The Old Man! (Short Story)

in Proof of Brain โ€ข 3 years ago

Hello, all dear friends ๐Ÿ˜Š๐Ÿ™

Today I want to show you one of my short stories that have a little suspense. This is my new hobby, I recently started working on. Most of you well know me for my poetry, so thought giving short stories a try. Its beautiful weather here these days and I have ample free time, so I thought of putting my lazy brain at work. Please do support my work, it's the new adventure for me, I don't know how it will go but aprreciation from you guys will do wonders. I hope you like it.

The Old Neighbour!

smoker-798992_640.jpg source

There is the old neighbour, dragging his feet, his eyes fixed on the floor and hands in his pockets. He always walks stooped as if he took a very heavy bulge on his back. No one in my family dares to talk to him, because my grandmother used to say that if you hear a word from him, it was because you were dead. I was never afraid, but I was curious about knowing if what my grandmother said was true.

The Old Man never married, nor had children, or at least none I was known. He is an old lonely who curiously spend every morning on the front of my house. I do not know where he comes, or where he goes; It seems that he was waiting for something and as he does not arrive then he goes out to look for him.

I think my grandmother became her friend, because he was at her funeral; Very far, as if trying to hide, but nevertheless I saw it and I am sure it was him. That was the only time I saw him with his face, and he looked quite disconsolated, as if he hurt with my grandmother's death ... And if maybe they had a romance? What if maybe he is my Grandpa, because I remember, my grandfather never met him and he never found out if he had died or had abandoned her. Ay, thinking about these things make me miss my grandmother, who would say that I am dying of the same thing that she died?

Oh, here comes old man back to the place where he came out.
But that I miss! He brings his face and he is looking at me, I will have to greet him, I do not want to be misguided.

-Good afternoon, Uncle (everyone usually called him that, I don't think anyone knew his real name)
-Good afternoons friendly young ... Excuse me if I bother you but, do you know who is this woman?

He asks me, as he takes out from one of his pockets a small photograph of my grandmother, where she is pretty young.

I do not know what to do, I'm surprised and the doubts begin to emerge. I decide to open the door because I wanted to enter and be able to talk about this matter. I get up from my chair and turn towards the door. I can not open it, my hands can not take the knob. I try to call old man because I see that he is withdrawing, but he seems not to listen to me. In turn, I see my body lying on the floor, as if I was asleep.


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