For Boredom's Sake: Eric's Tale - Chapter III: Return to Sender

For Boredom's Sake: Eric's Tale

Chapter III: Return to Sender
By Eric Greer


Thud.
The noise caught Sol's attention as he was leaving the room, having just sent Eric off on his mission.
"Are you kidding me?!" he exclaimed, as Eric once again stood up on the table. "You've died... already?!"
"I'm lucky the fall didn't kill me. Don't you guys know how to aim?" yelled Eric, jumping down from the table.
"You insolent worm!" The wrath in his face matched the rage in his voice. The god took Eric in one hand before jumping onto the table. Looking down, Eric watched as the center of the table fell open once more. "Get back down there!" screamed Sol.
And with that, the god threw Eric down.

"Oh, by the gods, I didn't see him! I swear!" Tears rolled down the wagon driver's face. "He came out of nowhere!"
A reasonable sized crowd had gathered round the crushed body of a naked man.
"I bet'cha this lad was drunk," said one villager.
"Aye, why else would he be runnin' 'bouts all naked like?" said another.
"An' out into the road, withou' lookin'. Aye, mus'a been drunk."
"I don' reco'nize him; mus'a been a stranger to these parts, eh?" said an elderly woman.
"Aye, poor feller. Ye should watch where yer drivin' Tom; ye can't be runnin' down tourists like this!" said the second.
Tom was now fanatical. "Oh, what have I done? The poor man!"
"Tis alrigh', Tom. Get yerself home; Ottis'll drive yer wagon back into town, an' we'll take care o' this poor feller. Don' ye fret," said the elderly woman.
Amid the commotion, no one noticed a naked man fall from the sky, landing in the far side of the lake.

"Oh, god, it's cold!" stuttered Eric, as he dragged himself out of the lake.
Looking around, he noted the season: it was now late in the year, late autumn by his reckoning. Judging by the bare state of the trees, snow would be coming soon.
Turning, he could see a gathering of people on a road across the lake. Following the road with his eyes, he spotted a small village on the hillside overlooking the lake.
Suddenly he was aware of his nakedness. "God dammit," he said, shivering. "I need clothes."
And so he made his way towards the village, running from bush to stone to tree, sneaking his way around the lake and up the hillside.

"This country is goin' t' Hell," said a farmer, watching the naked man run from cover to cover.
Shaking his head, he turned away, back to tending to his herd of sheep.

"I can't believe I killed him," cried Tom as he made his way to his village. Every time he closed his eyes he could still see the dead man, his body pinned under the wheel of his wagon. His hysterical screaming had lured most of his neighbors out of their homes, and he was still passing the odd person making their way down the hill towards the scene.
Looking back, Tom could see the crowd gathered below. He blew his nose as he arrived at his home.
He looked around. Did the man have a home? Perhaps he had had a small plot of land, much like Tom's, with a small stable and a chicken coup. A modest cottage. Did he have a family? Tom didn't have a family. Perhaps the man had had children. A wife who loved him, who would be anxiously watching for his return. A wife who would never know what happened to her husband. A wife who would grow old, alone and heartbroken.
Tom let out a wail at these thoughts as he entered his small house.

Finally, Eric reached the outskirts of the village.
Looking down the hill, he saw that the villagers were still occupied with his previous body.
He found himself behind a small cottage. He peered through one of the windows. It was a small bedroom. And he could spy clothes!
Looking around once more, he silently pried the window open, before sneakily crawling in.
He went through the drawers, pouring over their contents, picking and choosing from the shirts and pants inside until he had an outfit in front of him. After putting them on, he looked at himself in the mirror. It wasn't a very stylish affair, but it'd do, for now. At least until he reached civilization, where he would have access to a proper tailor.
Next to the mirror sat a few pairs of worn work boots.
"These will have to do," he sighed, as he picked up the least worn pair. He sat down on the bed, and, with a gawdy green shirt he had rejected, he wiped some of the caked on mud from its side.
At least they fit, he thought as he stood up. He looked about at the floor, the dresser's contents strewn across it. For a moment he felt a pang of guilt. It was only for a moment though. He was guilt free as he peered out the door. When he was sure the main house was empty, he cautiously stepped out.
He found a heavy jacket sitting on the back of a chair, sitting all lonely-like at a table. Slight pang of guilt. It was gone as he slipped it on.
Suddenly, as he was walking across the main room, he heard the front door opening.

Tom didn't know how he would sleep tonight.
He glumly pealed his coat off, throwing it onto his favorite armchair. Kneeling down in front of the hearth, he managed to coax a fire. The warmth radiated through his small house. He then walked to one of the windows, half expecting to see his neighbors working their way towards his home with his horses and wagon. But, the road was empty. They were probably still gawking at the poor man's body, sharing theories as to his origins.
He made his way to the kitchen. He paused momentarily, looking at his kitchen chair - he could have sworn he had left his other jacket hanging there last night. No matter, he thought, as he moved to the cupboard.

Eric peered around the side of a long unused desk sitting in the corner. The man was making his way to the kitchen. This was his chance! He stood up, quietly. Wait. The man had paused at the kitchen table. Had he noticed the missing jacket? No. The man was making his way to the cupboard. This was when all those years working as a cat burglar would pay off!

Tom heard a crash behind him. Looking back, bread in hand, he saw a man standing in the middle of the room, a goblet rolling around at his feet.
"What- who are-" All thought of words had left him. He had caught sight of the man's face. It couldn't be....
"This isn't what you think-" the man started.
"Ghost!" screamed Tom, hysteria in his voice, renewed tears streaming down his cheeks. "You've come to torment me! Oh, gods!"
His heart was racing.
His vision was blurring.
"Leave me be, spirit! Leave me... be..."

Eric watched as the man crumpled to the floor with a thud.
"Huh," he said to himself. "What a loon."
He made his way to the door. As he grasped the worn brass of the door knob, he hesitated for a moment. He looked back at the man, helplessly sprawled on the floor.
Quickly moving around the room, he found a bag. He began to fill it with supplies. He took the bread from the man's hand. He found some rope on a barrel next to the front door. He even found a few gold and silver coins sitting in a bowl on the kitchen table!
He then silently made his escape. He found the village outside to be completely deserted. He half considered robbing a few more houses, but, he thought he had spent too much time getting dressed: the villagers would soon be milling their way back up the hill, and he wanted to be as far away as possible when they arrived.


Copyright 2011 by Eric Greer. All rights reserved.