I would prefer to say that the events that lead to the beginning of my new reality was fantastically absurd, just like in the movies and games. I’d like to say that it was my first day in college and that as I stepped down the stairs of my front porch and crossed the road, I was struck by a truck only to be reborn somewhere else. Or that I valiantly a took bullet for someone and was saved by an angel. Or even that a god summoned me in a time of great need. That would certainly make more sense than what actually transpired. At least it would to the version of myself, Cyrus, that vanished in a flash all that time ago. I now sit back and ponder the creation of my tale, my life’s story and yet I still think that even though I have bled more than any action movie hero, seen more crypts and tombs than any whip wielding explorer, that if I saw my life as one long movie, I would still write a critique where I’d give it 4 and half stars citing flaws in the main character. This is the story of me, Cyrus Nakano, I hope that I don’t disappoint.
The morning was cold, mist could be seen expelled by Cyrus’s breath as he strolled lazily along the well-trodden path that was carved between dew covered grass. The sun had not yet risen, leaving the only reprieve from winter’s chill being the coffee cup nestled in his palms. He wouldn’t describe himself as an early riser, quite the opposite really, as his favorite shift had just concluded only 15 minutes prior. His favorite shift being 11pm to 6am wasn’t just sarcasm either, for him, there was something hope inspiring about ending one’s day with the rising of the sun, his own little end scene every day.
He chuckled, ‘least I fit the graveyard shift aesthetic,’ as he pulled at the hem of his black hoodie, throwing back the last of his coffee, ‘Ironic, even my coffee is black.’ he winced finishing the last bitter drops. ‘Doubly so, being the epitome of doom and gloom waiting for the sun to rise.’
Ditching his cup with a little toss into the can for added style points Cyrus took the last steps to his favorite spot just up ahead. If he was asked to describe it, he would say it was sickeningly picturesque view, what with all the tall deep green trees that skirted the lake that was just long enough from the point of view of park bench to stretch just beyond the horizon. This perfect scene allowed for the illusion of the sun rising from the water to occur and something about the imagery really set Cyrus at ease. However, this time he was met with a surprise, as for once, his favorite spot wasn’t left empty.
‘Well, this is odd,’ he thought to himself, ‘who in their right mind would be awake at this hour,’ completely missing the irony of his thoughts this time.
As he approached, he noticed that the was something off about the appearance of the man sitting at the bench, not to be disrespectful but the man didn’t look like his was even able to able to stand up, let alone make the 15 minute walk to where he was now. What also seemed strange was the grey bath robe that he wore that could only be described as 5 sizes too large by the fact that it almost piled up at his feet. Cyrus’s only explanation was that the man probably had dementia and that he forgotten where he lived. How ended up here still bothered him and that didn’t explain the massive robe or how his feeble frame could even get him here.
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Sighing he decided it would probably be best to at least talk to him. It was not like he was some Good-Samaritan but if the man died because he couldn’t make it back to his home, Cyrus didn’t want to let his inaction to weigh on his conscience.
“Hey old man, you lost?” he called out, louder than he would usually, due to the fact that now that he had taken a step further, he noticed that one of the old man’s ears was missing.
“Ha, I am missing an ear, but I am not deaf boy and just because I am lost is that a necessarily a bad thing?” The old man’s voice was deep, but his old age made it rasp. “I have found that being lost is far more interesting than finding something you are looking for.”
Cyrus paused only for a moment but in his brief hesitation the old man quickly gained control of the interaction. “Come sit boy,” the old man said waving him over like he was a tourist and he had something interesting for Cyrus to goggle at. He sat, the old man looking him up and down, his eyes catching on certain aspects of him just often enough to make Cyrus uncomfortable. When the old man did speak, it wasn’t quite as oddly profoundly as before.
“Boy you look like you would fit straight in with some strange branding of death cultist, what with all the black and the hood.” He said frowning as he tried to find Cyrus’s eyes in his hood, struggling in the dim pre-dawn lighting.
Cyrus raised his eyebrow, completely missing the fact the old man couldn’t see the expression. “Bit rich from the old man who looks like he’s about to minister his own last rights.” Cyrus remarked snidly. The old man looked like he was going lash a quip back but bit his tongue glancing down at his own choice of attire, tried expression on his face.
“I suppose your right,” the old man sighed “I apologize for my rudeness, you know not me or I you, yet I judge you before you say more than asking if I am alight.”
“No,” Cyrus quickly responds before the look of sadness on the man’s face deepened, “I thought you were a dementia patient who had escaped their nursing, I should have just let you be and not judged myself.”
The old man’s expression lifted, tired smile crawling onto his face. “Its not your fault boy for asking if someone is alright, you are a good man for it,” the old man said the fire of his old timer bravado disappearing. “Let me ask you this, you are happy with your life?” he asked but quickly filled in the question with his own conclusion, “Of course you are, young, healthy, better off than I was. The real question is rather this” Pausing for effect he continued. “If you had opportunity to get lost in someplace new, would you take it?” The old man waited patiently for Cyrus’s answer.
“I suppose,” Cyrus answered unsure as to what the old man was asking, “I have traveled before, I guess it can be pretty exciting experiencing some place new.”
“You would?” The old man’s face lighting up, the faint smile lifting into to something more Genuine.
“Yeah,” Cyrus responded. Coming to the realization that the man was probably ok and that while the old man looked frial, there was definitely some vigor left in him. Cyrus went to stand and let the man enjoy the sunset in peace, he seemed like he need it more than him but just as he was about to do so, the first rays of dawn peak over the edge of lake, bringing him to a stop, the sunlight washing over the two of them.
“This is nice spot you got kid” the tone of the old man morphing from stranger to friend in a moment as the old man looked into his eyes for the first time. They sparked with comforting blue in sunlight, matching color mist evaporating from them drawing Cyrus’s own eyes from the view. Cyrus was about to ask how he knew that this was his spot but the man lay his hand on his shoulder and as the sun presented it’d full self to the world everything went white in a flash and Cyrus passed out along with it.