- THE GRAVE -

After managing to put himself together, he closed his cabin and quickly went up to town. He went to the Belir to stop them. Alleth just raised his shoulders. He had no ill will against the people opening the new inn, they’d done everything legally. Besides, he wouldn’t dare oppose the Ministret for such a minor issue. If mister Thess wanted to talk about anything else however, his door would always be open for him. He’d be by his side.

After Belir Alleth’s refusal, he threw the few saving he’d gathered away, on various doomed schemes. All in an effort to delay the inevitable catastrophe. When the Ministro came to Riviella for his annual visit to Belir Alleth, he bribed almost every guard to let him talk to him. They took his money, but never did. He went to the Temple and begged Despot Mavier to rally our town’s faithful, all to no avail.

He went to his kind, the other proper and respected members of our town. He told them about the audacity, the nerve of those people. How the new owners were willing to let anyone inside that new dirty brothel of theirs. How the Nassaryotts would be allowed to eat and drink with them. At the same table!

Nobody listened. Them and the Nassaryotts had already being drinking secretly together for years now. And if he didn’t like that “dirty brothel” that much, nobody would ever force him to go with them. And, just to get this over with, it’s not like he had any right to talk on matters of morality. Leave those for someone whose daughters hadn’t been sleeping with the leader of our town’s Cavalleria. They’d been turning a blind eye for months now! Enough was enough!

The only ones who stood by his side were some other owners of inns and wineries, afraid that this new one would take their clients away. But they were few, and quickly got bored.

He was alone. Alone, seeing them working harder and harder every day.

Cleaning up the hill. Laying down stones. Building walls. Going on and on. They were in a hurry.

A hurry to kill him off as soon as possible. Drown him with their red and blue lanterns, and their intermingling tables, and their music and dances.

A hurry to dig his grave. Dig his grave right there. In his own shore.

And just to be clear, it was now his shore. No one dared question that. It was his. All of it.

Not long after the talk with Sparrow, just like he’d planned, the Cavalleria came and arrested the old man. One could hear about it all over the town. How they’d approached the cabin silently through the night. How they’d taken him, all tied up and everything, and sent him somewhere far away, in the southeast. How he had to answer for some crimes committed back there.

Thess felt neither sad for hunting down a man who hadn’t really done anything wrong, nor happy for finally getting his cabin. As Sparrow was being taken away, he gave the cabin’s key to Crassus and begged the man to give it to him. That was it. As for the contract, he didn’t even have to pressure the Belir in order to get it. There was no need to fear the Belir giving it to someone else. No one wanted it now, with the new inn nearly complete.

At last the second cabin was finally his, and he didn’t know what to do with it. He only took the chairs and tables, and laid them over on his side. Then locked the door and left. And the cabin remained there. Closed. Sealed. Directly in front of him. Every single day. Like a grave.

All around, the shore was now full of flowers. The trees were green once again. Beautiful. Peaceful. Refreshing. The road kept coming down more and more every day. The people of our town could now easily walk down there. They would come and sit at his tables, all cheerful and kind. The hill above didn’t exist anymore. One could see the inn being furnished from down there. It was almost open. Every day they’d bring more furniture.

They finally opened it at the first day of summer, to go along with the festival.

Everyone was there.There were little flags and free drinks and musicians were playing. The tables were full. All those who couldn’t fit at the tables were standing around, a cup on their hand, enjoying the spectacle. Mister Thess was looking at them from inside his cabin. At the Belir, who was by his side for whatever he needed. At Crassus, who’d visited his house so many times and never married his daughter. At all our town’s proper and respected people, who’d always prefer his old chairs and unpainted tables after their walks. Everyone was there.

And when night finally came, and the little red and blue lanterns could finally shine, it felt like the whole world was above him, bathing the area in its magnificent light. The people were laughing and dancing all together. For a moment, just a moment, he dared to come outside. To better see them. His eyes then fell upon his tables, where no one was sitting, and he quickly turned back.

He locked himself inside the cabin, and took out all the candles. He wanted to hide inside the thickest darkness, so they couldn’t see him. He didn’t want them to see him. He didn’t want to go home either. To look his wife in the eyes. To see his children. He was terrified. So, he sat inside the cabin, in the dark. His eyes now stared at old Sparrow’s locked cabin. He sighed, and cursed the road he’d wanted so much.

Only a few customers would now come at his store, and only at nights. The new inn couldn’t provide for everyone you see, and the poorest ones wouldn’t go there often. It wasn’t a place to be unless you had, at least decent, clothes. So, they preferred the misery of mister Thess’s cabin, and mister Thess, the wattle, wasn't a stupid man. He knew those miserable ones, those too ashamed to go to the new inn, were now his people. It was from their shame and misery he had to make a living – sometimes, barely even that.

The children left. The wife never spoke to him again. He closed the confectionary. Why keep it open? He was alone now. An old man. Only now, he had nothing to wait for. Nothing to hope for. Nothing was ever going to change for him.

The old days, with Sparrow, the dirt path, and his respectable clients who would prefer and honour him, were moving now further away. Eventually they were lost, as if they’d happened a long time ago. And they’d turned, in the old man’s memory, into days of happiness.

This new reality around him had come so suddenly, so mercilessly, it made him shiver. He felt vulnerable and unprepared. All these lies… that he’d wait for the road to be finished in order to fix everything up… All of them nonsense, he never wanted it. And he now felt a deep nostalgia for those old days. Every time he remembered; he could feel his heart bleed.

Until that one morning.

He was heading down to open his cabin. And as he looked around, he suddenly saw Sparrow, quietly sitting in front of his old cabin.

He wasn’t surprised to see him; he always knew he’d come back. Nor did he felt any shame for kicking the old man out. But from inside his memory, from the old times, that nostalgic, bleeding wound – from in there, a sudden wave of happiness sprung up. It almost drowned old Thess.

Him. Only him. Old Sparrow. He was the only one he could be expecting. The only one he could want. The only one he was happy to see. To have him there, by his side. His last comfort. Something remained. Something endured from back then. From the old, happier days. Something to grab on, in this final despair.

He run to him, nearly hugged him. He wanted to call him an old friend. But he’d never been his friend and they were both old now.

“Neighbour…”

“I hope I find you well.”

He said it with such calmness, so quietly, almost like he’d never left. Like nothing happened. He got up.

“Neighbour, you’re back? How? How did all these happen?”

“How they happened… you know it better than me. No, don’t feel bad. I mean it, don’t. They took me on a nice little journey, all tied up you could say, but at least it’s over now.”

“But the crimes?”

“I left under arrest and come back a free man. I saw some old friends there, and my old spots. See? I told you not to feel bad. Some good came of it. But here, I came back here on my own. Nothing’s left for me over there. I want to die here.”

“Don’t speak of death now! Come on… let me give you your chairs…”

“You keep them. You have a family. I don’t want them anymore.”

The hope began dripping from Thess’s eyes. A faint sense of desperation grappled him.

“You won’t open your cabin?”

“NO” said old Sparrow. The foreigner.

For some time, they stayed like this, silently looking at each other.

“Perhaps you’d like? … You know, together we could…”

Sparrow shook his head.

“No” he said. “There is no cabin anymore neighbour. You destroyed it. You people always destroy everything I do. Why?”

He turned to leave. For a moment he stood, once again, like he wanted to say something. Once again, he didn’t. He lowered his head and started walking towards the boulders near the waterfall, a soft breeze messing up his snow-white hair. Old Thess didn’t move.

He just stood there. Motionless.

There is no cabin anymore neighbour! – it kept repeating in his head. You destroyed it!

The voices.

And he – he’d come here to die.

People here can only die…

He felt it. The spirit now held him well. But it wasn’t the misery or the shame that were finally about to drown him.

Old-man Thess, the wattle, felt inside him the loneliness.

The eternal loneliness of the grave.