Short Story – The last of a time… (Not often I post these)!
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Short Story
The Last of a time…
Scarred, tired, worn, old. A man sat on the chair by a table, sipping from a glass of whiskey which rested by his high crowned hat that an old revolver lay beside. He was a relic, passed his time… and he let out a heavy sigh as he looked out a window towards a dock, where machinery unloaded ships that wore large heavy tubes and let out steam and smoke. Inside he felt his heart slowly breaking, so much so… that he began to remember to times long ago.
He thought back to the days of horses, the days of sand and dust… the days when you could look out for miles and miles, seeing nothing but plains of grass and not a building or man in sight… and for a brief moment he smiled… the first for many years, he thought back to the smells, the sounds and even the haunting breeze that use to blow through his hair.
‘How I wish for those days again…’
He whispered to himself, as he sipped again from his glass. He knew that those days were long gone though and that those few who hung onto them, would not be able to for long…
Suddenly there was a knock at the door.
Thud… thud… thud…
His hand went down to rest on his revolver,
‘Who’s there’
He shouted, in a very worn tone… a reply came from someone with a very heavy accent, an accent that belonged less to the south and more to those who dwelled to the north.
‘Its o’va,
There be ten of us out here!
Come out now and surrender peacefully…
We will go easy on you and no one has to get hurt’The man downed the last of his glass, he let out a breath, a long drawn breath… then whispered out loud to himself.
If there’s one thing that never does change, its people…
About time the past caught up with me anyway.He stood up slowly.
‘Lets see how this goes’
He shouted out loudly, those who lay behind the door.
He then picked up his high-crowned hat, and placed it on his head. He then took a moment, just a second… to take one last look outside the window that looked out to the dock… and in his heart, he knew what had to happen. He then turned to face the door, scarred, tired, worn, old and slowly walked towards it.
And each step he took, his mind flashed back to the days he remembered best. With a tear he shed, that dripped down his left cheek… He slowly opened the door. There was then a single noise, a loud noise…
BANG!
And with that noise a hat then fell to the floor, slowly spinning upside down to a halt… and as it stopped it was a sign, a sign that an age had finally ended.
About The Author
Matty is a 37 year old girl who is an Autistic Poet, Writer and Artist and lives alone in Christchurch New Zealand with a kitty! Matty has given many talks on autism and about being unique in a world that's often not accepting, Matty has also engaged with artist and worked on Art projects Matty usually works on an Art project at the same time as a writing one! This means posts can be a bit delayed!
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4 Responses and Counting...
You have a way with words whether it’s a short story or a poem :).
I really like this. I got very strong mental images from the words.
Hi Matty, You have an incredible gift of putting words together to create a mental image of whatever you are writing about. For what it’s worth I love your work & can definitely be said to be a fan. (one little note ‘machinary’ should be ‘machinery’)
THANK YOU!! 🙂 Nice words, I think in pictures and images, so spelling and grammar and always hard for me.
I am glad you are a fan, I didn’t know I had a fan, that’s neat! Maybe people get a good image of what I am writing about because I think in pictures so I am writing about an image. 🙂 I wonder !
But thank you for nice words, that made me very happy.