This story is by John Ford and was part of our 2024 Spring Writing Contest. You can find all the writing contest stories here.
As the old man stepped from his room, he surreptitiously pulled on the door knob to lock his door. He was dressed in what he felt was his best attire for today’s excursion. With a tartan tweed newsboy cap upon his head, he wore a patched grey cardigan sweater over a light blue button-down shirt and a pair of comfortable khaki pants.
Taking the walking cane from the crook of his arm, he turned down the hallway, quietly stepping away from the door. He stopped in his tracks as his name was called out.
“Mr. Harrington? Where are you off to today?”
It didn’t help his escape when his door was close to the attendants’ station.
Turning slightly, he grumbled, “I’m off for a walk down memory lane, and you’re not invited.”
“Come on, Mr. Harrington. You know you need to tell us when you’re heading out. We can’t be sending out another search party just because you lost your sense of time.”, the young attendant said in a sing-song tone, attempting to put him at ease.
“It’s been five years today since my Maisy passed, and she was the last woman I needed to tell my plans to.”, he snarked. Under his breath, he mumbled, “I’m not telling Nurse Hatchett where I’m going.”
By the sharp intake of breath, he could tell he might not have been quiet enough for his comment to go unheard. Hanging his head sheepishly, he added, “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
He approached the front door and said, “Don’t wait up for me, dear.”
Stepping onto the sidewalk, he took a deep breath, genuinely enjoying the crisp air of the sunny fall day. Looking back towards the entrance, he smirked as he made his escape down the path to his right.
Lost in thoughts of his past, he didn’t notice that his path had taken him to a gravel road. What brought him out of his reverie was the yelling of a young boy. Looking up, Mr. Harrington saw a lad of about eight years struggling with a wiry man. The man was attempting to take the boy’s new red rocket bike and throw it into the back of a battered old pick-up truck.
The boy was hanging off his arm sobbing, “No, no, no, you can’t have it. Give me my bike!”
Mr. Harrington lifted his cane and swung it a few times, yelling at the man to distract him from the boy. The boy, in frustration, sunk his teeth into the man’s arm. With a shout and a shake, the man threw the boy and his bike to the ground. Surprised by the boy’s fighting spirit, the man hopped into his truck and sped away, leaving the boy crying on the ground.
With soothing tones, Mr. Harrington walked up to the boy, trying to calm his crying, “Come on now, Ricky, stop your crying. What are you doing out here all by yourself?”
Sniffling, the boy started to wipe away his tears. “Momma said I should come straight home, but I wanted to go to the creek with the other boys. I nearly lost my bike. What am I going to do if Momma finds out? I’ll be in a world of hurt.”
“Ricky, you would have been in a world of hurt if that man had snatched you instead of your bike. Maybe it’s time to listen to your Momma and head home.”
Mr. Harrington waited until the young boy stopped crying and picked up his bike. He stood there a few more minutes until the youth was out of sight before starting down his path again with his mind lost in thought once more.
With another turn in the path, Mr. Harrington was brought to a county sideroad. This time, he could see a young man on his Honda CBX motorcycle pulled off the side of the road. The young man was leaning forward and chatting with a pretty young brunette standing before the bike. It was apparent that she distracted him as Mr. Harrington could see a shady character sneaking up from the trees on the other side of the road. This guy had a big rock grasped in his hand with murderous intent shining from his devious eyes.
Mr. Harrington threw up his arms, yelling at the biker to get his attention. Looking into his mirror, the young man noticed some motion behind him. Spinning with his helmet outstretched, he hit the man’s hand, and with a backwards swing, he struck him on the side of the head. Seeing the cretin go down, the young man turned back in time to see the woman reaching forward with a pocket knife outstretched in her hand. The young man knocked the knife away with a swipe of his helmet. He then pushed the girl away to get some space between them.
Realizing that their element of surprise was lost and there wouldn’t be any easy pickings, the devious couple supported each other as they ran back into the bush. The young biker was sitting there in shock as Mr. Harrington made his way up.
“Are you okay, Rick? That was a close call.”, Mr. Harrington intoned with concern.
The young man looked over his shoulder at the retreating couple. He said, “I knew it was too good to be true. Why would some hottie be out here alone and looking to chat up someone like me?”
Mr. Harrington looked at the young man and said, “It’s best to keep your wits about you, boy. Look at things with a critical eye to see what’s what.”
The young man pulled on his helmet and drove off without another word. Mr. Harrington continued on his path, returning to enjoy the fine fall day.
Further down the path, Mr. Harrington came to the side of a paved road. This time, he observed a man yelling at his car, which had been pulled off on the shoulder of the road. The hood was up, and the man was frustrated that his new Dodge Prowler was not working.
Walking up to the flashy vehicle, Mr. Harrington looked under the hood and said, “Well, Dick, it looks like you’re in a fine pickle. All the money in the world and the latest glitz and gadgets won’t get you where you need to be. It’s best to learn to be satisfied with what’s reliable. Instead, you should seek the right people to be around you. People who will care about you and help you along the way.”
Within moments, the man calmed down and pulled a cell phone from inside his car. He dialed a number, and after a few moments, he said, “Hey, Maisy? It’s Dick. Ya, you were right. The car did prove to be a dud. Can you come pick me up?”
Hearing the man’s newfound humility in his voice, Mr. Harrington decided it was time to continue on his way. Back on the path, he wandered, his mind again lost in thought.
The day had passed from morning to midday and then to evening. With the sun starting to edge towards the horizon, Mr. Harrington began to feel weary. Looking down the path, he saw a bench where he could sit and rest.
Gingerly, he sat down. His walk had taken him through many exciting events. Closing his eyes, he turned his face toward the setting sun and breathed a sigh of relief. It was a good day. One of the best he had enjoyed over the last several months.
Sitting there enjoying the warmth of the evening sun upon his face, he could hear a familiar voice calling to him. Even after five years, it still brought a smile to his face. Opening his eyes, he found that they wouldn’t focus because he was staring at the brightness of the setting sun, or maybe it was because it was the simple joy of hearing her again. He could hear her voice clearly now. She asked if he was ready to take a last walk with her. With another sigh, Mr. Harrington agreed it was time for him to go.
The door to the senior’s complex opened, and the young attendant known to Mr. Harrington as ‘Nurse Hatchett’ stepped out with two other attendants. She was expecting to have to go looking for Mr. Harrington again. To her surprise, she could see him sitting on the bench leading to the path that he liked to frequent. Well, at least the search had been brief.
She walked up to him and gently touched his shoulder, saying, “Mr. Harrington, it’s time to come in.” With her touch, he slumped forward. “Mr. Harrington?” she said in concern. “Richard? Are you okay?” Feeling for a pulse, she realized it was too late.
He had taken his final walk.
Sandra Blue says
Very well written. Surprise ending. Enjoyed the short story.
Brenda Meaney says
What a beautiful short story John and very interesting