The Diabolo

a/n: So this is my first story on Wattpad, hope you enjoy it!

Many years ago, in a small town in Northern Montana, there was an old miner who lived with his wife Martha and son Scotty. The old miner was a working man who had labored in the mines his whole life long. There was once a time when the older miner was a young, clean cut man whose family was always about. They would attend town festivals or city events and were beloved by many, but nowadays, knowing he is far past the prime of his life, he is complacent in retreating to his wine cellar and drinking till he forgets the good times.
One day the old miner said to his son, "C'mon Scotty, it's time to go to town and visit the marketplace"
"But Father, I'm playing with my toy," the boy replied.
"Boy I said put down that damn yo-yo, it's time to go to town!"
"Okay father."
Together the boy and his father drew a carriage and went into the city and got supplies. At the marketplace, the old miner and his son had a wonderful day. After a while, when the sun was almost setting, the old miner said to his son, "C'mon Scotty, it's time to go home."
"I'm coming father," the boy said as he hopped in the back of the carriage. On their way home, the old miner and his son saw a young man in strange clothes, clothes that seemed far too small for him, lying on the outskirts of the city. He seemed to be in pain, holding his head and sobbing loudly.
"Excuse me sir, are you okay?" the old miner asked.
The young man struggled for a minute, caught his composure, and said, "No sir, I seem to have wounded myself." He moved his hand from his head and revealed a deep wound that was bleeding profusely.
"Well is there anything that we can do to help you?"
"I- I just need some wine," the young man said.
The old miner raised a brow "Some wine?"
"Yes... all I need is some wine."
"Alright... well my son and I are riding home right now, and I have a wine cellar there. If you would like you could come home with us and I could share some of my own. I'm sure my wife wouldn't be too troubled to clean up your wound as well.
"Thank you so much sir, you are so very kind," the young man said as he joined the old miner's son in the back of the carriage.
"Hi there sir, my name's Scotty. What's yours?"
"Umm, for some reason, I can't recall... but I suppose that you can call me D"
"D?" the boy said looking puzzled.
"It stands for my most prized possession"
"What's that?" Scotty asked with intrigue.
"You already know my boy." By the time they arrived at the house the young man's wound had completely healed and there was not a single drop of blood, dry or wet, in the entire carriage. The old miner got out of the carriage, saw this, and gasped.
"Sir, were you not bleeding profusely when you first got into this carriage?"
"No sir, I don't know what you're talking about," the young man replied.
"Did you not have a deep wound on your head when we first met?" the old miner asked in bewilderment.
"Dad what are you talking about?" Scotty asked as he and D looked at the old miner confused.
"Oh never mind, perhaps I'm just tired," the old miner said as they retreated inside. As they walked through the door, they were greeted by the old miner's wife.
"Hi there boys, how was the market?" Martha asked as she walked over to her husband and kissed him.
"It was fine darling, what do you have cooking up for us?" the old miner replied.
"Oh I'm not sure yet, you've brought a stranger home have you?"
"Hello there ma'am, my name is D."
"Very nice to meet you D, my name is Martha," she replied shaking his hand.
"We met D here on the outskirts of the city, and he was looking for a drink, so we gave him a lift"
"What are you talking about dad?" Scotty asked perplexed.
"What do you mean?" the old miner said.
"Do you not remember sir? We met today in the market place, and you invited me over to your house to have a drink."
"Okay now hold on there, y'all must really take me for some kind of buffoon. Are you telling me that I did not meet you on the outskirts of the city where you were lying on the ground in pain, and where you asked me for nothing but some wine!" the old miner said growing exasperated.
"That's right sir"
"You don't remember meeting him in the market father?"
"I... Alright then... I'm sorry boys. I'm just gonna go to the wine cellar. I think I need a drink. Would you like some my friend?"
"I would love a drink," the young man said.
"Excellent," the old miner said as he turned and went to retrieve the wine.
"Anything you'd fancy eating D?" Martha asked.
"Whatever you're cooking I'm sure will be lovely," the young man replied.
"Excuse me sir?" Scotty said.
"Please my friend, call me D"
"Okay, D, umm do you like to play with toys?"
"As a matter of fact, I do."
"Well do you think I can show you my favorite toy"
"I'd love that," D replied.
"Great!" Scotty said excitedly, "I'll be right back!" The boy rushed to his room and retrieved a small toy that was comprised of two sticks, two cups, and a string that connected the cups to the sticks. "This is my diabolo! I can do really cool tricks with it." The boy began to move the sticks, spinning the string around the two cups and swinging them around in front of him in a circle.
"Wow" D said, "that's a really cool toy."
"Yeah, my mom got it from some lady in town who used to travel all over. She was lucky enough to get it real cheap even though it's pretty rare."
"And I'm sure you're very thankful for that."
"I am!" Scotty replied. "Do you wanna try?"
"Sure" D replied. Scotty gave him the diabolo, and D began to swing it around with expertise. He swung it around his head, behind his back, and between his legs, once even jumping up, throwing up both sticks, spinning, and catching them as he landed.
"Wow! You're amazing! Do you have a diabolo?" Scotty exclaimed.
"I did a long time ago, but not anymore."
"What happened to it?"
"I believe that I may have misplaced it somewhere during one of the many drunken nights of my youth."
"That's too bad," Scotty replied with a look of sympathy.
"Boy, are you bothering our guest?" the old miner asked coming into the room with the wine.
"Oh no my friend, he was merely showing me his favorite toy. No bother at all," D replied trying to diffuse the tension.
"Oh I'm sorry sir, I tried to tell my wife we should have never gotten that boy that damn yo-yo. Go put that thing away ya hear?"
"Alright father"
"I'm sorry about that sir," the old miner said.
"Oh it's quite alright, there's no need to be upset with him."
"No, the boy knows better than to disrupt and annoy my guests. Especially one that is so respectful. Now, time for the wine my friend."
"Amen to that my good sir." After a few drinks the old miner began to grow hysterical.
"You know my wife tells me that I drink far too much, but I say that the more the merrier, am I right my boy!" the old miner said as he began downing each cup more and more recklessly.
"I'd be careful with that my good sir. Too much of anything can kill you, and you'd be surprised at what the drink can do to a good man. You'd be even more surprised at what you could lose to it."
The two talked and drank and laughed and drank all night long. The old miner loved the young man's company, and even told him in a fit of drunkenness, "You my friend are welcome here anytime you want. As a matter of fact, stay here as long as you like."
"I'd love to, but I'll have to be returning to where I came from."
"And where might that be?" the old miner asked beginning to feel a bit drowsy.
"The outskirts of the city of course."
The next morning the old man awoke on the floor with stains in his shirt, a long unshaven beard, and a pounding headache. He got up and called out for his wife. "Martha! Martha honey, where are you?" he said to no answer. "Scotty...? D...? What the hell is going on?" The old miner began to look around the house to no avail. Finding nothing, he saddled up his carriage, and decided he'd make his way into town hoping that he'd find them there. It was about sunrise as he approached the outskirts of the town, and it was there that he found his son. He was lying on the ground with his hand covering his head. He wasn't breathing. The old miner went over to his son, held him in his arms, and began to cry. "Scotty..." The wound on Scotty's head was fresh, and the ground below him was flooded by a pool of blood. After sitting there for an eternity, he lifted up his son and put him in the back of the carriage. He rode home with tears in his eyes and blood on his hands and upon arrival, he went to the back of the carriage and found that his son's body wasn't there. Upon seeing that the carriage was empty, he went to his wine cellar to forget again. As he entered in, lying on the floor in the center of the cellar was his son's most prized possession, his diabolo. He went over to it, picked it up, and began to cry. The outside of one cup was cracked and stained with blood, and on the inside of each cup, he saw the letter D engraved at the bottom. It was only then that his memories came back to him, and he remembered how long it had been since he had last attended the town festivals or the city events. It was only then that he remembered having guests over to drink or going to the marketplace with his son. It was only then that he remembered how he slowly began to drink more and more just trying to have a good time. It was only then that he remembered the day that his wife made him choose between her or the drink. It was only then he remembered that he just kept drinking and the guests stopped coming. It was only then he remembered the day that in a fit of drunken rage, he took his son's most prized possession, and bashed him over the head with the cup. It was only then that he remembered the day that Scotty died.
It was only then that the old miner remembered that for the past 25 years since that day he has been wasting away in this lonely wine cellar with his son's broken diabolo. And it was only then that he realized that on this day the cellar had finally ran dry. So the old miner sat alone in that empty cellar with no more wine to drink and no more memories to forget.

- 25 years too late that the cellar ran dry