This is a continuation of a submission for the 750 word contest. All those who commented thanks for your words and hope this lives up to the expectations... not much erotic in this build-up but juicy bits to come.
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Mark kicked a pebble as he approached the entrance to the park, he kicked it pretty hard thinking whose going to be around at this time and day especially in this murky weather. The rusted hinges on the gate creaked as he pushed against the same to enter into the park. Head down, lost in his own world, wondering whether life was worth living, millionaire times over, so what? Was that what life was all about?
He stumbled onto the bench having reached it mechanically and found himself stumbling onto the same without thought of what lay on the bench. Suddenly he found himself jumping of the bench in surprise as something slithered of from the other end possibly equally in shock and Mark could not help but shudder at the sight of the snake disappearing into a nearby bush having been displaced from inside an old discarded paper bag that sat exactly where his small butt had landed. Tears welled up in his eyes as he thought what just rewards the day was heaping on him, indeed, a snake in his little Eden was just the icing on the cake. Snake indeed, Simon, the brother or rather so called brother who had crawled into his little perfect world and made him look like a fool.
His thoughts jumbled, Mark brushed off the discarded bag and sat back on the bench, a wary eye on the bush with the snake, well, couldn't see much with the gloomy weather or was it the tears that threatened to tumble down his cheeks if left unchecked. Just as he started trying to make sense of everything a pebble landed smack in the middle of his head and once more Mark found himself jumping up in surprise, pain and anger as his hand lifted to where the pebble had hit, turning to find the source of his torment. His eyes fell on someone in a dark cloak, features blurred by the tears still smarting his eyes.
"Well, guess we're even" said the cloaked figure in a gruff voice, "you should look before you kick pebbles all over the place, never know what you might injure with your reckless behavior". Mark couldn't understand what the figure eluded to until he remembered the pebble at the gate that he had vented his anger on. Still, whoever this person was had no right to judge him just from that one kick.
His mother's voice, well the woman he called mother anyway came to mind, "always be kind to your elders" "never hurt someone without just cause" what a load of dog shit that had been! One set of laws for Abel and another for Cain. With these thoughts in mind Mark turned towards the figure slouching away to vent more when he noticed the state of the torn cloak, the limp in his right leg and how he was favouring his left arm.
"Hey Mr." he called out, moving towards the figure. The person turned toward Mark and in that moment Mark's eyes fell on the weathered old face showing scars going under an unkept beard and the frail body beneath the cloak that looked more like the clothes hangar in his cupboard holding up the cloak and clothes than a living being. The person seemed to shift his gaze everywhere in search of any hidden accomplices of the young man before him. Mark reached out his hand in an offer to shake the man's hand. Unsure how to react, the man shook Mark's hand with a gentle but firm grip that spoke volumes to Mark of the man's strength. "Look, I meant no harm to you Sir, just vented my anger not realising there could be others around. Perhaps if you would allow me to do something for you to make amends?"
The old man retorted with a bitter laugh. "Yeah right! You could just wave your magic wand and make all my troubles disappear couldn't ya. Just as you can handle your own shit! Thanks but no thanks. Just mind your own business and I'll mind mine. How's that for a deal".
With that the man turned away but the goodness instilled in Mark from young age wouldn't let him just let it pass. "Look, you need some medical aid, better clothes and some warm food to tide you through these cold days. Could you at least let me help you with these?"
"What's in it for you?" the man asked not bothering to turn around. "You want me to return your favor with someone's murder, or a kidnapping? Maybe help you rob old pensioners whilst they sleep at night? No one does anything for nothing, no one! You got that! Not even blood is thicker than water these days."
His words hit home and something in Mark snapped, here he was trying to be helpful and this old fart was busy digging deeper in his own fresh wounds. Instead of an angry retort what came out of Mark's mouth shocked the old man forcing him to turn. The sound of anguish and agony as Mark screamed to him to just shut up as the dam broke and tears gushed down Mark's face scaring the old man more than anything he had witnessed to-date. It seemed as though Mark's soul was tearing out of his body as Mark was shaking and screaming holding his hands to his ears.
After what seemed hours but was about three minutes, the screams petered out as Mark got winded and the old man heaved a sigh of relief. Looking around to see if anyone else had noted or perhaps the local constabulary was rushing to the scene, not wanting any issues, the old man got hold of Mark's hand firmly and started wobbling away with Mark in tow. Just as he got Mark close to a bench a few meters away, Mark collapsed on the ground with deep heaves as his swollen eyes continued releasing tears messing his shirt and leaving streaks across his cheeks.
The old man parked himself on the bench and did what he had been doing for a number of years, he patiently waited for Mark to calm down as he watched the tree branches sway in the light breeze absorbing the distant sounds of traffic and town life as the world went on oblivious of the suffering of hundreds of others like Mark and himself. He wondered what had caused the young man to breakdown but knew he would not be getting any answers anytime soon. Why should it bother him as much? When over the years he had seen many within his little sanctuary scream for joy or breakdown in agony and pain? What was it about this young man that tugged at his heartstrings? Was it his apparent concern and care for his plight? Was there some cosmic power at work? Was it the so called God who had forsaken him for all these years? A mixture of thoughts and emotions filtered through his mind as he looked unseeingly at the trees being shaken and stirred by some invisible force.
Mark finally managed to check his emotions and wipe off the tears in his eyes and through his puffy eyes his sight fell on the old man lost in his own world. He realized that the old man had meant him no harm and surprisingly whatever he had triggered within Mark had been therapeutic and had brought some relief to his soul albeit little but enough to allow him to think a little more clearly. Mark also remembered his offer to the old man thus gathering his resolve, he raised himself on shaky limbs and offered his hand to the old man.