The Last Rant

Every day he sat there.
No one knew where he came from but everyone knew him. He would wait patiently on a bench until someone approached and greeted him. When they did, he would greet back with a broad smile on his face and invariably ask: Do you want to hear a story? I have at least 75 times 365 to tell.
No more, the children would jokingly ask. I think we have already heard them all.
Sometimes they would bring some soft fruit or a sandwich. He thanked them politely before starting his story. His audience waited attentively for the continuation of "Once upon a time" or "A long time ago there lived a...". No one ever interrupted him and when his story was finished there was always silence followed by thunderous applause. This just in the middle of the city park.
It almost seemed like a stage show as lively as he told it, gesticulating wildly with his hands.

Once upon a time, there was a man.

He was a dad but just not a dad like we all think a dad should look and be like. He did his best taking care of his children who'd lost their mom not one of them had ever known. They never asked what happened to her. There was no need to. All ten felt kind of content having this man for a dad plus with siblings the house is never quiet.

The dad did extremely his best to keep each child happy and the neighbourhood. Single dads are rare and with that many children, one could never be sure what he was up to. There had been a time they'd asked how about the mother but all he had done was shook his head while tears welled up in his eyes. The neighbours who didn't like crybabies shook their heads and walked out. Later, they told themselves they would see if he would answer their questions.

The longer the family lived in the neighbourhood, the more unhealthy the father looked. The housewives turned their noses up at him and the fathers avoided him.

What real guy spends his life on the couch all day, doing nothing and lives in a house with a string of children, they said to each other in the pub. As if one wife wasn't bad enough.

They all nodded in agreement before ordering another metre of beer to knock back.

While the father cut the bread, one of the children stirred in the soup. Anyone who would walk in there at that moment would beg for a bowl of such a delicious-smelling soup. What no one knew was that the father had once been a famous cook in a country on another continent. There, guests would queue for hours hoping to get a seat in the restaurant. Now he only cooked for the children and it was costing him more and more. He tried not to think about that because if he was no longer around who would take care of those ten?

After dinner, at the time the children went to bed he sat at the kitchen table usually in the dark. It was the only moment before bedtime he spent alone. In thought he seemed to be, his face had a strange expression as if he saw a ghost. Not one of the neighbours ever invited him and the children never asked how Dad was doing. The one who didn't sleep could hear whispering behind the closed kitchen door that at times could be heard in the hallway, on the stairs and in the master bedroom as well.

It was on one of those nights one of those ten had overheard what Dad had said.

It sounded as if he was answering the whispering. In the middle of the night, long after the father had fallen asleep the child stood up and prepared a special drink. How it knew this recipe is unknown. It's long ago and whatever it was people rather forget about the past than learn from it.

If you don't remember it, it didn't happen, one of the children said. It doesn't matter. She smiled at the old storyteller on the bench, we'll understand.

For a moment he studied the child's face before he continued...

That child, what he had overheard, what he thought he heard... It could have been a wrong thought but it didn't ask but decided to act. The liquid it made was a secret extract that would send the one who drank it straight into another dimension. The boy was sure the man who cooked for him and his siblings had... murdered their mother. Those whispers he had overheard said he should have been punished for what he had done.

You are a killer, John, you belong in hell, a woman's voice whispered, repeat after me, John is a killer, John is a killer of a mother.

The sound of that voice... it's not easy to forget. Was it the woman he had heard who had shown him the book with old recipes on the top shelf of the bookcase? It didn't matter, nor did the truth all he wanted was to take revenge on the man who had killed his mother! That was what the boy thought and it was all he could think about. Week after week he added the liquid he brewed to his dad's soup and drinks. The result was visible but no one in the neighbourhood cared about the unwanted man and his family.

How about the children, a girl liked to know.

The old man on the bench shook his head.

What happened, a boy said.

The police arrived.

To arrest the father?

Sadly the old man shook his head. No dear, the father was found dead and so were eight of the siblings. Two of them disappeared.

You made this up sir, the little girl said, boys don't cook and...

Was it true, a boy asked, did the father do it?

No, he did not. The children were the firstborn of the new generation. They never had a mother. Their dad was the man who'd tried to save them from more experiments.

But the whispering, the voices...

It was all a mistake. The boy heard it wrong. The whispering could only be heard by him. It was in his head, a mistake due to the experiments or... The old man swallowed and pointed at the side of his head.

What happened to the other two siblings?

Those two brothers? One followed the other and...

Killed him?

No! No, he made him drink the right elixir, the one that doesn't kill but sends you to another dimension.

Where is it?

Up there, somewhere. The old man looked up in the sky and so did his audience but no one saw the dimension he was talking about or the tear that fell over his cheek.

This is your last rant, a voice whispered, there's no story left to tell.

25-5-2024