The Ignorance of Time

Bert lived in a quaint house. It was made of brick and stained glass. The house was small with one bedroom, and one level excluding the attic. The exterior was an old mirror of the past. Long grass and dead roses lined the yard. Bert had no will or way to attend to the garden. For many years he had been too old to bend to the floor and his wife typically attended to the flowers, but she had passed nearly half a decade ago. He only needed this small house, for the past four years he had been living alone. 

The inside of the house, however, was laden in comforters, candles and warm hues. The house contained anything and everything that made it home. Though Bert lived alone he kept his house a home for himself and felt little lonesome. 

Bert rarely left his home, he only ventured out into town once a month to get groceries. He seldom talked to any of his neighbors. The neighborhood grew cold to Bert, they never talked to him, some even feared his mysterious nature. The children were especially brutal. They spread rumors about the old man and had demolished his yard two Halloweens ago. 

Bert grew to not care for his neighbors. He slowly became the old men seen in movies. When walking in town he had frowning wrinkles tattooed on his face. When home, Bert lived happily like he did everywhere many years ago. He had his routine and he was content. He did not need the townspeople for he had himself and about once a week, his wife. Though she had passed years ago, She often came to him. When Bert would fall asleep early in the morning he would be awakened by a chilled breeze, this was when he knew she had arrived. He would make his way to the attic where a small table accompanied by two handmade chairs sat. On the table sat a bowl of biscuits, a tealight, and two teacups clad in chintz roses. Behind the table sat a woman aged about seventy-five. The woman glowed with warm energy. She looked like a typical innocent elder. This was Mary, Bert's wife.

Bert sat adjacent from Mary like he always did. They would often talk about the week, old memories, and at the end, the future. Mary guided Bert, she told him of the future. Usually, it would be small things to Bert, the neighbors getting engaged, new shows, or obscure news headlines. 

“Hello Bert, I’ve missed you”

“And you too my love.”

“How are things in Mayberry?”

“Much of the same, you know how it is here”

“That is true dear,”

The couple babbled on first about the town, then of old memories of their college days when they had first met. As the conversation went on Bert's hard exterior melted away to reveal his youthful spirit. 

“Yes my love those were the times,” Bert laughed out knowing his cliché.

Mary laughed along with him but trailed her eyes.

“Is everything alright?” Bert asked

Mary hesitated and a grim expression formed like wax on her face.

“Well Bert, it’s hard to say, it’s about the future. A meteor is going to hit the earth and soon… there will be no future,”

“Dear, that doesn’t matter. I have no world here without you, I’ll go to be with you” Bert replied

“But what about the children of Mayberry, the world Bert. We got to live our lives but they haven’t even started!”

Bert looked down to think. There wasn’t much he could do, nevermind what he wanted to do. Mary looked at him and seemed to read his mind.

“You need to tell them, Bert y-” 

“ I can’t Mary,” Bert blurted out. “They wouldn’t believe me even if I did tell them, maybe it’s better if they don’t know.“

Mary stood there, staring at her husband.

“Think about you” Bert said “When you were diagnosed, you knew how much time you had left, Do you want these kids to look at that meteor and know the same? They wouldn’t believe me and it's probably already all too late!” 

Mary had to think, did she want these kids, children, to experience what she had been through. Was it better for them to know how and when? 

“I’ll see you soon, one way or another.”

Mary tried to intervene but she couldn’t. Bert had already gotten up and shut the door. He headed to his room and lied on his bed. He lay, eyes wide open waiting for the morning, Thinking. He couldn’t tell people. They wouldn’t believe him until it was time.

Bert didn’t know if it was day or night but he never left his bed. He himself had to live knowing that it was coming yet not when. 

For what seemed like days on end, Bert lay in his bed. He didn’t know how long he was there but he had seen light and dark six times each.

On this sixth sun, Bert who was still lying in his bed. Noticed a shadow in the window of his bedroom. The shadow grew darker and darker. Enveloping his room in an abyss. Bert grasped the covers with what little strength he had left and squeezed his eyes shut. Then, there was nothing.

"Hello dear," a faint whisper echoed.