He laid there, sprawled out on the sidewalk, watching the passing crowd look past him. He’d given up on trying to be acknowledged. At this time of day people merely stepped over him without a second glance. His goals in life were simple. Pray for someone to fill his tin can with even the smallest of donations or to wait to be arrested. At least in jail he would be out of this damned drizzle that had been falling for most of the day. Neither desire seemed to be coming true. In fact, the last person to walk by had kicked his can away from him. Of course they didn’t notice and he couldn’t muster the motivation to move and collect it. The only silver lining he could find was when a passerby got angry at their umbrella, which seemed to have opened to far, and shoved it into the trash bin across from him.
Slowly he dragged himself from the ground and made his way across the sidewalk to the trashcan. He pulled the umbrella out and opened it. Sure it was now a bit bent but he could at least keep his head somewhat covered and dry. The six o’clock crowd was clearing up, most people had made it to their evening destinations. He decided it was time to make his trek to the park and see if he might find dinner on the way. The walk was fruitful in his hunt for dinner. A half-eaten sandwich, a carnival bag of popcorn with a few kernels left. He even found an unopened bottle of water that someone must have dropped. Satisfied he turned down a side street and into the fading glow of the setting sun peeking out below the bank of clouds that were beginning to break up.
Most of the day had been clear of any sort of wind, but now a breeze was beginning to pick up adding to the chill of the drizzle. Soon enough the man would be to the park and be able to confine himself to the makeshift tent he had created. It might not be the warmest of places but he would be dry and comfortable. The breeze began to pick up causing the old man to pull his torn trench coat tighter at the collar. He held it with one hand while maintaining his grip on the umbrella. A strong gust swept past and grabbed at the umbrella trying to yank it from his grasp but he held tight. Another came and then another each getting stronger until the last took hold of the umbrella and dragged the man into a run. He tried to let go for fear of falling but found that he couldn’t. It was like the muscles in his fingers had cramped up and wouldn’t yield their hold. He ran along with the wind, trying to release his hold and stop. His feet pounded the pavement faster and faster until he felt himself being lifted upwards. Running flat footed shifted to his toes and then he was spinning his legs in the air as the wind, with the aid of the umbrella, began to lift him ever higher.
Even with this miraculous event happening he remained unnoticed by the few people running about with their head buried under their hoods and umbrellas. He wanted to reach out but was too afraid to make any effort other than to ride the wind that had him. Climbing, he crested the tops of trees amazed at how the world looked from this vantage point. Buildings reached for the sky around him and he was entertained by looking into windows, thought be beyond anyone’s vantage point. Eventually even those started to drift away beneath him as the wind took him to new heights. Fear tickled him with thoughts of falling, but his grip still held firm. He had no control at this moment and was at the mercy of whatever force was pulling him upward. A squawking caught his attention and he looked over his shoulder just in time to see a flock of geese split around him. They seemed as shocked as him that they should be meeting in this type of locale, but eventually they too disappeared beneath him.
He had quickly become used to this new vantage point of the world and figured he would be floating like this forever, but then a sound started to reach him. It was a rumble that started low and then continued to build into a steady roar. He looked all around him and then froze in fear as a jet airliner came into focus and headed directly for him. He tried as well he could to change his direction. He willed the umbrella to carry him higher and faster, but alas it was to no avail, he was moving at one speed and one speed only. As the jet neared he could feel the air around him change. It became more volatile and untrustworthy. The plane was almost to where he could touch it but then a turbulent draft caught hold and sent him and the umbrella into an uncontrolled spin upward and outward. He was being tossed around like a whirly-gig coming down from a great oak tree. His feet were beneath him and then above him. He was spinning in circles all while being jerked back and forth, and then the inevitable happened.
It was quick. The umbrella suddenly folded in the wrong direction and closed up. The shock of the sight caused the old man to release his grip, something he didn’t think was possible, and before he could think about what had just happened he was falling. Now his speed was changing, picking up faster and faster. He knew for sure that he only had moments before he became a splat on the earth below. His thoughts couldn’t go beyond that. He couldn’t yell and he could barely keep his eyes open, so he shut them. He knew it would be over soon, and then it was.
But he wasn’t dead.
Not knowing what to expect he opened only one eye to peek around. While it wasn’t the ground, he was resting on something. Slowly he opened the other eye to inspect the soft substance he landed on. It was white and solid; yet not. He pushed down in an effort to lift himself off his face. At first his hand sunk in, about an inch or so, before he was able to find the leverage to move himself into a sitting position. All around him he could see an expanse of white. He could feel the solid form supporting his weight but around him it moved like smoke rolling. As he moved his hands it would cause the smoke to lift and curl. It was as weird a sensation, sitting in a cloud, as it had been flying with an umbrella. New sounds began to drift towards him, this time from below. He could hear the din of what sounded like glasses clinking against each other and the low murmur of conversations being had. He didn’t trust his ability to peek through. He felt safe and secure where he sat but he didn’t want to chance that and definitely did not want to continue on his fall towards the ground. So he sat where he was not moving and keeping his breathing to a slow steady state.
A few feet in front of him the rolling white smoke began to churn and then lifting up from the center of it a black cylinder grew. It was about 7 inches in diameter and as it continued to rise up wool patches came into view, gracing it at odd angles. After 2 feet the brim became visible where it rested atop a head. Once the shoulders crested the rolling smoke the body stopped and turned. He was a red headed gentleman with a double handlebar mustache. The top handlebar was small and curled just under his reading glasses that slipped low on a long pointed nose. The second, lower handlebar, was large and curled downward to cover a good portion of the man’s cheeks. He smiled at the old man before greeting him in a musically tenor voice. “Hellooooo, you must be Chester. You have been expected.” Chester lifted a hand to his chest, questioning the greeting. He began to stammer. “Exp’ expected? Where am I?” The man chuckled. “You have arrived at the gentleman’s breakfast, an evetn that never ends and is forever enjoyable. Please come join us below.” Chester looked with suspicion at the man. “Gentleman’s breakfast, do you mean it is only men here?” The other’s eyes twinkled as his smile practically reached around his face. “The ladies’ tea is just off in the distance, we do gather quite often to meet and mingle, but here it is just us gents enjoying each other’s company. My name is Magnus Hawthorn and I will be your most glorious host, please let me welcome you to our gathering below.” Those were his last words before Magnus once again began to sink through the rolling smoke. As the top of his hat sunk below, Chester began to sink as well. At first the sensation startled him and he tried to keep his head above the rolling whiteness, for fear of suffocating within it, but he was quickly through. The room he entered, for that is all he could call it, was filled with men of various ages. They were lounging about in chairs of various design. Some sat at tables, some stood in groups, some seemed to be lost in their own minds. They all looked happy as they shared drinks and food. No one was concerned about the floor and walls that moved around them in a continuous roll of white smoke. Magnus took Chester by the arm and moved him further into the space. He was introduced to a variety of people, who greeted him and shook his hand, before he was offered a seat at a table. “Chester, I’d like to introduce you to Alexander and Thomas. Great thinkers of science and engineering. I think you will have wonderful conversations. If you have need of anything, please feel free to ask and I shall provide. Gentleman.” Magnus nodded to each of them and left to wander off into the crowd. Chester turned to his new companions and relaxed. Today had ended in the most perfect way and he was content to enjoy this never ending event.
K. L. Kent Author 