be giving up these days.  Nothing much one can do when something gives up.  But humans are resilient," he said folding his leg over the other.  "You can be left with a floating rock and you'll just find a way to live on.  That's what I like about you, you'll give away your morals, your humanity, you'll strip away whatever made you human in the first place just so you can survive.  Until, eventually, you give away too much and become, well, nothing in the end.  Just to slowly dwindle away into another relic of the past," he said as he pulled a red oak smoking pipe from his coat pockets.  He slammed it against the side of the bench a few times emptying it out and placing fresh tobacco inside it.  He placed the end in his mouth and before lighting it he said, "I wonder sometimes if things can change," he then lit the match and sucked and puffed and sucked and puffed until he knew the tobacco was burning well.  "But then I realize," he said as he rested his pipe in his lap as silky haze snaked thin lines of smoke into the air, "it has all been done before, and right now is nothing more than someone's memory somewhere."

Dorian finally sat down next to him.  "What do you mean?" he asked somehow feeling completely captivated by his presence.  He couldn't quite grasp what it was about him but his words felt like they contained some kind of power.

"Oh, well..." he said pausing for a moment and rubbing the temples of his head with his thumb and index finger, "...my mind has seen many lifetimes.  Probably more than should be allowed," he said letting out another small guttural chuckle.  "Sometimes it can be boring to watch things play out when you already know the ending.  Whatever that is anyway.  The ending.  I'm just enjoying the changing of the seasons," he said closing his eyes and taking a deep breath of the Autumn air.  There was a coldness that carried the dirt smell of brittle orange leaves and stale yellow grass.  One could definitely smell Autumn coming.  "I see all the grey that is slowly showing itself and it just reminds me of the things you are willing to give up," he said taking another long puff on his pipe.  "You know, time, how it works; it is all happening at the same time.  Like pages in a book.  Its all there, all on top of each other with each page having its own part of the story.  Just waiting for its small slice of time."  He said before stopping a moment to let the smoke snake out of his mouth and nostrils.  "You can go through page by page and make sense of it but if you wanted, you could always skip to the end and spoil it for yourself.  I, myself, like to skip to the end sometimes and then come back to the beginning with that knowledge and maybe change something in the story." He stopped and looked at Dorian with his piercing grey and green eyes.  "But time is not quite like a book is it, Dorian" he said searching for something, "because it doesn't always have to be the same, right," he said as he pulled a small picture from his pocket.  His eyes staring for a moment at the picture before beginning again, "it's something I like to think anyway.  That's why I am here Dorian.  To offer to change something for you."

"Who are you?" Dorian asked.

"Oh, I'm just a friend...for now," the old man replied.  Dorian didn't like the way he said that.  Felt almost like a threat.

"What do you want?" 

"Are you enjoying the seasons? Enjoying your life Dorian? Autumn is my favorite time of year.  I love the smell, I love the way things die, its beauty," he said looking at Dorian as he silently sucked on his pipe.  "You don't have to think about anything right now Dorian.  Just live your life.  Enjoy it.  Enjoy it so much to the point that you are not willing to give it up.  Take it all in.  Go see your wife and daughter.  That's when I will see you again.  Goodbye Dorian," he said letting out one final small guttural chuckle before getting up and walking away.

...

That was six years ago.  And now, somehow here he was again, on the other side of some kind of portal sitting on the same bench.  

"Come over here Dorian.  I want to talk to you," the old man said as he pulled out that same red oak pipe again.

"Who are you?! What do you want?!" he said frantically.

"Just come over here.  Have a seat," he said with a sinister tone.  "And I am not asking."

Dorian walked toward the portal and stopped just before going through. He felt almost like a pull and he stepped through.  Something compelling him to walk towards the old man.  

"Let's have a talk Dorian," the old man said as he lit his pipe.

"Who are you?" he asked again.

"I think I told you I was a friend the first time.  Do you remember?"

Dorian did remember.  He could remember it all like it just happened. All the memories from that moment came flooding back to him.  What was happening?  He didn't know but he was no friend.  He felt that much.

"How is life treating you these days? Still enjoying it?" the old man asked with a sly grin.

"What the hell do you want? Why are you here?"

The old man looked at him silently with his piercing eyes before replying, "You know, death is a curious thing.  As natural to life as being born or even breathing.  But just beneath the veil, after you close your eyes for the last time and pass that last second of life, you don't see heaven or hell.  You see nothing but yourself and everything you have ever known in one blinding flash.  And then nothing.  You get to see one last glimpse of your life before leaving.  To remind you of all the things you loved, lost, enjoyed, things that made you happy.  And you know who gives you that last reminder? It's not God...it's the Devil," he said before stopping a moment to take a puff from his pipe.  "You see," he said licking his lips, "God doesn't really take part in earthly affairs.   As a matter of fact, he's left this place.  Left you.  You're all alone and I'm all that you got.  God doesn't dabble, you know.  The Devil however..." he said letting out a guttural chuckle while holding his pipe with his yellow teeth, "well, the Devil loves to dabble.  I'm here to offer you something."
Dorian interrupted him, "What? Like to sell my soul or some shit like that? Are you saying you're the Devil? Am I supposed to be terrified?" he said defiantly but somewhere inside himself his strength seemed to be faltering. 

The old man let out a full growl like laugh.  He grabbed his pipe from his mouth and said, "How's your wife?  Maria, is it? And your daughter? Teresa? Oh that's right, you were headed to the hospital to see them."

"What did you say?" Dorian said as an overwhelming fear pierced his soul.

"What does your daughter have? A rare form of cancer? Correct? And your wife is waiting at her bed side.  You were supposed to meet them but you had to take the bus.  Because you can't even afford to have a car.  You can't even afford to give your wife nice things.  That's sad Dorian.  You can't even afford to give your daughter the treatment she needs."

"Shut the fuck up!"

"Oh Dorian.  No need to get upset.  Like I said before, I'm here to make you an offer.  You may not be able to afford much with earthly currency but you do have a currency I want.  And it allows you to afford anything."

"Shut up I said!"

"Haha," the old man laughed as his brow furrowed,  "you don't really want me to stop Dorian.  I already know how this is going to end.  That's why I visited you all those years ago.  Right here in this very spot.  As a matter of fact, we are in the same moment.  You just left in that direction and I came back to sit down. To meet you again.  And now here we are, talking again."

"What do you want?" Dorian asked.

"You already know what I want.  The real question is what do you want?" he said pulling the skin of his teeth back and giving a very sinister smile. "Have you enjoyed your life? Is it enough to not want to give it up? How old is Teresa? 8 years old? Such a short time on this earth.  How about your bank account? Is it in the negatives? Your wife? Is she happy? Here, I know a little secret.  She's starting to think about what life would be like with your best friend."

"Shut up!!!" Dorian said as tears began to stream from his eyes. He didn't understand what was happening but he could feel parts of himself being stripped away.  

"I've seen how it all plays out Dorian.  I've seen what happens if you don't take my offer.  I've also seen what happens if you do.  I've seen every version of this.  I'm just an intersection.  Offering choices.  Which road to take.  There are no wrong choices Dorian.  Only ones that are better than others.  If you refuse my offer, your child will die. Your wife will leave you.  You will pull away from everyone including your best friend.  And she will too heartbroken to want to be with you.  She will find the arms of another man.  She will find your best friend.  You will have to live with those burdens.  Those thoughts.  But you can't.  You will kill yourself.  You will blow your fucking brains out," he said as he pushed Dorian's forehead with his finger. "And if you kill yourself, you will just end up in front of me again with nothing to bargain with.  I don't want that for you.  It's sad.  I've seen it.  It's pathetic.  So take my offer.  Live the life you want.  Be happy."

Dorian now had slurry of tears running down his face.  Every part of his being feeling every hurt.  Every pain.  Feeling the truth of it all.  Thinking about his daughter as she lay there slowly dying.  He fell to his knees as the swelling pressure of grief pushed out the veins in his neck.  There was no strength left.  Slobbering and crying, he looked up at the old man from the ground and asked, "What do I have to do?"
To which the old man smiled his sinister grin and replied, "Nothing."

In a blinding flash, Dorian woke up in the hospital next to his daughter's bed.  His wife on the other side asleep.  He had no memory of what happened.  No memory of the old man.  No memory of the conversations they had.  He woke up and the doctor came into the room asking to talk to him.  They both walked out into the hallway.  The doctor told him "Dorian, I have good news.  I think we beat it.  The cancer is gone.  I don't want to jump to any conclusions but I think the treatment worked."
Dorian broke down and cried and smiled, "thank you doctor! Thank you so much!" He said hugging the doctor as pure joy overtook his entire being with no memory of the old man.  No memory of their conversation. No memory of what he gave up.