The Man with the Silver Cross.
The man sat on a bench in the park, under the shade of a tree. It was a hot day and cloudy, but there was a pleasant breeze that the birds enjoyed in their flight. The trees branches swayed rhythmically in the wind, and rustled their leaves in delight. Occasionally leaves would flutter off and float in swirling, spiralling dances to the ground where they fell. They lay strewn about him in a carpet of leaves; pink, red and brown.
The grass was green, but beginning to wither with the coming of winter. On the far side of the park the sprinklers were running to water the grass. They swayed to and fro in patterns of repetion as they watered the lawn in sprays. The man was forty, and attractive. He had a stubble beard and regal face. His clothes was of the average sort, and today he was wearing black. It was cool under the shade of the tree, with the breeze in his face.
About his neck hung a small silver cross. This was his only adornment, apart from his wristwatch which he checked from time to time, to make sure of the hour. The cross dangled about his neck and was hidden from view, underneath his shirt. He had purchased it recently, and he liked it. He felt with his hand if it was still dangling there, and smiled when it realized it was. It was a lucky charm of sorts…
A small gathering of doves pecked in a competitive way over a piece bread nearby. They wrestled among themselves, and fought for the scraps and crumbs. Then they pecked furiously away at the food again as soon as they granted each other the opportunity. So they would scuffle and bother with each other while they fed.
The park was peaceful under the cloudy sky, and here and there patches of blue shone through the expanse. The trees kept swaying in the wind with their leaves a-rustling and a-falling. The man sat in the shade on his bench and enjoyed the pleasant day, and the view…
The End.
JP Brown.
