Old Calvin

[Stuntcat]

Right...this is was a challenge from something else "Less then a page of descriptive prose on a person, place or thing, starting with "The last time.."

Old Calvin


The last time Old Calvin sat on his porch was three days ago. It was a sticky day, and the sweat clung to you like a second skin. A day you stayed inside in the cool house, or braved the humid heat armed with cold drinks and lazy strides. The neighbors were all stripped to the bare essentials, leaving tender skin to burn bright red in the glaring sun. But Old Calvin sat on his porch as usual, wearing his woolen slacks and starched shirt, staring intensely at those who meandered past his house.

Many people complained about his unnerving watch, but only once they were back in the safety of their air conditioned homes and away from the beady, wary eyes of the old man. Old Calvin was like a watch dog. The street was always silent as he surveyed his domain. People walked by with their heads bowed deferentially, not daring to meet his eyes. Every day, rain or shine he sat, in his old rocking chair, with his cane ahead of him. The boys who lived down the block whispered in hushed tones of his cane?s ?voodoo? powers; how if you looked him in the eyes, you?d be cursed. But who believed them anyway? They were the same boys who thought that harmless old Miss Potter kept corpses in her garden. They used their powerful imagination to create skeletons in the most innocent?s closet.

?Mister Calvin never hurt anyone,? protested the young housewife next door, ?He?s only a lonely old man.? But her eyes darted to and fro like a trapped bird as she recited a list of his virtues. She really didn?t know him that well, and was terribly frightened of him. There was something about him, something hidden in his sickly white, wrinkled skin and vulture-like eyes, although no one could place it. Something alien in the midst of their quiet community. But everyone was sufficiently scared of Old Calvin, so he was left alone in his big white house that sprawled over the muddy ground.

He sat on his porch, creaking lightly back and forth. No one ever saw him drink, eat or sleep. Just sit. He never even seemed to go into his house. People would have thought he was dead, if his gaze didn?t follow their every step so intensely. And then three days ago, he just disappeared.

It was like a cloud lifting off a gray sky. For awhile, the neighborhood seemed happier, seemed almost to bubble with every movement of the day, as people walked they chattered to themselves, talking of light things. After awhile though, the neighbors began to wonder. What had happened to Old Calvin? Had he died? And if so, how? Did he fall down the stairs? Was he pushed? Murdered? Had he left? Maybe some long-lost relatives showed up and took him away, to a place where he could police his grand-niece with that same watchful glare.

Somehow everyone knew he wouldn?t come back. Maybe it was the fact his rocking chair was gone. Or the fact that the next day, a nice man with a plastic smile came up and pressed a for sale sign in front of the creaky white house. But it might have been the peculiar feeling that came with his leaving. A sense that he had somehow said goodbye in his own way, and they had just missed it.


Right. It was weird. ^.^;;

[tornin1/2]

this was gooood, i like wierd stuff, so don't stop if you ever feel the need.
tornin1/2

[Pearldragon2662]

that is really weird. I'd be afarid too if some creepy old man was doing that and then just disappeared.