The scene: high in the mountains, the woodmen's house on the plateau. Late evening. The door of the house opens and an old man emerges from it. His cloth is dirty, with the stains of oil on the trousers and blood on the sleeves of his shirt. All the cloth seems to be patched up many times, and with much greater care and gentleness than the crude thick hands of a woodman can do.
The face of the man, unshaved and dark, is distorted by rage, the emotion that, judging by the deep wrinkles furrowing cheeks and the forehead, the man is used to experience often. But this time something is different. The determinism bordering with insanity is glowing through frozen eyes. Directed far into the distance, the gaze has no mercy, no questions, no second thoughts, only the cold willingness to act.
In the dim light of an almost concluded day, a man appears as a grotesque statue, a monument of a warrior that is about to engage in a righteous but doomed battle to protect what he holds dear. Smashing the door behind himself, the woodman starts towards the old rusted car. Mad eyes are fixed on lights far down in the valley, -- the town by the river.
One thing remains alive in the house. Through the crack in the door, light is streaming on the ground. Inside the house, on the table by the window, a candle is still lit. Beside it, a letter lies. One of those that is not delivered but left by one to be found later by another. A letter that ends with the word "goodbye". A little piece of paper with very accurate writing that is reminiscent of the carefully made patches on the woodman's shirt. But now, crumbled and half-torn, the letter lies too close to the candle.
YOU ARE READING
The Orchestrated Rain
Science FictionMarcus, a small business owner, wakes up one day to find that his family has gone. A short letter says that they have left for the nearby City to start a new life. Hurt and angry, he takes off to find them and bring back his son, his successor, his...
