The Old Man from Far Away (4)

"It's a brilliant hiding place, nobody could ever find it here.  How did you get it here?" 

The old man laughed inexplicably. "I crashed."

"You crashed? But the ship isn't broken."

"No, it was a controlled landing, the earth broke it's fall. Luckily I managed to manoeuvre it so that the door was above ground."

"Can we fly it?" my youngest asked.

"No, the ship won't fly again. We've no fuel. Plus we're six feet underground."

The ship was a living, throbbing miracle. It contained all the magical wonders of the lost civilisation, magic mirrors that showed miniature people, recordings of voices, and books, on-screen books. Not just a few pages, but full books with words whose meaning and importance are long-forgotten. 

The old man showed the children what he called 'educational programmes' on the magic mirrors, then made them read books on hand-held devices. Before we knew it the sky outside was dark and we would have to camp here the night.  Again, more magic was supplied, walls were pulled down to reveal hidden beds. 

We camped in the ship for two nights. There was so much to take in and explore. Yes, the children could learn much from the old man. None of it of any use, knowing how the world is comprised or how the universe was made is, the names of fishes and animals they will never see. But if such knowledge makes them happy why should I prevent it. 

When we got back I was expecting my wife to be angry, but she wasn't there. The village wasn't there, my ouse was burnt to the ground and there was nothing left, no sign of wife, not so much as a recognisable body. 

The village had been ravaged by the Wild Things. There were signs of a fight, a struggle, but one-sided. Houses were burned, there were dead bodies everywhere. There were no survivors.  Food and provisions had been taken by the Wild Things, but when I checked the secret hoard it was untouched, so we had food at least.

But even with food, how would we live? Two old men and four children against the world?

"We should move to my ship," the old man said. "I have things that will help and the Wild Things will never reach us there."

I wanted to bury the dead, say the ceremonies for each of them. And search for my wife. For I couldn't find her in the bodies, she must have ran away. She might still be alive. But the old man was urgent, and right to be so, the Wild Things were still around like as not. We loaded up a cart with provisions and set off.  If my wife was still alive then I had to hope that the gods would send her to me, even though the gods had done nothing to save my village. 

"This is the second time in my life I have returned from a journey to find utter destruction," the old man said.

So this was why the old man spoke of magical visits to the stars, being 5000 years old and pretending he was from here when he wasn't. They weren't his lies to us, they were his lies to himself. Something terrible had happened to his village, to his wife, his family, and he was unable to face the truth of it. 

It was time to leave, to move on, to go to somewhere safe from the Wild Things. I would never see my home again.