Eve Of Mystic

• George Beck, Grade 11, St Joseph School
• Short Story
• 2001

Finalist in the '2001/2002 Schools Short Story Competition - Magic and Mystery Theme' competition

The fire that danced under the bridge that evening only added to the glow of the twinkling sky. Ralph sat with his hardened back pressed up against the cold wall, holding his hands over the roaring fire. Ragged clothes and mittens provided little protection for the older man that cold night, making his heart the only keeper of warmth.
“It’s going to be another cold one, Tim,” his worn voice coughed out. Rubbing his frozen hands on the dog’s head.
“ I have some special treats for us tonight, buddy.” He smiled, with his old skin revealing its cracks. “Later on we’ll ring in the New Year in style.” Coughing, he pulled a half empty bottle of brandy from his pouch along with a beaten box of partially broken cookies.
Tim, energized by the sight of food, began to pace in the fire’s light. “I think we’ve done pretty well for ourselves this time around,” Ralph said, trying to make the best of his past time. A rustle in the nearby brush caught not only his attention, but Tim’s as well. Immediately the dog gave chase to an enemy that existed only with sound.
“Come back, boy!” Ralph pleaded in vein, watching his only friend disappear deeper into the night. Too old and tired to track him down, Ralph was left in the solitary of the rural country to face the harsh truth that he was alone.
Comfort evaded the wilderness. As the fire’s glow began to dull, Ralph sat alone with the flickering crimson, thinking of Tim. “I hope he’s enjoying himself.” He said. Throughout every twist and turn Tim had been at his side, ready to defend his friend or comfort his mind. However, time had taken the once young, agile animal and replaced it with a more fragile model.
Drinking a gulp of brandy in memory of his lost comrade, Ralph heard the bush in front of him begin to rustle. Ralph quickly stood up, cane in hand, ready to strike a blow at the animal.
A wild beast then darted from the plant, barking and whimpering as it leaped on its master. “Tim! It’s really you!” Ralph cried out, stumbling to the ground, his face being cleaned by the tongue of his dog.
“I knew you’d come back, buddy.” Rubbing his friend, Ralph reached for the box of crumbled cookies and opened it for Tim. Smiling, he slumped onto the rotting mattress. “You can enjoy ‘em Tim. I’m not hungry tonight.” Clasping his chest, Ralph covered his body with a torn curtain he had found. He drifted off to sleep, hearing a yap of thanks from Tim and the constant munching of cookies.
That morning Ralph left all of the past behind and entered a better place, one without pain and worries. As his sleep turned into silence, darkness faded away and sunlight shone upon his roughest days. He left better than most, with a friend by his side and an enduring warmth in his heart.