It was past 9. Back and forth, he still struggled to close his eyelid. Yes, the night was still young. The owl of the moon had not floating in the dark sky just yet. That’s not it. It was not the time he feared. It was the clueless night.
Trembling in his death-bed-to-be, he stared at the silent ceiling. Beautiful color translucent from the soft lamp light soared to his entire room. But all he could see just the dark spots, coming nearer, as the death angel welcomed him to His chamber. God, he prayed, but the One he called never answered. And by the name he just whispered, he only felt fear come choking.
Was it really cold the night he entered? Was everything suddenly unbecoming? Disappearing from his old eyes?
He got up. This would never be his death bed. The death angel would not flutter his wing just yet. There must be something better than this. There must be something bigger for him. It was not the night he feared. It was the darkness of the future had strayed before him. Then, after.
The night was surely still young. He saw his grandson stared deeply into the light of the stupidity. Yes, television was all the stupidity could offer. And the plague had spread into the countless brain cells of children, of teenager, of adults, of elderly.
He grunted, “young man, can’t you just play instead of putting stupid information into your poor brain?”
No answer. Kids these days, he thought, maybe lacked of everything. Lacked of manner, lacked of consciousness, lacked of passion. He trapped among them, became someone who would not know anymore what to do in life, except for satisfying his primitive needs. How sad. How infuriating.
But, he never knew what to do. Not anymore. Everything had gone. A long time ago.
Such an old poor man strayed in the entire house. Found each and every bubbles that might have been left. The bubbles of his ideas or creativity. Why did someone have it in certain time, just to be left behind with nothing?
The wrinkled hand of his stretched out. Into what? He didn’t even understand. He didn’t even know, how could he understand? The old man, by his 70’s, grabbed varied foods in front of him and munched them. He munched them, slowly but surely, until he wanted to puke. But not his mouth that felt sour. It was his eyes. Trembling, those blurry eyes started to wet.
He didn’t know what to do. No one would ever give him clue anymore. All of his life, all of the lifetime of his, filled by authorities. Told him exactly what to do. Forced him on how to do. Strangled his ideas because it would never be good enough. Because the change always feared them. So, they kicked away, far far away, every change, every renewal, every innovation.
Then, all of the information in his brain cells lost, entirely. He called them, they would never respond back. They didn’t want to befriend someone who once threw them away. How cruel a world without your true friend. The truest friend, to whom you put all of the trust in it.
He grumbled, but didn’t really know what he said. He just murmured something useless, something even more stupid than few guys dancing around meaninglessly in the television.
These days, these days he lived, he just lived. Instead of every-nothing, he lived another day. Day went by, weeks passed on, he would still be living.
Once again, he dragged his feet. To the nearest place afforded by his remaining strength. The sofa, the place where his grandson stupidly stared at the television from. At least, he could abandon the loneliness for a little while. He stared at people dancing meaninglessly at the screen. For many times he already lost counts, he just sat silently.
Then, it happened. As of sudden, his eyes turned.
His grandson, the son of his once a beloved daughter.
She left him with nothing but a burden, a huge cloud of anxiety would never be disappeared. The old man with the wrinkled face stretched his hand once again. And those slim figures felt something soft, anything of all that was smooth, and they all were warm.
The warm and smooth little guy turned his head toward him. The eyes, big and sparkled, watched him carefully. Attentively cautious and evaluated his intention. How funny, he smiled. It suddenly became bright. Everything was clear again.
No one could ever tell, force, or make him to feel anything like this.