The Dying Author

Goodbye

It was drizzling. The rain slowly making puddles across the city. The old man stared out the window. Watching the clouds swirl above him.

Sighing he reaches for his cup, hands shaking as he takes it in two hands. A single sip and the warmth spreads inside him. Pulling his blanket higher he reaches for the remote. He paused. Looking out the window tears filled his eyes.

Why was he sad? He couldn't remember. That was almost worse. Slowly he stood up. There was somewhere he needed to go. Before the end. He wasn't ready yet. But he would be. When he got there. Yet he couldn't remember where he was trying to get.

Oh well, you can't find where your trying to go without starting somewhere. Opening the door of the nursing home he stepped outside. Shuffling forward he left the nursing home and stood outside in the rain.

It was lighter now and felt like gentle brushes across his skin. He smiled. This was right. This was how he had always wanted it to be. Slow and gentle. With those who loved him by his side. His cane pressed into wet earth. The smell of the rain filled him with energy.

He took the first step. Forward he wanted down the sidewalk. This was his home. He knew that. But where was he? Looking around he went left. The grey pavement underneath his feet cracked.

Weeds growing throughout. Through the branches of the gum trees he saw the sun. Breaking through the clouds. Lighting the way. Moving forward he passed the houses one by one.

Step by step. Closer to where he's meant to go. Bellview st. The sign was tilted back to where he had come from. Back to the hating home. His lips curved into a small smile. This final adventure. He couldn't remember most of his life. But this. This would be the end.

The trees on either side curving and arching overhead. A left, a right and straight down the middle. The lights glower red. Next to the button stood a girl. She carried a bag on her back fall of books. One headphone in. She looked over at him, then quickly back down.

She turned back.
"Uhh, hi" she mumbled. "Your, your Richard Brown right?" He talk a moment to think.

"Yes" he smiled "yes that's me, how do you know?" She frowned at him. Reaching into her bag she pulled out a book. It had a soft blue cover and sleeping gold writing on to. The words. He couldn't read them. But the author, that was his name.

"Your actually my favourite author, and I wanna wondering if you could please sign some of your books for me if it's not too much trouble and I promise I won't take up to much of your time it's just their amazing and I always wanted to say I love your books and that they are amazing"

She paused, looking down she took a step back and blushed. "Sorry if that was too much you don't have to sign it if you don't want to". He smiled at her.

"Of course, my memory isn't as good as it you to be, but thank you, do you perhaps have a pen o could borrow, I don't have one on me right now". She grinned and reached inside her bag. The lights went green. She froze.

Looked up at him. Then over to the lights. He smiled at her to keep going. Picking up the pens she grabbed out three books. Handing them over to him she opened the first one.

"I absolutely love murder in the dark it was so clever and the twist and the end. It took my breath away. A trip through time was also so good. I have read it too many times to count. But my absolute favourite is violets and buttercups. It was so sweet and gentle and I really identified with the main characters". The old man looked over to her. He was starting to remember. The books yes he remembered the books.

"Thank you, I remember them now, my books, would you be able to help me. I'm lost and I need to find my way to the cemetery. Would you be able to help?" Hers eyes widened as she looked at him. His images flashed as he sighed the books one by one.

"Of course," she said "which one? Do you want to go to the one where he is buried? It's quite near here only a five minute walk" He struggles to remember. Where was it? There could be no harm in following along.

"Yes, please" he sighed "that sounds right" the lights went green again and she put the hooks back in her bag. Together they walked across the road. Him following her.

Past the cars and onto the other side of the road.

"This way" she smiled, leading him to the left, "would it be ok if...if you told me about why you wrote some of your books? I know you retired from public life a few years ago but their are people out there who still love your books and I just wanted to know some of the inspiration behind it."

He paused for a minute, the fog still held most of his memories but they were coming back.

"I still can't remember everything, but I'll tell you what I can. We'll walk this path down memory lane together eh?" Looking around he searched for a place to start. "I'd always loved murder mysteries, just the drama and suspense appealed to me. I'd always wanted to write one but it took years to get it just right, just the way I wanted it." He smiled "they all helped in one way or another, Mum, Dad, my friends." He paused.

Their was someone else. Someone he was forgetting. He looked up at the pieces of blue sky. A patchwork of clouds. The girl beside him led the way with confidence. "I just realised I don't know your name. We should be properly introduced," holding out his hand, "Richard Brown, a pleasure" smiling she shook it firmly.

"Anna Grace, the pleasure is all mine." She paused. "I was wondering... would I be able to get a photo with you. It's just that my girlfriend and I both love your books and I'd want to show her this." They stopped walking.

"Of course" he paused "I remember now, violet and buttercups, they were girlfriends, they were my friends you know" Anna began to take her phone form her bag. "They were some of the nicest people you will ever meet, we had so many laughs".

She lifted the phone and they moved closer together.
"On the three" she said, "1...2..3!" They phone clicked and the were caught in a photo. Frozen on the moment of time forever.
"Let's have looked," he chuckled "hope I didn't blink".

They shared a smile as they looked down at the photo.
"Perfect" she grinned, "were almost there". The walked in silence around the corner and into the cemetery.

"You know" started "my final book was written about someone, someone close to me. He was brilliant, absolutely wonderful. Of you met him you would understand me completely. If..." he trailed off.

Looking around he knew this place. This was a place of sadness. Maybe this was the end. Walking forward he turned the corner.

Leading the way with powerful strides. Feeling stronger then he and in a long time. Feeling young. He saw the gargoyle.

Left. right. straight. He was here, the grave in front of him was a few years old. The name still clear and bright. Thomas Andrews. He turned back to the girl.

"My husband, the last book was about my husband". His head began spin. He slowly lowered himself to the grass.

"Are you ok?" Anna asked "Richard?" He looked up at her.

"Sit by me" he whispered, struggling to breath, "I always wanted to die surrounded by those who love me. I have you and my husband that is more than I need"

"No no no no no" Anna cried "I'm going to call an ambulance, this is all my fault" The old man reached up and held her hand.

"This is not your fault, this has been the best day I have had in along time. Don't blame yourself. Just tell them, I want to be buried beside him, Tom. Just tell them that for me please."

The girl began to cry. "Goodbye Anna Davis, it has been wonderful to know you". He breathed out. Death reaches down and gathered him in his arms. Gently carrying him away.

The sun broke through the clouds. Illuminating the old mans body. Lying their along the ones who loved him.