Great Wits Jump

Illustrious Illusions

4/6/2018

I stood, not moving, for in my mind I knew it was my fault that he was in this condition; I blamed myself. At the time I could have stopped him but I didn't. I was too stubborn.

Illustrious Illusions
by S. C. Gardner

Story originally written in 1977. Have made a few edits and corrections, though left the story as close to the original as possible. This represents my first attempt at a full, completed, short story.

“Mornin’ mate,” the Captain said.

“Good morning Captain,” I gave in reply as I forced the cabin door closed behind me.

“How’s the weather? T’was a rough storm last night,” he said knowingly.

“Sure was sir, but it’s calm now.” I moved towards the shutters and opened them to let the fresh salt-air rush by the Captain to brisk his bearded face. Upon turning, I noticed he was just lighting his pipe, giving it a light puff and sending a signal of smoke twirling through the air. “How is the Captain today?” I asked, proceeding to his side.

“Just fine, thanks; should be walkin’ on these old sea legs of mine any day now.”

“Sure that’s wise sir?”

“Don’t doubt me boy! I know what’s good for myself.” He turned away and focused his mind on a dimly lit lantern swinging by a rope from a thin beam above. His deepened eyes followed its every movement as it swayed to and fro, his brow frowning in concentration.

He drew his pipe once more to his quivering mouth, barely visible through a thick charcoal-colored beard, which seemed to have been pasted to his double chin. An abundance of hair flowed over his ears, while the crown of his head was partially bare. His eyes were deep, sunken in their resting place with their thin shades half drawn. One large hand limply held his prized possession, while the other lay by his side as he sat confined in his over-sized bed, his big body hidden beneath a few layers of heavily woven blankets.

I decided it was time for me to dismiss myself, so I refilled a half-empty wisky glass lying on a barren table by the Captain’s side and turned to leave. But before I could do so, a large hand grasped my thin wrist and tugged me towards the bed in which he lay.

“Mate,” he said quietly.

“Yes?” I replied with a fearful voice.

“Do you really think I’ll ever walk again?” His eyes seemed to reach out, searching for the answer they wished to view. A flicker of hope flashing across his saddened face.

I dared not answer him in fear of what my answer would be, for I was just a cabin boy and not the angel of truths, or the devil of disappointments, but just a cabin boy, full of my own dreams.

“Maybe,” I told him passively.

He held his head rigid, daring not to show his disapproval of my answer.

I stood, not moving, until my courage returned; then I scampered across the room till my hand felt the delicate design of the brass knob connected to the hardwood cabin door. Momentarily I stood motionless as my mind reversed itself, it seemed as if eyes within me began to function, replaying yesterdays past.

“Doctor,” I asked, recalling what had happened, “will he ever walk again?”

The Doc stood for a moment and rubbed his wrinkled face with his pale hand, staring at the Captain who was now fast asleep enjoying his dreams.

“Boy, let’s just say he’ll never rise from that there bed on his own pow’r,” he said pointing at him.

“But Doctor, I can’t tell him...”

“Tell him anything you damn well please, but make sure by every means possible he does not try to walk.”

“He’d rather die than be stuck in—“

“Do what I told you or he will die!” He picked up his oversized black bag and tramped out the door, but before doing so he turned and gave one last command: “He doesn’t walk.” The door slammed and he was gone.

I stood, not moving, for in my mind I knew it was my fault that he was in this condition; I blamed myself. At the time I could have stopped him but I didn’t. I was too stubborn.

My hand still lay tight around the knob as I came back from my memories. I turned the handle slowly so I would not attract the Captain’s attention, for he had dived once more into his private world on which he now relied for peace and contentment.

I made it out and was soon standing safely outside his door. ‘Face the facts,’ I told myself, ‘I must give him a definite answer. I must tell him he will never walk, instead of just a simple maybe. I must face the truth and tell him.’

My eyes became foggy as the thought of the accident flashed through my swollen mind. Once again the incident was called to my view, making me suffer that much more.

“Help me boy,” he pleaded as we came upon a downhill stairway.

“No!” I said. You can do it yourself, I thought; it’s your fault, you’re half drunk, out of your mind, sneaking too many drinks from that bottle you call your comforter. “Don’t put your burdens on me.”

He staggered towards the obstacle, trying to conjure up a way to proceed with caution. He took the first painful step as I stood rebelliously watching close by. And that’s when it happened. I saw it as if time were slowed and every little detail reached out to my memory, engraving it there forever. A foot slipped, then a leg collapsed; he tripped, stumbled, and rolled down the stairway.

I couldn’t have moved if I wanted to, for something held me back. Whether it was for my own preservation or a lofty sense of righteous justice, I could not tell. Then, after a prolonged fall, his deadly journey ended. He lay silent at the bottom of the death trap, moving nothing except my emotions, which moved me to rush down to his panting side.

“Boy,” he whispered with pain, “You’ll suffer in hell.” That’s all he spoke, but his body cried out its own painful meaning. His twisted legs called to me as if they were condemning me for their fate.

My eyes steamed and that’s all they could remember. As I stood by his door, my hand still glued to the door’s handle, my mind resumed its grasp on today’s realities.

I came to the conclusion that I would postpone telling him his life-long fate. Let him live a little longer in the desire of today’s dreams. Anyway, who am I to pull the hopes and thoughts out of someone’s life?

I released the handle, which was my last connection with that reality, then proceeded down the hall to the next.

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