A Man’s Trials of Being
The cobblestone pavement was dusted with colored confetti; banners hung from clothing lines draping across the town square. The children danced and played. Laughter and symphonies flooded the air with the aroma of sweet breads and savory feasts. Oblivious were they to the aged structure resting just a mile from their protection. Through the lavish forest of fruitful bushes and under arched tree roots lay a barely recognizable path leading to the rotting, mossy steps of a wooden porch graced with a verdant abundance.
Behind the rickety doors, up the stairs decorated with a moth-eaten carpet, and into the turret, a middle-aged man stood at the small window reminiscing at the memories of the festivities he participated in for years until his unjust exile had taken place decades ago…
The guards had knocked on the door to his home with solemn expressions lacing their faces, diminishing the warm, loving atmosphere and silencing the usual pleasantries and welcomes exchanged in this cottage. The man’s two rays of youthful sunshine hid behind their Mum’s skirt, their eyes widened as they stared and watched what would be imprinted in their minds and hearts. Screams and pleas fell on deaf ears as the husband and wife begged for mercy though they had not a thought for the reason behind this man being escorted out of his home, far from his family, and away from the life he had built. The young man was no criminal. He’d always gone out of his way to help anyone he encountered and his smile rarely fell. The man was raised well through beliefs of equality and respect and never had he thought of harming a woman.
Confusion and melancholy had soon transformed into disgust and hatred, for the people had nothing else to believe as they blindly followed what they had been given. He was taken to the town's courthouse; a humble yet menacing building with two mere levels towering over the threatened man nonetheless. Authorities ordered the man to keep himself silent as a young woman stepped into the room before the judge. Her slim figure seemed fragile and lost in a space filled with husky, burly men. However, it was not the sense of misplacement that was shocking, it was the feeling of familiarity he felt as they made eye contact. Her shimmering blue orbs now gazed at him with a dull flicker. Her glossy, rouge lips now pursed dryly against each other. Her silky tresses now hung in a dirty braid. And her voice, once melodious and warm, now laced with a fiery sadness.
"Your honor." she bowed her head slightly in acknowledgement.
The conversation continued and the young woman was asked questions regarding the case at hand. Voices in the courtroom faded into a slight, continuous ringing in the man's ears. He heard the cries of his wife and children as they pulled onto his shirt and grabbed at his arms. He felt bruises on his skin when he tried to grasp at the last bit of his heart until he was ripped away from the part of his life he cherished most. His values, beliefs, and soul comforted his family as they sobbed at the entrance of their broken home. The sobbing continued until it morphed into the tears of the woman in the court.
"Miss? What happened after he struck you? Miss?"
"He raped me." she whimpered before the bawls returned and her face buried itself in her red hands and deceit.
The man was forced to the outskirts of town where the soldiers instructed him to take his leave through the field and into the acres of nowhere. The mere mile he had walked seemed to take centuries as his heart refused to follow and his body was weakened by the agony he feebly bared. His shoulders fell heavily as each step pulled him down farther and captured the essence of his soul. The man’s eyes threatened to fall back as raw tears pooled down his cheeks and dripped from his jaw, the salty drop splashing onto the flowers and plants that dimmed and grew colorless and dull as an aura of suffering and distress washed over them. Despite the anguish he felt, the young man knew to keep his strength as he felt the three saddened gazes of the angels he had unwillingly left behind. When he turned back, he could see the silhouette of the several men casting accusing glares his way and a few of them protectively held their wives and daughters.
Days after his departure, a kind old recluse with a crooked walk and white, tangled hair had welcomed the exiled man into his abode. The hermit, while filled with eccentric ideas and an odd way of living, had offered all he could. The poor man was given bland plates and bowls of significantly filling soups and breads and a small bed with a musty quilt and pillow. The elderly man offered a toothy grin and a listening ear as a friendship was developed between the two.
Now, his heart fluttered as he recalled his beautiful wife sitting beside him with a small book in her hands while their children sat on the rug in front of the little fire as they played with wooden dolls. He smelled the spices of the soup they had had for dinner drifting in the air. He heard the soft melodies his daughter hummed, the rhythmic turning of pages, and the occasional crackle from the fireplace.
The man smiled and opened his eyes while they twinkled with bliss. The corners of his lips fell slightly as he looked around him at the tower interior. Although he was grateful for the hermit’s hospitality, this house could never compare to the home he had. He sighed gently and blinked his sad eyes as he walked to the bed and proceeded to lie on the mattress. He knew he’d see them again; he knew he’d come back for them. His head rested lightly on the pillow, hands on his stomach, as his eyes gently closed and his tender breaths faded away until his chest lay still and motionless while his body’s warmth grew faint until the color in his cheeks died away.