The Sin Eater
01-20-11, 10:39 AM
He elegantly stirred his tea without touching the cup; quite an impressive feat considering he was completely blind and over ninety years old. His breathing was irregular and heavy, as if every breath could be his last. Though indeed on the brink of death, the man appeared quite vital. His beard was neatly trimmed and it looked like he recently had his hair cut. His naturally neutral expression made it hard to tell what he felt or thought. His eyes told no tale either, unless one would interpret his pitch black blind eyes as a forebode of his coming end.
It was a nice tea house; very calm, very relaxing. The owner of the place, a chatty widow, had done an excellent job in creating a peaceful atmosphere. As you entered the building a soothing odor would welcome you in and almost instantly invoke a bliss like experience. Though it was only a small place – there where three tables and a few chairs – it felt as if you where in the heart of mother nature's kingdom. The few exotic plants scattered all over the place added to the effect, not to mention the wooden floor which creaked with every step as if you where in a tree house.
“Saul?” Tom asked.
The old man replied in a low, crackling voice: “Yes?”.
“Are you afraid to die?”
For a moment, the blind man hesitated but then cleared his throat. “I... don't know. My children, I will miss them.”
Ah, his children. They where the reason why the two of them had ended up here. If not for them, he wouldn't have met Saul at all. For that, he should thank them for it, though they would probably not understand.
After putting down the spoon he had stirring his tea with for the last few minutes, Saul continued: “Tom, you have seen death before, haven't you? What is it like?” The old man spoke softly, as if afraid he would fasten death's approach by mentioning it.
“I am afraid I can't help you, my friend. The dying I have seen, death itself not.”
It was the first time Thomas had called him his friend. He didn't know exactly why he said it now, but it felt as the right thing to say. He wish he could do more to help the old man, but he couldn't, there was no hope. With his powers he had obtained during his life as a priest, Tom had already taken the old man's sins upon his own already damned soul. Only one thing remained for him to do, but Tom refused to think about it.
“To my experience,” he continued, “the dying are not the ones who should worry about death. It are those left behind who have to live with the dead.”
The following painful silence made Thomas instantly regret what he had said.
“I wish... I... I am so sorry, Tom.”
He could see a tear emerging from the corner of one of his void eyes. The single tear slowly crawled its way down his cheek and into his beard where it found a steady base and rested peacefully. Tom looked away and swallowed, trying not to cry out and run away.
“I know.”
Again, the silence was almost unbearable. Why, why did the poor man have to die?!
“Tom?”
“Yes?”
“Will you take care of them, my children I mean, will you be there for them?”
“Of course.”
The owner of the place appeared from behind a door, checking if her customers had any further wishes. Though she was nice woman, she could be overly chatty. Luckily, she was sensitive enough to know that they had no interest in casual chit chat. By the creaking of the floor they could hear her coming, but both did not see her; Saul of course because he couldn't see at all, Tom because he had closed his eyes to not open the flood gates of tears burning behind them.
“Do you need anything else, gentlemen?” she asked in a tender voice.
As the two of them remained silent, she figured she had disturbed them and turned around to go back to her apartment above the tea house. After she had shut the door behind her, Tom felt some blood dripping from his lip. He had been biting on a recent wound on his lip to control his emotions. He kept biting, the pain felt good; a welcome distraction. He wanted to suffer, to physically feel the pain of his friend's impending doom. He knew it wouldn't change anything, but it would be easier to handle it if he punished himself. At least, that's what he wanted to believe.
Saul's sudden movement snapped Tom out of his dreadful daydreaming. With a slightly trembling hand the old man brought the cup to his mouth and took a small sip. He didn't tremble of age; was it fear?
“It's cold.”
He didn't know whether he meant the tea or the atmosphere, but Tom himself felt shivers going down his spine. Death is cold. But so is life.
“I wish I could have gotten to know you better, Thomas.”
“Well, if you would go to hell I could frequently visit you. But no worries, I've arranged a place for you with better accommodations.” he replied and attempted to smile until he realized it would be a wasted effort anyway.
Tom looked through the small window. It was getting darker outside, the sun had hidden behind a wall of dark clouds. The normally chirping birds had silenced and sought refuge, children where being called home by their worried mothers.
“A storm is coming, I better go. It's time.”
Saul nodded. “Take care kid. You're a good man.”
A flash shortly brightened the scene, moments later a crackling thunder tore the heavens apart. It started to rain.
Tom got up, took out his purse and placed some golden coins on the table. It was way too much for what they had ordered, but he didn't care. Slowly he put on his dark brown rain coat and moved to the exit. As he walked behind Saul's chair he stopped, hesitating.
“Tell my children I love them, Tom.”
“The already know, Saul. They love you to.”
Without any further hesitation, Thomas did what he had to do. Standing behind his blind friend he gently placed his left hand on the top right side of Saul's head and wrapped his right arm around his face grabbing the blind man's neck.
A thunder hid the snapping sound.
- - - - - -
Tom ran and ran, futilely trying to escape reality. Rain was pouring down and had turned the sandy streets into a river of mud. He fell down, covered in muck and ooze he got up again and continued running until he fell down again. He crawled towards the slight shelter of nearby tree whose roots had tackled him. Like a scared little boy he curled up against the tree's foundation.
Thomas could clearly feel the burden of the countless horrendous sins he had taken from his friend's soul and placed on his own. How could such a good man have done such horrific deeds? What is this world we live in?
He wept.
It was a nice tea house; very calm, very relaxing. The owner of the place, a chatty widow, had done an excellent job in creating a peaceful atmosphere. As you entered the building a soothing odor would welcome you in and almost instantly invoke a bliss like experience. Though it was only a small place – there where three tables and a few chairs – it felt as if you where in the heart of mother nature's kingdom. The few exotic plants scattered all over the place added to the effect, not to mention the wooden floor which creaked with every step as if you where in a tree house.
“Saul?” Tom asked.
The old man replied in a low, crackling voice: “Yes?”.
“Are you afraid to die?”
For a moment, the blind man hesitated but then cleared his throat. “I... don't know. My children, I will miss them.”
Ah, his children. They where the reason why the two of them had ended up here. If not for them, he wouldn't have met Saul at all. For that, he should thank them for it, though they would probably not understand.
After putting down the spoon he had stirring his tea with for the last few minutes, Saul continued: “Tom, you have seen death before, haven't you? What is it like?” The old man spoke softly, as if afraid he would fasten death's approach by mentioning it.
“I am afraid I can't help you, my friend. The dying I have seen, death itself not.”
It was the first time Thomas had called him his friend. He didn't know exactly why he said it now, but it felt as the right thing to say. He wish he could do more to help the old man, but he couldn't, there was no hope. With his powers he had obtained during his life as a priest, Tom had already taken the old man's sins upon his own already damned soul. Only one thing remained for him to do, but Tom refused to think about it.
“To my experience,” he continued, “the dying are not the ones who should worry about death. It are those left behind who have to live with the dead.”
The following painful silence made Thomas instantly regret what he had said.
“I wish... I... I am so sorry, Tom.”
He could see a tear emerging from the corner of one of his void eyes. The single tear slowly crawled its way down his cheek and into his beard where it found a steady base and rested peacefully. Tom looked away and swallowed, trying not to cry out and run away.
“I know.”
Again, the silence was almost unbearable. Why, why did the poor man have to die?!
“Tom?”
“Yes?”
“Will you take care of them, my children I mean, will you be there for them?”
“Of course.”
The owner of the place appeared from behind a door, checking if her customers had any further wishes. Though she was nice woman, she could be overly chatty. Luckily, she was sensitive enough to know that they had no interest in casual chit chat. By the creaking of the floor they could hear her coming, but both did not see her; Saul of course because he couldn't see at all, Tom because he had closed his eyes to not open the flood gates of tears burning behind them.
“Do you need anything else, gentlemen?” she asked in a tender voice.
As the two of them remained silent, she figured she had disturbed them and turned around to go back to her apartment above the tea house. After she had shut the door behind her, Tom felt some blood dripping from his lip. He had been biting on a recent wound on his lip to control his emotions. He kept biting, the pain felt good; a welcome distraction. He wanted to suffer, to physically feel the pain of his friend's impending doom. He knew it wouldn't change anything, but it would be easier to handle it if he punished himself. At least, that's what he wanted to believe.
Saul's sudden movement snapped Tom out of his dreadful daydreaming. With a slightly trembling hand the old man brought the cup to his mouth and took a small sip. He didn't tremble of age; was it fear?
“It's cold.”
He didn't know whether he meant the tea or the atmosphere, but Tom himself felt shivers going down his spine. Death is cold. But so is life.
“I wish I could have gotten to know you better, Thomas.”
“Well, if you would go to hell I could frequently visit you. But no worries, I've arranged a place for you with better accommodations.” he replied and attempted to smile until he realized it would be a wasted effort anyway.
Tom looked through the small window. It was getting darker outside, the sun had hidden behind a wall of dark clouds. The normally chirping birds had silenced and sought refuge, children where being called home by their worried mothers.
“A storm is coming, I better go. It's time.”
Saul nodded. “Take care kid. You're a good man.”
A flash shortly brightened the scene, moments later a crackling thunder tore the heavens apart. It started to rain.
Tom got up, took out his purse and placed some golden coins on the table. It was way too much for what they had ordered, but he didn't care. Slowly he put on his dark brown rain coat and moved to the exit. As he walked behind Saul's chair he stopped, hesitating.
“Tell my children I love them, Tom.”
“The already know, Saul. They love you to.”
Without any further hesitation, Thomas did what he had to do. Standing behind his blind friend he gently placed his left hand on the top right side of Saul's head and wrapped his right arm around his face grabbing the blind man's neck.
A thunder hid the snapping sound.
- - - - - -
Tom ran and ran, futilely trying to escape reality. Rain was pouring down and had turned the sandy streets into a river of mud. He fell down, covered in muck and ooze he got up again and continued running until he fell down again. He crawled towards the slight shelter of nearby tree whose roots had tackled him. Like a scared little boy he curled up against the tree's foundation.
Thomas could clearly feel the burden of the countless horrendous sins he had taken from his friend's soul and placed on his own. How could such a good man have done such horrific deeds? What is this world we live in?
He wept.