MadMickyG
April 25th, 2017, 03:42 AM
I almost feel I should post this in the poetry section, as it does contain a poem.
Comments and criticisms welcome. Please enjoy.
ALL IN GOOD TIME
Dale sat on the park bench quietly, although it was anything but quiet. All around him, people had gathered to celebrate the new year, the new millennium. Although the year two thousand had been celebrated as the end of the millennium, Dale knew it didn’t actually start till two thousand and one. That was tonight, in an hour or so. Dale threw breadcrumbs to the few birds that weren’t frightened off by the revelers. Swallows, more accustomed to people than other birds, hopped about happily, eating the scraps Dale threw on the ground. It never ceased to amaze Dale that birds would be around this late at night. The only thing normally found flying around at this ungodly hour was mosquitoes.
“Such an easy life for them, isn’t it,” said a voice beside him. He jumped a little, not remembering when the old man had sat down next to him. Dale flashed a weak smile.
This has to be the oldest man alive, Dale thought. He truly looked ancient, although his voice was still deep and steady.
“Sure is,” Dale replied. “Hopping around while some poor sucker throws food to you. When you’re full, you fly home and sleep. Go on holidays when the weather gets cold. Don’t have to worry ‘bout how much it costs. Come back and make a few babies in the spring. There’s no great rush, no real time limits, not like people have anyway.”
“The names Arthur Mills by the way,” the old man added, extending his hand.
“Dale Marks,” Dale replied, reaching out to accept the old man's hand. Despite the leathery texture of the his aged skin, skin that was covered in liver spots, Dale was astonished Arthur still had a strong, firm handshake. “They may not have a perfect existence, but it beats the way people live.”
“True," Arthur said, "very true. We spend our lives getting up at eight o’clock so we can start work at nine. Get a twenty minute smoko’ break, maybe an hour lunch break if you’re lucky. The banks close at four, shops close at six, supermarkets at nine. You go home and eat dinner, and then you’re in bed by nine. Try and sleep for at least eight hours, more if you’re lucky. And that’s just society’s limits!”
“I know,” said Dale, amazed at how similar Arthur's views were to his own. In his large circle of friends, Dale didn’t know anyone who shared the same philosophical views as he did. He looked at Arthur, this old man who shared his strange viewpoint on the world.
“You can’t walk till your body is ready," Dale continued, unconsciously waving his hands around as he spoke, "can’t talk for the same reason. You learn about sex, but can’t have it till your body hits puberty. Even then, your parents don’t allow you, unless you sneak it in, no pun intended. And while all this is going on, your body secretly starts a timer. You try’n find a girl to settle down with, get married. But not too early, or your parents disown you, then who baby-sits when you want to go out? Not too late, or you can’t make the babies you want. Or you can’t play games they want to, not just because you didn’t exercise enough. You get the kids out of the house when they are old enough, as long as you survive their puberty stage. Then you can retire at fifty-five if your job was good, so you can enjoy being ‘not too old’ for a while. Try to manage one last holiday before you can’t afford it. If your job was shitty, you retire at sixty-five. Then you have to decide whether to live in the house or the retirement home, whichever is the cheapest. Then sometime between retirement and whenever, you die.”
“Pointless, isn't it?” Arthur asked.
“Exactly!” Dale exclaimed. “We run around, living by time limits set by society, our parents, employers and our bodies. For what? What do we actually achieve?” Dale laughed. There was a few minutes silence before Dale spoke.
“So anyway Arthur,” Dale said, always uncomfortable with the conversational silences, ”what brings you here on this ‘festive' night’?”
“This is where I always come to bring in the new millennium,” Arthur replied. Dale gave him a funny look.
“You sound like you’ve celebrated more than one?”
“Well, there was last year,” Arthur replied, smiling and winking at Dale. Something about the way he answered made Dale think Arthur wasn’t talking about last year. Arthur reached into his pocket, pulling out a bag of breadcrumbs. The bag was identical to the bag Dale held in his own hand.
'This is getting freaky,' Dale thought to himself, slowly putting his bag of crumbs back in his pocket.
“Well, young man," Arthur groaned as he stood slowly, the sound of his bones creaking loudly in protest, "it's nearly that time, so I must be off. Before I go though, I would like to give you something.” He began checking all his pockets, looking for something.
"It's okay," Dale said, wondering why this old man he'd just met, would offer him something. He was about to decline Arthur's gift, when the old man found what he was looking for.
“Ah, here it is,” Arthur almost shouted with a smile. "I knew it was there somewhere." When he removed his hand, he held a gold pocket watch, the most beautiful one Dale had ever seen. Even in the flickering light of torches, Dale could see it was a masterpiece. Arthur held it out to him. Dale reached up to take it, but Arthur withdrew his hand a little.
“After talking with you Dale, I believe you are the right person to pass this gift on to. I hope you can achieve what I did not. More than you know is counting on you. Do you accept this gift?” Dale looked at him funny, a little unsure of whether Arthur was right in the head. All around, people starting counting down from ten, to bring in the new year.
“TEN……..”
“Do you accept?” Arthur repeated when Dale didn't answer.
“NINE…….”
“I, ah, guess so.”
“EIGHT…..”
“Don’t guess Dale, know!”
“SEVEN….”
“You’re freakin’ me out Arthur.”
“SIX……….”
"DO YOU ACCEPT THE GIFT?”
“FIVE……..”
“ALRIGHT, I ACCEPT!”
“FOUR……”
“Are you sure?”
“THREE…..”
“Yes.”
“TWO……..”
“Good. Here.”
“ONE……..”
“Thanks.”
“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” As the clock tower struck the first of twelve chimes, a shiver went through Dale's entire body, like an electric shock. At the same time, Arthur collapsed on the ground. Dale, recovering from his ‘attack’, knelt beside the elderly man. He was about to call for help when, to Dale's complete amazement, Arthur aged rapidly before his eyes, turning to dust in less than ten seconds. Dale sat down, or fell, on the grass. Arthur's clothes slowly turned to dust also. Dale stared at the pile of dust for what seemed like forever, too stunned to move.
"What? How?" he mumbled to himself, unable to comprehend what he'd just witnessed. People passed by, looking at the weirdo sitting next to a pile of fire ash. Someone asked if he was alright, bringing Dale out of his trance. "Uh, yeah, sure," Dale replied, although he wasn't sure if he was or not. He just didn’t want anyone annoying him at the moment. After some time had passed, Dale remembered the gold watch in his hand. He looked at it. It looked old, ancient in fact. He examined it, turning it over in his hand. There was an ornately carved hourglass on the front, but nothing on the back. Dale pushed the button, curious to see the inside the watch. It popped open, revealing a watch face with black Roman numerals, a light hint of silver outlining each number. The hour, minute and seconds hands were similar in colour and design to the numbers, with a decorative arrow head at the end of each hand. Inside the front cover was a picture, a bearded young man. Dale thought the image bore a striking resemblance to Arthur. A captured image from Arthur's youth perhaps. In the image, Dale could see the eyes were bright and inquisitive, the smile was infectious, causing Dale to smile as well. He rubbed the picture with his thumb absentmindedly, scarcely able to believe Arthur had ever looked that young. As he brushed the image, a powdery substance collected at the bottom of the watch cover. Dale started to rub the whole picture, realizing the face in the picture was changing, as if the image was made of dirt, caked on the inside cover. When all the powder was rubbed off, Dale stared at a picture of his own face in disbelief. It was then his mind registered the inscription above the black and white picture. His eyes opened wide in shock as he read it.
In your hand, you hold a gift, to help find the answers you ask.
But from time long past till present day, it has proved a most arduous task.
A century times ten, you will have to search, to learn the answers you seek.
So broke bones will mend, and wounds will heal, even death will last but a week.
When the time you are given, draws to an end, but you don’t have what you look for,
As the final hour comes, you can pass it on, or the quest will be yours once more.
You best not dally, or waste even a moment, for the answers you hope to find,
For in giving this gift, it’s the thought that counts, as “THERE IS NO PRESENT LIKE THE TIME!”
F.T.
Comments and criticisms welcome. Please enjoy.
ALL IN GOOD TIME
Dale sat on the park bench quietly, although it was anything but quiet. All around him, people had gathered to celebrate the new year, the new millennium. Although the year two thousand had been celebrated as the end of the millennium, Dale knew it didn’t actually start till two thousand and one. That was tonight, in an hour or so. Dale threw breadcrumbs to the few birds that weren’t frightened off by the revelers. Swallows, more accustomed to people than other birds, hopped about happily, eating the scraps Dale threw on the ground. It never ceased to amaze Dale that birds would be around this late at night. The only thing normally found flying around at this ungodly hour was mosquitoes.
“Such an easy life for them, isn’t it,” said a voice beside him. He jumped a little, not remembering when the old man had sat down next to him. Dale flashed a weak smile.
This has to be the oldest man alive, Dale thought. He truly looked ancient, although his voice was still deep and steady.
“Sure is,” Dale replied. “Hopping around while some poor sucker throws food to you. When you’re full, you fly home and sleep. Go on holidays when the weather gets cold. Don’t have to worry ‘bout how much it costs. Come back and make a few babies in the spring. There’s no great rush, no real time limits, not like people have anyway.”
“The names Arthur Mills by the way,” the old man added, extending his hand.
“Dale Marks,” Dale replied, reaching out to accept the old man's hand. Despite the leathery texture of the his aged skin, skin that was covered in liver spots, Dale was astonished Arthur still had a strong, firm handshake. “They may not have a perfect existence, but it beats the way people live.”
“True," Arthur said, "very true. We spend our lives getting up at eight o’clock so we can start work at nine. Get a twenty minute smoko’ break, maybe an hour lunch break if you’re lucky. The banks close at four, shops close at six, supermarkets at nine. You go home and eat dinner, and then you’re in bed by nine. Try and sleep for at least eight hours, more if you’re lucky. And that’s just society’s limits!”
“I know,” said Dale, amazed at how similar Arthur's views were to his own. In his large circle of friends, Dale didn’t know anyone who shared the same philosophical views as he did. He looked at Arthur, this old man who shared his strange viewpoint on the world.
“You can’t walk till your body is ready," Dale continued, unconsciously waving his hands around as he spoke, "can’t talk for the same reason. You learn about sex, but can’t have it till your body hits puberty. Even then, your parents don’t allow you, unless you sneak it in, no pun intended. And while all this is going on, your body secretly starts a timer. You try’n find a girl to settle down with, get married. But not too early, or your parents disown you, then who baby-sits when you want to go out? Not too late, or you can’t make the babies you want. Or you can’t play games they want to, not just because you didn’t exercise enough. You get the kids out of the house when they are old enough, as long as you survive their puberty stage. Then you can retire at fifty-five if your job was good, so you can enjoy being ‘not too old’ for a while. Try to manage one last holiday before you can’t afford it. If your job was shitty, you retire at sixty-five. Then you have to decide whether to live in the house or the retirement home, whichever is the cheapest. Then sometime between retirement and whenever, you die.”
“Pointless, isn't it?” Arthur asked.
“Exactly!” Dale exclaimed. “We run around, living by time limits set by society, our parents, employers and our bodies. For what? What do we actually achieve?” Dale laughed. There was a few minutes silence before Dale spoke.
“So anyway Arthur,” Dale said, always uncomfortable with the conversational silences, ”what brings you here on this ‘festive' night’?”
“This is where I always come to bring in the new millennium,” Arthur replied. Dale gave him a funny look.
“You sound like you’ve celebrated more than one?”
“Well, there was last year,” Arthur replied, smiling and winking at Dale. Something about the way he answered made Dale think Arthur wasn’t talking about last year. Arthur reached into his pocket, pulling out a bag of breadcrumbs. The bag was identical to the bag Dale held in his own hand.
'This is getting freaky,' Dale thought to himself, slowly putting his bag of crumbs back in his pocket.
“Well, young man," Arthur groaned as he stood slowly, the sound of his bones creaking loudly in protest, "it's nearly that time, so I must be off. Before I go though, I would like to give you something.” He began checking all his pockets, looking for something.
"It's okay," Dale said, wondering why this old man he'd just met, would offer him something. He was about to decline Arthur's gift, when the old man found what he was looking for.
“Ah, here it is,” Arthur almost shouted with a smile. "I knew it was there somewhere." When he removed his hand, he held a gold pocket watch, the most beautiful one Dale had ever seen. Even in the flickering light of torches, Dale could see it was a masterpiece. Arthur held it out to him. Dale reached up to take it, but Arthur withdrew his hand a little.
“After talking with you Dale, I believe you are the right person to pass this gift on to. I hope you can achieve what I did not. More than you know is counting on you. Do you accept this gift?” Dale looked at him funny, a little unsure of whether Arthur was right in the head. All around, people starting counting down from ten, to bring in the new year.
“TEN……..”
“Do you accept?” Arthur repeated when Dale didn't answer.
“NINE…….”
“I, ah, guess so.”
“EIGHT…..”
“Don’t guess Dale, know!”
“SEVEN….”
“You’re freakin’ me out Arthur.”
“SIX……….”
"DO YOU ACCEPT THE GIFT?”
“FIVE……..”
“ALRIGHT, I ACCEPT!”
“FOUR……”
“Are you sure?”
“THREE…..”
“Yes.”
“TWO……..”
“Good. Here.”
“ONE……..”
“Thanks.”
“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” As the clock tower struck the first of twelve chimes, a shiver went through Dale's entire body, like an electric shock. At the same time, Arthur collapsed on the ground. Dale, recovering from his ‘attack’, knelt beside the elderly man. He was about to call for help when, to Dale's complete amazement, Arthur aged rapidly before his eyes, turning to dust in less than ten seconds. Dale sat down, or fell, on the grass. Arthur's clothes slowly turned to dust also. Dale stared at the pile of dust for what seemed like forever, too stunned to move.
"What? How?" he mumbled to himself, unable to comprehend what he'd just witnessed. People passed by, looking at the weirdo sitting next to a pile of fire ash. Someone asked if he was alright, bringing Dale out of his trance. "Uh, yeah, sure," Dale replied, although he wasn't sure if he was or not. He just didn’t want anyone annoying him at the moment. After some time had passed, Dale remembered the gold watch in his hand. He looked at it. It looked old, ancient in fact. He examined it, turning it over in his hand. There was an ornately carved hourglass on the front, but nothing on the back. Dale pushed the button, curious to see the inside the watch. It popped open, revealing a watch face with black Roman numerals, a light hint of silver outlining each number. The hour, minute and seconds hands were similar in colour and design to the numbers, with a decorative arrow head at the end of each hand. Inside the front cover was a picture, a bearded young man. Dale thought the image bore a striking resemblance to Arthur. A captured image from Arthur's youth perhaps. In the image, Dale could see the eyes were bright and inquisitive, the smile was infectious, causing Dale to smile as well. He rubbed the picture with his thumb absentmindedly, scarcely able to believe Arthur had ever looked that young. As he brushed the image, a powdery substance collected at the bottom of the watch cover. Dale started to rub the whole picture, realizing the face in the picture was changing, as if the image was made of dirt, caked on the inside cover. When all the powder was rubbed off, Dale stared at a picture of his own face in disbelief. It was then his mind registered the inscription above the black and white picture. His eyes opened wide in shock as he read it.
In your hand, you hold a gift, to help find the answers you ask.
But from time long past till present day, it has proved a most arduous task.
A century times ten, you will have to search, to learn the answers you seek.
So broke bones will mend, and wounds will heal, even death will last but a week.
When the time you are given, draws to an end, but you don’t have what you look for,
As the final hour comes, you can pass it on, or the quest will be yours once more.
You best not dally, or waste even a moment, for the answers you hope to find,
For in giving this gift, it’s the thought that counts, as “THERE IS NO PRESENT LIKE THE TIME!”
F.T.