The Old Man Had Four Visitors

There was an old man. A very old man, who seemed much older than most. His skin stuck to his bones, a skeleton with skin. He moved with much effort, creaking and moaning worse than an old house. His eyes had sunken far into their sockets, bulging like a fish’s. His back was curved like a vulture. Around him was always the scent of old shaving cream and dirt that had just been rained on. The old man had lived a very long time and he had no wish to die anytime soon. When the inevitable did strike though, he wanted to die in his home, not be hooked up to a machine like a damned vegetable til kingdom come.

His days went something like this: wake up at sunrise. He wouldn’t get moving til around eight, but he would lie still in bed, watching out his large window that overlooked rolling hills of golden and forests of deep green and lakes and rivers and fields of flowers and no other human for miles. The birds would call greetings to their old friend. He always left seeds for them on the sill. If he left the window open they’d fly right in. That happened many a time, and now he didn’t seem to mind so much. He found himself leaving the window open for them more and more. He would amble his way downstairs, eat some breakfast and putter around the house till lunch. His puttering had become much more slowed in recent years. Another old man might take this to mean his time on this earth was drawing to a close, but this old man refused to believe his time was coming. When it was afternoon he’d eat lunch and then go outside til nightfall. He might just nap on the porch, or walk in the woods, or just stand really still in a clearing til the animals came right up to him. They didn’t take long to come to him, because he had lived there a very lon...

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...ecognised the being waiting for him. It was old, he knew, older than himself, older than the ancient woman, but it looked ageless. A tattered cloak covered its body. Snowflakes began to dot it like many more stars in the sky. Eyes that were deeper and darker than the night stared out at him. The old man thought he detected a trace of a smile, soft and sad, on that noble face.

“It has been far too long, hasn’t it?” The old man breathed, tears running freely now, freezing to his thin cheeks, as he crunched across the way to meet the cloaked figure in an embrace. A shudder ran through the old man's body, like a leaf twisting, and then he smiled broadly. His body fell to the ground and the cloaked being gently held his soul, like one would an injured child, and walked away. Snow continued falling from the endless sky, and before too long his body was buried beneath it.