The Tourist (standard:fantasy, 1502 words)
Author: Andrew R	Added: Jun 17 2002	Views/Reads: 3346/2188	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
We all have a destiny, some of us just need someone else to point us in the right direction.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

changed in her.  A moment before she had a cynical look, aged beyond 
her years, now she seemed different, almost innocent and determined.  
She stood up and walked away. 

He looked at me with that sad smile again.  He left the alleyway and I
followed.  We toured through a precession of the cities tragic under 
life, junkies, hookers, rent boys, tramps, all homeless, all lost.  
Each one he came to he laid his hands on, a light passed between them 
and they walked away looking innocent yet determined.  We walked all 
day, always finding another alley, another lost soul.  The wind and 
rain had gone now, the sun was setting and we found ourselves back at 
the Cox's Arms.  The doors where shut, police tape cordoning off the 
entrance. "He must have died," I said, looking at the man.  With that 
smile, that sad, sad smile, off kilter with a chuckle, he said "I think 
you should go inside.  You have two choices now." "Two choices?" "They 
will be clear once you go inside." I walked away from him towards the 
door.  It seemed difficult to leave his presence, I don't know why.  I 
ducked under the tape and went inside.  The room was dark but I could 
see a figure sitting at the bar.  I went over to see who it was. 
"Hello?  Where is everyone?"  The man at the bar looked at me through 
the gloom.  It wasn't the landlord but he looked strangely familiar. 
"I'm sorry, do you work here?" "Yes I do.  Are you a friend of Bill, 
the landlord?" "No.  My son used to work here.  Bill's let me stay for 
a while." "What was he called, I might have met him."  Somehow I knew.  
I realised then why he was familiar.  It was that same sad expression, 
the refusal to cry with the pain evident in his eyes.  My mind was 
spinning and I began to realise why I was still feeling numb.  The man 
outside had said I had two choices, I wondered what they were.  I 
turned to go outside again, but the man at the bar spoke again. "Stay a 
while, will you?  You remind me of my son, I don't know why." 

I sat with him and drank.  He told me about his son James, who had
worked at this pub.  He had loved his job and revelled in the seedy 
atmosphere.  The man told me how worried he had been, sad that his son 
had given up university to work here after his mother had died.  He 
said that everyone had to deal with things in their own way so he 
understood really.  He didn't have anyone anymore.  He looked at me 
imploringly, and asked me to stay.  I asked him what he was going to 
do; he said he didn't know, might just carry on drinking.  I was 
beginning to see my choices; outside I could see the man still waiting. 


We talked some more and he told me about James' childhood, fitting
neatly into my own.  I knew he was my dad now, but somehow he didn't 
recognise me.  My choices were clear, stay and talk forever or go with 
the man.  He could take my pain away, send me off with an innocent yet 
determined expression or I could stay and listen to dad tearing his own 
soul apart over me. 

I decided what to do.  A benevolent look came over me, adopted from him.
 I touched my dad on the shoulders, he smiled, I smiled, a strange 
light passed between us.  Dad got up, an innocent determined expression 
on his face, and left the pub.  I followed him outside.  The man was 
waiting for me.	"You have made your decision then."  He smiled, that 
sad smile.  "I knew you were the one brave enough to join me."  He 
turned and walked down the street.  I followed on behind him, the 
numbness fading as my awareness grew.  The gloom of the city seemed to 
turn to light, warm and giving.  He was the brightest, like a flare 
ahead of me, showing me where to go. 


Tweet