Short Stories With Alice

The Old Man

This short story was written as part of the Nanowrino month in 2017. Inspired by a Twitter prompt featuring an image of an old man.

He felt the raindrops brush across his wrinkled skin, the old scar on the back of his left hand ache with sorrow. Slowly walking past the streets he once used to run down as a child, alone or with friends, sometimes kicking a football around. The shopkeepers would scream at them to play elsewhere. A faint church bell suddenly tolled twelve, only another twelve hours until the day would be over. There was no joy, only gasps of disappointment and handbags used as hoods to shield their faces from the storm. He remembered the old clutch handbag he had given to his lost long love, consumed by the ravages of illness that transformed the healthy body into its own enemy.

The paving tiles were loose as his thick black shoes stomped across them. All he was trying to get was a pint of milk and loaf of bread from the corner shop, something not too difficult at all. But it was, talking was hard, especially when others easily got distracted. The familiar sign advertising free wi-fi and a cash machine to make free withdrawals came into view, only just. The broken lenses from his old glasses lay forgotten on the kitchen windowsill. Entering carefully, milk bottles sat quietly in the fridge to which he disturbed the slumber by removing one. A pleasant thing in life was drinking tea, not wine or cider. That was during the long days of summer innocence as a teenager. Fresh loaves of bread neatly stacked by the tills but one wrong move could have easily knocked them off. Behind the counter stood Haley, the shopkeeper, keeping a firm eye on the CCTV cameras just to make sure everyone and everything was still safe.

He approached her with the items and then, paused, stepped back and felt his shaking hand start to twitch uncontrollably. The time had dragged on, feeling unsafe because of being outside far too long. A main recliner by the front window was calling him home. If he had wings, the journey wouldn't be so time-consuming. In a flash, the wallet crashed down onto the floor with a thud making his body jump in fear. Anything could set him off, the littlest thing. Haley quickly showed herself away from the screens and bent down to count the money in the wallet.

"You're twenty pence short my dear," she said with a normal tone, "Do you have any spare coins to complete the payment?"

The old man shrugged in anxiety, the problems with food prices and bills increasing once again caught everyone off guard. A bread loaf wasn't so cheap anymore but having no food meant another night would be spent on an empty stomach. What a nightmare.

"Doesn't matter alright?" asked Haley, "I'll cover the cost which means you have both items and you won't owe anything extra."

For once, he smiled, feeling his jaw relax into a happy position. Someone understood his pain, struggles but only for a split second. The shop door crashed open and four teens walked in, all wearing hoodies and tracksuit bottoms. Young, fast, furious and obviously looking for trouble. He needed to leave and fly away now. Gently nodding farewell, he walked out and was met by even harder raindrops falling down onto the road, outside displays and him. Alone and cold, his throat craved the warmth and relief of a hot drink. It was tempting just to stop by a local cafe and order something but just having pennies wouldn't cover the amount that a mug of tea would cost. Back home and shielding away from the outside world was the reality he lived day in, day out.

Grey clouds up above lingered like an old foe, waiting once more to pounce on its prey. Faint laughter echoed in his ears but not from friends or neighbours, evil giggles from youths close by attempting dangerous tricks on their BMX bikes. Arguing with them would have been a task to accomplish a decade ago but not bothering today was best. Thoughts heavy, he continued on past old houses with new cars on front drives, a bus speeding down the road to get to the stops in time and... someone familiar, very familiar to him. But staring across into the distance and then the rush of cold water seeping into the trousers made him think twice. Person gone, sodden as a rat, he finally reached the red front door of his sanctuary, home.