Quiet Reflection

• Lachie Jordon, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2012

The man staggered through a forest, memories flashing through his head before disappearing. He tripped, defeated by a root, as a memory of a happier time flashed before his mind’s eye. He clung to this memory, dark spots floating in the vision given by his good eye. He stares dazedly at a small pond, with a hollow tree stump next to it.
There were old scars covering most of the right side of his body, with a large burn mark on his left leg. His left eye was missing, with a patch covering the hole left behind. He was wearing tattered rags for clothes, the skin showing through, pale. The man was thin, underfed, and a recent wound in his stomach leaked blood slowly, the man’s life ebbing away. Everything faded to black, and the memory overtook him.
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A boy ran through a field with his two brothers, racing to his house, to be the first served his mother’s famous blackberry pie. The farm was small, and it wasn’t long before they reached the door, and they all pushed into the kitchen, clamouring for food. The mother, hiding a smile, showed them an empty pie dish. Disappointed, the boys walked through the kitchen into the dining room, only to stop and stare at another pie, sitting in the middle of the table. Their two sisters were already eating a slice each, and the mother came through and sliced another three pieces for the boys.
After a tasty meal, the family was greeted by their father, who had been out in the fields with their uncle, finishing their work. The uncle had gone home for dinner, but the father was hungry. Luckily for them, the boys hadn’t quite eaten all of the pie, and they enjoyed a slice while two of the boys dashed upstairs to find toys to play with, while the older sat and talked with him.
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A few more memories showed themselves to the battered man as he lay there. He wondered if his family still lived. He blacked out again, his mind caressed by memories…
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The youngest boy had been hunting in the woods, squirrels mostly, to trade in town, when he first heard the screaming. He was 16 now, and knew the forest, having hunted there for years. He had never before seen anything bad enough in the forest to set someone screaming, so he was curious. Dashing through the forest, he found a family being attacked by a small leopard, which he quickly shot. The family thanked him, and after presenting some money, continued, a little shaken. A year later, they returned, and settled in the town.
The young man became good friends with their daughter, and a few years later asked her hand in marriage. They lived together many years, had a few children. They became happy.
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Smiling, the man’s mind slipped away into the soothing darkness of death, the abused body giving up, and pain no longer troubling him.