The Stranger

Gerry Grimes sat alone in the 'Lamb and Eagle' public house, his only company a double whisky. He had already downed several that night; his intention was to get very drunk. 

Tonight was a sort of celebration, it was now his 18th month of unemployment, a year and a half of futile job hunting. Every vacancy he attended he received the same replies, 'You don't have the qualifications, you don't have the job experience.' A vicious circle. 

Gerry Grimes was a Skinhead, somehow wearing the boots and the braces with the close cropped hair made him feel important, different, a somebody. 

People noticed him in the street. He saw fear in their eyes, hate and even respect. Good or bad it made him feel that he actually existed, not just another anonymous face on those grey and depressing streets. 

Over the months, without work, strong feelings had built up within him. Feelings of resentment, of uselessness, of being left on the scrapheap, one of societies forgotten. 

He genuinely yearned for work yet society had deemed it fit to ignore him. His feelings of inadequacy had changed to bitterness and from bitterness to violent aggression. If society turned its back on him then he would become apart from society. 

His Skinhead identity was his emblem of resentment. Resentment for everything he had originally wanted to become part of and now, everything he despised. 

Gerry Grimes was in a foul and aggressive mood and the alcohol that he had swallowed only fanned the flames of violence even more. 

With a stomach full of whisky and a head full of hate he left the pub. He wanted action, aggro, a fight ! Some way to let out the frustrations and the anger that had built up over the months. 

The best way to become involved in a fight he reasoned, was to start one. This he had every intention of doing. 

It was Sunday night and there were few people about the streets but then to Gerry's delight a lone figure appeared, walking towards him. 

It was a man of average height and slim build, the light from the street lamp showed him to have long dark hair and an even darker beard. Gerry could not believe his luck, a hippie ! 

'Get your hair cut, dumbo !' he hissed. The man ignored him and carried on walking. 

'Oi, scumbag ! I said get your hair cut, you moron !' 

Gerry stepped in front of the man's path, he looked into his face, his deep brown eyes. They were the softest, kindest eyes he had ever seen. 

The gentle power behind those eyes frightened and confused Gerry, he saw no fear there. 

He threw the man to the ground and from his boot he removed a vicious looking flick knife.

He advanced towards the unresisting man and slashed at his arm, as he did he slipped and fell, the point of his own evil blade penetrating his stomach. 

He could feel his lifeblood leaving him, he was terrified. 

The long haired man regained his feet, 'Don't worry' he said, 'I'll ring for an ambulance, you'll be alright.' 

Gerry Grimes could see a hazy, shadowy figure walk towards a phone box, then he passed out. 


 
He awoke to the smell of disinfectant and busy noises. 

'You were lucky,' said a voice, 'If it hadn't had been for an anonymous caller, you would be dead. But it's okay, the operation was a success.' 

It was the surgeon, 'How did it happen ?' he asked. 

'I was cleaning it and slipped.' Gerry replied. 
 
'I've heard that before,' said the surgeon, 'Still, if you don't want to press charges that's up to you. I'm only here to patch you up, not to advise the law.' 

The surgeon left the room. Gerry Grimes needed rest, he had lost a lot of blood. 

He was alone in the room and tired, very tired. He fell into a half sleep, was just about to drop off, when he heard the door quietly open. 

He looked up. It was the long haired stranger. Gerry was frightened, had he come for revenge ? 

'Why did you want to hurt me ?' the voice was calm and gentle. 

Gerry felt it difficult to speak, 'I don't know, I felt so angry, I just wanted to lash out.' 

'Never mind,' he said, touching Gerry's hand, 'the anger will pass.' 

He looked deep into Gerry's eyes. Gerry felt a sadness and a shame that he had tried to harm such a gentle and kind human being. 

'Does your wound hurt ?' he asked. 

'Yes,' replied Gerry, 'it hurts a lot.' 

The bearded man moved his hand gently across the bandage on Gerry's stomach, immediately the pain ceased. 

'With the pain I hope the anger will depart too.' He smiled at Gerry with those gentle, brown eyes. 

Gerry felt a tear trickle down his face, a tear of confusion and a tear of shame. 

Even though he had tried to harm this man, still he had shown him compassion. 

When his eyes had cleared of tears he looked around the room but the man had gone. 



'Time to change your bandages.' said the nurse as she briskly entered the room. 

She began to cut at the white cloth with a pair of scissors. 

'What ! I don't believe it ! What has happened here ? The wound has gone, it has completely healed !' 

Gerry sat up in his bed. 'I know you won't believe me but I received this wound by trying to stab another man. I slipped and fell on my own knife. It was the man who phoned you, a few minutes ago he came back, he touched my stomach and the pain stopped.' 

'Who was the man ?' implored the nurse, a look of incredulity on her face. 

'I don't know but I'll never forget his eyes, so kind, gentle and how he forgave me for the harm I tried to do him.' 

'What did he look like ?' urged the nurse. 

'He had long dark hair, a beard and soft brown eyes.' 

'Anything else ?' enquired the nurse. 

'Yes,' replied Gerry, 'I noticed he was wearing sandals and on his feet and hands were large, deep scars, it almost looked as if somebody had driven large nails through them.' 

With a clatter, the scissors fell from the nurses hand.