Hopefully there's no problem with having more than one thread on here. This is where I'll be putting all my random snippets of writing that have no connection to the City, for now. Feedback is, as always, greatly appreciated. Usual warning for dreadful quality applies. Now, let's kick this off with something original, shall we?
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?Wasn't always like this. You're probably too young to remember that, though. Must be... no, no, don't tell me. Guessing is half the fun. Take those hills near where I found you, for instance. Quiet place, now; used to be swarming with bugs and all covered up with tall, bright green grass. You've seen grass, right??
Basking in the warm glow of nostalgia, alongside the somewhat more literal warm glow of the crackling fire, the hermit took a sip from the rusted iron cup in his weathered hands. The company, pleasant as it was, had made him keenly aware of the state of his home, not much more than a collection of equally rusted sheets of corrugated iron and the odd bit of leather.
On the other hand, you had to learn to make do with what you could find, nowadays. Surely his guest would understand.
?Speaking of which... that ditch you were lying in wasn't always that way either. Don't know what you were doing lying around there anyway; hiding from something, maybe? Could catch your death staying there all day, out in the cold. Nah, don't worry about explaining, none of my business anyway.?
The moon showed its face, little more than a glimpse, from between the cracks in the sheets that made up the roof. Sometimes, on the rare days when it rained, the water would come through the holes in the roof. All the better, as far as the hermit was concerned. Leave a dish out, boil it, and you had something that wouldn't quite kill you right away.
In the back of his mind, he was dimly aware that he might live long enough to regret this, but it was a fleeting concern, and never much of one at all to begin with.
?See, it used to be called Willow Creek, that ditch you found. On account of the willows. And the creek. Nice, cold stream, went there every day when I was younger. All dried up now, of course. Hm? Willows?? The hermit paused, placing a finger on his chin, thinking for a moment before he continued on.
?Give me a piece of that charcoal and I'll do my best to draw it for you. No? Well, alright, suit yourself. Short version is, it's, ah... just imagine the saddest-looking tree you can think of, and you'll be most of the way there.? A whispered question, so quiet that no one else could have possibly heard it, makes him freeze, dumbfounded. Another reminder of his age. He shakes his head sadly, muttering under his breath.
?Wh... what's a tree? What do you mean, what's a tree? I mean, sure, you don't see them much any more ? can't remember the last time ? but... can't have been that long. Listen, I'll tell you some other time. Too many questions for now. If you're staying here till you can walk again, we'll have plenty of time anyway.?
He leans over the fire, ladling some of tonight's meal ? rabbit soup, or at least as close to rabbit as could be found nowadays ? into his bowl, before offering a refill to his guest. When he meets no success, the hermit's amiable ? if not a little tired ? smile turns to a small frown.
?Got to eat, you know. It's nothing fancy, not what I'd call real food, but you're not going to get any better like that. Looking thin enough alread- alright, alright, I won't push you. No need to look at me like that, really.?
The guest was an odd one, this visitor. Quiet. Polite enough, but not the social type. Nothing wrong with that, of course. There were plenty of things to see out here that could do that to a person. Didn't know how to take care of themselves, didn't seem to know a lot of things. Plenty of time to learn. It didn't matter, anyway. Not really. Company was company, and that was already better than he had seen in far too long. He was never brought up to complain about the strange types, in any case.
With his meal finished, he sets the bowl down by the fire. His guest was starting to slump against the wall, obviously tired. There might not be a lot left out here, but you couldn't kill hospitality. It wouldn't do to just let them fall asleep there.
?I'll show you around the place tomorrow, maybe go fishing together; there's still a lake near here, more or less in one piece. No, don't worry, I'll just carry you there or something. Catch a bit of sun.? A day of blue sky and blue water, back in the days when the sky still had the common decency to stay blue. What he had to work with nowadays would have to do.
?...But that's tomorrow. Getting late, better catch some sleep while you can. Talk to you in the morning, stranger.? He never did hear the wanderer's name. It wasn't right, asking too many questions, the way things were now. Something to find out one of these days ? anyone that young had enough to deal with for now without being interrogated.
Clearing a small space at the edge of the hovel for himself, the hermit drapes a blanket, more a patchwork of leather and salvaged straw than anything proper, over the silent skeleton, before retiring for the night.
Five minutes later, the world's last living human was fast asleep.
