Thirty Days Project

I went to a cafe to do a digital painting. But I soon realized that I had forgotten the cable for my tablet. So instead I wrote a short story.

STORY OF DAVID

I once knew a man who knew himself too well. Or perhaps really he knew himself quite well enough. It’s a difficult matter to say. Something akin to the torment of knowing, versus the surprise after ignorance. A strange problem found most often in people getting on with age experience I find.

In any case, I met this man after a very long hiatus of stowing myself away in a little cabin off the coast of wherever. I regret to be so vague but I wish to limit the possibility of any such person to come upon this hermitage. Despite its remoteness, it is most exactly in this area that this man happened upon me staring blankly from my porch.

As I am told later, this gentleman hailed me several Times before I was obliged to look at him. It was even a moment longer before I was aware of myself and the disturbance of my solitude. Unfortunately, I was also as one awakening prematurely from a very much needed nap, which means to say I was quite cranky. I rose my hand against the sun looking at him, and with a sour face I grabbed an empty can from the table next to me and threw it at his head.

Undaunted by the poorly aimed missile, the man continued forward, with an aggravatingly pleasant smile, and asked if I might have some water that he may drink. Comprehending this sentence seemed to finally draw me from my stupor and I recovered myself. I stood up quickly and feeling myself grievously at the disadvantage, chuckled nervously.

I asked him to pardon my behavior and without asking any more, invited him within the cabin.

We stepped in plainly, and the man politely stood just inside the doorway looking about the room. The cabin was charmingly simple, and for a coastal building, it looked remarkably out of place with its walls made of wood from the cold northern forests of the Americas, and a sturdy black stove that I testify puts out a great deal more heat than the climate in this place would possibly constitute.

I filled up a generous glass in the kitchen one room deeper. I began inquiring what my guest could be doing out this far when he suddenly asked if I had any children. Since this was out of context and I could not understand, I waited until I rejoined my guest in the front parlor to get clarification.

As I re-entered he regarded me strangely and did not accept the glass from my hand until I told him that I most certainly did not have any children. I asked why as he started to drink. Without ceasing to gulp down the liquid he gestured to the west wall.

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