Disclaimer: I don't own it.
Genre: Drama
Rating: K+
Warning: AU, OC, OOCness, language, metaphors (lol).
A\N: Inspired by the nursery rhyme There Was a Crooked Man.
A very old work of mine. Made a few corrections and decided to publish it as I think it is quite suitable for the autumn but I still lost myself somewhere inside this story, orz.
Dialog
'thoughts'
Crooked Man Had A Crooked Smile
The crooked man sat at the windowsill and watched the empty street while the night passed rapidly. It was strange how a busy street could be so quiet once the sun was gone. There was a deafening silence that could make any straight man deranged. Not even a late arriving car was passing the street; no loud drunks, no arguing couples, and no dog barking. There wasn't even any mosquito to wake up any nearby sleeping soul.
The crooked man welcomed the silence. He always hated the clatters of the day. He needed a peace of mind so that he could think, reminisce silently and mentally. The crooked man didn't have much to recall, and there wasn't much he wanted to remember – only one thing; he brooded over his straight days.
The crooked man had been once a straight man just as every other man. He hadn't been happy or depressed then; his life had been simply normal. He'd striven for perfection and hadn't tolerated the awry aspects of the world. The crooked man had been completely dedicated to his straightness back then; he'd lived his life for it without sweating on as something cinch as enjoyment.
Once-the-straight man hadn't even considered enjoying his days because he had had a goal to achieve. Once the perfect, always the perfect. He had been bound to that by heart. He had thought he could always be entertained once he attained his perfection. He hadn't regarded the possibility he might have been the only perfect man and the loneliest man.
Looking back to the past, the crooked man thought how ignorant he had been. He was now thankful his plans were cut off and then demolished before he'd known and wasted his life for a nonsensical purpose. He would always be thankful to that peculiar person who'd disabused him.
He watched the streetlights lose their shine to the sun that was idly rising from its throne for its natural cause, yet even it wasn't able to parade its magnificence because of the nimbus clouds.
It was much early for the sleeping souls to come back from their deep slumber. The crooked man wanted to head to his destination before the flock was out to conquer the subway. He walked through from his rundown bedroom to his rundown main hallway. Because the first rays of sun were blocked, his flat was still dark but he knew his way around his old friend.
When a lightning flashed with a thunder following right after, a small spider with its neatly woven web was visible at the up corner. He had completely forgotten the weeny life; it was an eyesore and many found the creature disgusting. He too wasn't fancy of spiders but he didn't wish the harmless creature to disappear. It was a companion to him for the last few days. Maybe he should have gotten a tame cat instead of looking after a wild spider. But he cast the thought aside as fast as it came – cats were the friends of straight men. The spider was a mate of his. He even gave it a name; Bob. He thought that peculiar person would have liked the name he'd chosen for Bob the Spider.
The rain began to pour and he was reminded he needed to hurry. The crooked man put on his crooked spectacles and took his crooked umbrella before leaving his ramshackle flat. Jogging to the station under the heavy rain and soaking wet albeit the umbrella, the crooked man was content. The chilling wind combining with the pouring rain and accompanied with occasional lightning and thunders was the finest weather – the transition between the autumn and winter. He couldn't stand to the brightness of the spring and summer. The sun wasn't a friend of his.
The carriage was devoid of men. The ride was long but the emptiness wasn't to be disturbed despite all the stops the train passed. The crooked man rested his eyes until the train arrived to his stop. There was a crowd blocking the exit. The men rushed in like rolling billows of the rising sea. The crooked man braced and dived into the wave of men before the doors were sealed shut.
Heaving a sigh, he found his way out, back to the surface of earth. The nimbus was hiding its tears now but still facing off the sun. The wind was just as much furious, cleaning the streets off of the mob. The nature was helping the crooked man's will of avoiding the men much as possible. He couldn't be more grateful.
There might not be many men around but there was the traffic jam loud and sound. Though the crooked man didn't think much of it because he knew that through his destination, the streets would be voided of cars and life. He set to walk the rest of the way; he got a bit more road to go down, few miles out of the downtown. But that wasn't a problem because the crooked man didn't have any hurry unlike the other men.
He came across with a small flower shop on his way. There was a young, healthy man taking care of the beautiful and colorful flowers outside of the shop. He drew near to the youth and asked for lilies to buy. Young man looked at him and refused to sell; he believed the man was trouble.
The crooked man was upset because he knew the straight youth was judging his crookedness. Please, he said, I just want to buy 3 lilies. His insisting request angered the young man. He didn't want this crooked man to become a scourge for his grandmother's workplace. He was ready to get violent when an old, short woman got out of the shop. The crooked man turned his request to her. I have money. May I please buy 3 lilies?
The old woman went back inside gingerly and carefully. She didn't give an answer to him and the crooked man guessed she too didn't believe him. He was chagrined because, once again, men couldn't see past their own straight aspects. As the old woman was coming outside with a small bouquet of lilies, he was bewildered to say the least. She smiled and held out the flowers at some direction. She was blind.
The crooked man walked in front of her and took the bouquet from her quivering wrinkled hands as he grasped them. The young man instantly warned his grandmother. Granny, he yelled, don't give him anything! He is a dirty, lazy bum! She turned her head toward her grandson's voice. Don't be so harsh, son, she faced the way the crooked man was standing, he doesn't smell like you said. He is not a bad man.
The old lady's words brought a spark to the crooked man's dull eyes. Thank you, he spoke from his heart and gave her money more than the 3 lilies worth. Young man looked suspiciously to the money; he thought it was stolen or fake. But his doubt didn't touch to the crooked man's feelings this time. He was glad he met the fine lady.
He continued his way; light shine was not to be defeated by the sapless green of his eyes. He got into a grocery store that wasn't too far from the flower shop. He picked every kind of candies his peculiar person had liked. The cashier didn't remove the headphones from her ears, didn't look at him while she was bagging his purchases. She claimed the cost and the crooked man paid the amount without uttering a word.
When he exited the store, the sun was seeping from the small pores of the covered sky. He adjusted his crooked glasses and took a good eyeful of look around; the surrounding environment was greener since he was distanced from the concrete jungle of city. The nature's smell after rain was becoming stronger and lulling the crooked man to his memories. 'Have I bought too much?' he wondered. Then he decided he hadn't. His peculiar person had never known a limit eating sweets.
The crooked man had warned the person once about the sweet tooth being a danger for health. But I like them, so why should I stop eating? his peculiar person had answered. The crooked man had listened but not heard what the person had been saying then. Because he had been still a rigid straight man. His peculiar person had always been untroubled of the sharp edges of life and lived it as he had desired; no strict rules to follow, no goals to pursue. There hadn't been any boundaries limiting him to his straightness.
The crooked man remembered he had been wondering at one point if that person had really been straight or had he been crooked, like him now. But he hadn't been both. Once the straight man hadn't considered a third option nor had he known someone could choose it. When he had, the changes in him had started then; once the strict straight man had been slowly becoming crooked.
Loud sniffs cut his chain of thoughts. He looked around to find the source and saw a little child crouching at the sidewalk near to him and silently crying. He asked what was wrong. The child looked up at him with big teary eyes; he was a poor boy with a dirty face and ragged clothes. The boy didn't answer as he simply stared at the crooked man while tears rolled down on his small face.
His first thought was the child was scared of him. But then, the boy looked at the broken toy car on the ground and returned his eyes to the crooked man. He understood why the child was sad. That toy must have been the kid's treasure. The crooked man felt guilty when the tears kept pouring down on the child's face, even though he knew the reason behind the tears had got nothing to do with him. 'Children shouldn't cry silently and alone,' he thought. Would you like to come with me to buy a new one? he asked to the kid. The child looked hesitant about going off with a stranger.
The crooked man didn't want to fear the boy by persisting. He turned around and went back to the grocery store; he bought a shiny, bigger car than the kid had owned. He gave his last money in his pocket but that didn't disturb the crooked man as much as the boy's tears. When he was back to the kid's side, he saw the child had buried his face in his folded arms. 'Did he think I left him behind?' He kneeled beside the kid and nudged his thin, quivering shoulder. He held out the toy to the child. The boy's eyes widened upon seeing the man again with a toy car. The child took the car shyly; he wasn't sure if it was okay for him to have this nice toy. The crooked man patted the child's head. The simple act dissipated his hesitation and with a big smile, the kid tightly wrapped his thin arms around the man's neck.
The crooked man was surprised and the child let go of him after a while and showed his huge grin to the man as his eyes beamed at him. Then the child admired his new car while playing and laughing silently. The crooked man understood just then why the kid hadn't been talking. He was mute. It saddened him but he didn't want to ruin the child's fun by showing a sorry face. He stood up and patted the boy's head again. But before he left, the kid hugged his leg. He looked up at the crooked man and mouthed a silent Thank you.
They waved each other before the crooked man returned to his way once again. He felt pleased with himself that he brought a smile to the child's face. He wondered whether he would do the same thing or not if he still were the straight man he had been once. He couldn't be sure of the answer. He might have but he wouldn't have fully appreciated that treasury smile. Because he would have thought being pleased by it was a weakness and his goal, perfection, had tolerated none of it. Of course, for his peculiar person, having happiness from small things hadn't been a weakness.
His peculiar person had usually worn a lazy face and the crooked man had fallen for a misimpression that he had been surpassing or ignoring his feelings. But soon enough, the crooked man had seen his peculiar person's rare emotions. When he had been feeling down, he'd pouted. When he had been mischievous, his eyes had glinted in a certain way. When he had been amused, he'd laughed offhandedly. Those rare appearances of naked emotions marching on his peculiar person's face attracted him like a moth being attracted to the fire. It had burned his world but the crooked man still hadn't been able to go away.
Yellow and red leaves were lifted up in the air from the ground and danced around him as the breeze carried the delicious smell of fresh pastry. His stomach, vicious in its hunger, protested; his eyes longed at the sight of rows of breads and bagels from the shop's window but the crooked man had to settle with drinking in the smell. With a sigh, he walked in the old, heavy gates of cemetery. His feet were taking the initiative for the accustomed route. The crooked man was pleased to see the grave that his peculiar person slept underneath clean. He put the lilies in the china vase filled with wild flowers beside the tomb and placed the plastic bag in front. Then he prayed and prayed for his beloved's comfort and happiness in the place where he had gone.
Good morning, the caretaker stood by him with a bright smile. You came this year, too.
Thank you for taking care of him, the crooked man was grateful for this straight man's care of his beloved's eternal bed. Two children revealed themselves from behind their father's legs, shy at the eye contact with the crooked man. He smiled slightly as he thanked the children for the flowers. He gave them candies from the bag and watched the children's faces glow with the sweet treats. His peculiar person might have been angry with him since he hadn't liked to share. But he would have done the same because these were kind people. His peculiar person would like these men.
Here, the caretaker held a brown bag of home cook pastry, from my wife. You always give our kids something. The crooked man hesitated but his stomach growled in delight of having the delicious smell so near. Embarrassed, he took the bag from the caretaker. Thank you very much.
No need, see you next year, the man walked away with his children running in front of him. The crooked man watched and thought 'How many years has it been now?' The rays of sun fell upon him, lightened the grave and his world. He prayed the sun always shone upon this family and turned to his beloved.
I met with nice people today…