The Dark Man Chapter Two

Chapter Two (First read chapter one)

Pete's eyes fluttered open slowly. The darkness in his room was something that he had grown used to. The vines had overgrown and now covered almost all of the windows in his house. Pete forced himself up and sat on his bed for a moment more. He did not have the slightest idea what time it was so he grabbed his pocket watch that lay on the bedside next to him. He clicked open the gold watch and read the time. 10:05 a.m. Pete still had time to get read for the boy.

Les than two hours later he heard a knock on his front door. Pete jumped. He had not hear someone knocking on his door in a long time. He made his way to the door and it creaked open slowly with the turn of the knob. There was the boy.

"Sir?" he said and Pete smiled.

"Well, you came then. I was hoping you would."

"Yes, sir. I gave my word and I never break it once I give it," the boy nodded his head. "About the fence, I'm real sorry 'bout it. I know it was a stupid think to do. Hell, if I could do it all over again...well I wouldn't have."

"Another thing boy," Pete started. "I don't want you using any of those words 'round me. It'd be better if you wouldn’t say them at all but maybe that would be expectin' a little too much out of you."

"What words sir?" the boy asked. "Damn and hell and such?"

"Yeah, those words. They are not words a boy should say."

"I'm barely a boy sir. I'm almost thirteen," the boy argued. Pete just laughed.

"Tellin' an eighty-year-old man that twelve or thirteen is not a child is just nonsense. At your age you're practically still an infant."

"I ain't no baby!" the boy raised his voice angrily.

"Course you're not. But considering my old age, you got a long way of 'till you're a man."

"I'm not here to talk to you sir. I'm here to paint you're rickety ole fence."

"That you destroyed," Pete added.

"That I apologized for already," the boy said.

"That you're going to fix."

"That I'm going to fix," the boy smirked. "So, should I go get the supplies sir?"

"Yeah, I'm guessin' you know where they are," Pete told the boy.

"I do sir."

"And boy?" Pete stopped the boy before he left to get started on the fence.

"Huh?"

"What do people call you?"

"I don't tell people who I don't trust sir. No offense, but you could tell the town sheriff and he'll find me even better. A description is one thing sir, but a name, oh a name, is a completely different thing."

"You'll tell me in time then."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that sir," the boy said and tuned around, heading towards the fence. He paused. "Oh and by the way, the clanking sound you heard last night was a paint can and paint brush. I'm sorry 'bout that too."

"I see," Pete spoke under his breath and closed the door, allowing the boy to get to work. Pete made himself lunch and ate alone quietly. He did a lot of thinking these days and was sick of it. He tried to keep his thoughts mainly on the food he was eating. Thoughts such as, "This bread is sure good," were fine. Thoughts along the lines of, "I hope that troublemaking boy ain't ruinin' my fence anymore than he already did," were not fine. Pete started to make a list inside his head of all the good thoughts and bad thoughts. After he had done that, he pretended to destroy all of the bad thoughts and only focus on the good ones. It was an easy and pointless task that took a long time to finish.

By the time Pete was done with his meal and took a nap, he was wondering how far along the boy had gotten with fixing the fence. He stumbled over to one of the few windows that were not covered with ivy. The boy was still out there. The fence was shorter than him, so Pete could see him easily. The boy looked as though he was sweltering in the heat. He kept going back and forth, from the shed to the fence. Even though there were three cans of pain that seemed to be empty, Pete knew that the boy was only probably half was done with the fence. It had been almost five hours since the boy had started and Pete thought that it had been enough time for one day. He fixed a glass of lemonade for him and started walking outside. He grabbed his cane and slowly made his way to the boy.

When the boy saw him he stopped and wiped his forehead. "Hello sir. I'm not quite finished yet."

"I figured that that was the case. I brought you a glass of lemonade. The sun is still high in the sky and won't set for another three or four hours. I think you've done enough work for today. You can come back tomorrow. For now though, sit on down and drink your lemonade.

"Thank you sir." The boy set down the paintbrush and took the lemonade from Pete.

"Are you still convinced that you're not going to tell me your name?" Pete wondered.

"Yup," the boy said and took a taste of the lemonade. He kept a steady flow of the liquid running into his mouth and down his throat. It was like he was attached to it and had not drunk anything in days.

"What ever you say boy." Pete and the boy stood there for a moment in silence. The boy kept drinking the lemonade and Pete kept looking at the fence. The boy had done a nice job. The wet paint shimmered in the sunlight and Pete sighed. "You know, you remind me a lot of myself when I was a boy."

"The boy coked on the last bit of his drink. When he was done coughing he widened his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothin'. I was just sayin' that you remind me of myself all those years ago, that's all." The boy acted as though he did not like what Pete was saying.

"I'm nothin' like you sir. I'm never going to be known as The Dark Man or anythin' for that matter. I'm always going to be--" the boy paused, not saying his name. "Well you know, me. I'm always going to be me."

"I didn't say that you were going to be known as The Dark Man. I just said that I was like you. Don't think I was tryin' to put you down. I was like any other boy back in my day. I ran around playin' sports and such. I liked to climb trees and play with guns and so all sorts of stuff. But I hated school. I skipped it all the time, though I regret it now. You skip school boy?"

"Yeah, I skip it all right. I don't even go. It's a waste of my time and I don't like learnin'. I got better things to do."

"Like ruinin' old man's fences and then gettin' caught?" Pete wondered aloud.

""No! Like doin' better stuff. Oh I don't know. I just hate school. You hated it, so why can't I?" The boy slanted his eyebrows angrily.

"No reason in particular. We got lots in common. I hated school and I always seemed to be gettin' in some kind of trouble. I didn't always get in trouble and I didn't always skip school though. There was a time when I was a kid who was frightful of almost everythin'. Course that was before...before well, it don't really matter," Pete tried to explain.

""Before what sir?"

"I said it don't really matter," Pete paused. Then he went on, "Now, though, when I finally don't get into any trouble, everyone thinks that I hurt people. I hurt children who come up to my doorstep. I am The Dark Man. That's just too gosh darn stupid. What kind of thinkin' is that?" Pete waited for the boy to answer him.

"I don't know sir."

"Well, I'll tell you. It's no thinkin' at all. That's what it is. None at all!" Pete was furious by then. He tried calming down and getting his heart back to beating normally. It was difficult. Usually, Pete had no one to talk to and now that he finally did, he could not help but letting out some of his thoughts into words. The boy stared at Pete, unknowing of what to say. Pete finally spoke, "I'm sorry boy. I can get too worked up sometimes."

"I understand sir. I get the same way. All of the bad stuff in my life just gets me so angry and I feel like I'm going to explode. I live with my Ma and only my Ma."

"You don't got a father?" Pete asked.

"Not anymore," the boy looked down. Pete did not press the boy to answer. "I should get goin' sir. I'll come back tomorrow. Thanks for the lemonade." The boy handed the empty cup to Pete and when Pete took it in his hand, the boy left. Pete headed back inside and did his usual chores for the rest of the day. At 9:30 p.m., Pete took his walk and returned in a half an hour. He made tea for himself and after he was finished, he went to bed. Before he had fallen asleep, Pete had thought to himself. Then, on second thought, he spoke aloud.

"My life is like a schedule. Tomorrow I have to do somethin' different." On that conclusion, Pete closed his eyes and fell asleep.

(Now read chapter three!!)