The Man

The itch

The itch

♤-------------♤

Itch, the itch was always there, the indescribable need to scratch at my skin unit torn away and not stop till I found my bone.  The itch was not stopped by creams or lotions, the only way to stop the itch was to give the itch to others. Even though I was the only one that could live with the itch, others that got the itch would parish. Turn into nothing more than dust, the itch was something I have tried to give others many times.  And before my eyes, they would disintegrate and turn into nothing more than a pile of ash. The transfer of the itch was painstakingly simple and all I had to do was hold something with all five of my fingers. 

Others avoided me because of the itch and would flee the area when they saw me approaching. The itch drove off everyone that cared for me, everyone that loved me.  They were all gone and only because I couldn’t contain the itch. The only one that stayed was the man in the woods, who would give his drawings and keep me protected from anyone that tried to find me.  I never actually met the man but I assumed he was very tall considering how high he would leave some of his drawing for me. 

 The man was very kind; he brought me everything I needed.  Seeds, to start a garden, tools such as a shovel and a hoe to help said garden.  He gave me this home that was well built of strong oak wood and a thick tin roof. In the winter he left me wood so my small home could h9ave warmth. He gave me gifts on my birthday and things to entertain myself with. The man was even kind enough to leave me new clothes and hygienic products whenever I needed them. Including a large amount of gauss and sanitary products for the scratches I would get when I tried to stop the itch for myself.

Recently the man has started to leave me notes, he had the most beautiful penmanship. With curvy lettering and clear words, that was unmistakable to anyone who would have the chance to read them.  I was surprised by the first note I resaved all those months ago. I found it attached to the railing of my little porch one morning going out to water my freshly planted squash. A folded piece of paper sat on the slightly rotting banister, next to it a new nail file gleaned in the early morning sun. Picking the paper up cautiously I unfolded it with my four-fingered hands and read the paper. 

𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒅, 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒎 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒏𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔.

The file was simple but a sturdy thin piece of iron. ‘He is so considerate.’ I thought to myself smiling at the gift.  And that was the beginning about once a week I would receive something from the man along with a note. Soon it was something that I would look forward to, finally having some way to know this man that had been helping me for some time. Today's gift was by far the best, the man had given me a pair of gloves that covered my pinky finger and let the others move freely. I grinned and stared off into the wood where I assumed the man came from.  Looking down at my (s/c) hands I examine the old medical tape that wrapped both my ring and my pinky finger together. As to stop from accidentally disintegrating something on accident with my carelessness. Slipping on the silk gloves, I decided that I needed to thank the man once and for all.

Grasping my slightly rusting doorknob I pulled the door open and ignoring the familiar creek of the wood I rushed inside and looked for one of the many notebooks that the man had given me in the past. I hurried to find a pencil with a sharped led, spotting one I grabbed it and sat down on the cold wooden floor.

𝓗𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓸, 𝓘 𝓬𝓪𝓷 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓮𝔁𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝔂 𝓰𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓾𝓭𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓿𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔂𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓼 𝓸𝓯  𝓵𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓹𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓮. 𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔂𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝔂 𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓷𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓸𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓼𝓮𝓵𝓯 𝓽𝓸 𝓶𝓮. 𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓶𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓫𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓶𝓾𝓬𝓱 𝓽𝓸 𝓪𝓼𝓴 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝓮, 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝔀𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓫𝓮 𝓸𝓴𝓪𝔂 𝓲𝓯 𝓘 𝓬𝓪𝓷 𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓶𝓮𝓮𝓽 𝓶𝔂 𝓼𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓸𝓻? 
𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮, (𝔂/𝓷)  

Gentling tearing the paper from the book I folded it and made my way to the porch. Where I placed the note and smiled at the seemingly endless forest.  Continuing with my daily routine I grabbed the tin bucket that sat by the side of my house and made my way to the little hot spring that was located by my home. Walking towards the smooth slippery rocks. I crouched down and dipped the lip of the bucket in the spring.  Being careful to not get my new gloves wet. Once the bucket was substantially full I made my way back to my little cabin. Making my way past the front of the house and towards its backside. Making my way down the rows of both first and vegetables having to stop and refill the bucket multiple times. I finished and placed the bucket down beside me to wipe the slight sweat I had worked up. 

As I laid on the grass staring at the clouds, imaging each as a different image or animal, before I heard the crunching and snapping of someone beyond the line of trees. I tensed, standing up quickly, there was more crunching although they became louder along with the faint sound of grunting and swearing.  Soon I spotted a figure that I thought to be around 5’6, he was leaning against the trees on the edge of the clearing. He looked at the space in awe as though it was some foreign place. We made eye contact and the look of awe quickly became a grimace on his permanently smiling face. He struggled to move forward for it was evident he was bleeding, the dark red of blood was all along the front of his white shirt, which was almost identical to the color of his skin. I quickly came to realize that the stranger was slowly making his way towards me. For the first time after the longest while I heard the voice of another human.

“Who the hell are you!?”
                     
                       ♧-------------♧