A Second Chance

His hands trembled as he pulled his coat a little tighter against the chill morning wind. The metallic half-light of dawn was brightening as he sat on a bench facing the duck pond in the local park. It was his favourite time to come here. Only the occasional jogger interrupted his solitude with a neon-Lycra clad nod as they zipped past.

James often came here to be alone with his thoughts. Feeding the ducks before the hordes descended with their babbling children and littering ways. He tore a little bread and threw it at the rag-tag gaggle that had approached him, waddling in anticipation of their breakfast.

A sigh escaped him as he shivered. He looked at the back of his hands. Liver spots and wrinkles reflected back. His left hand was pulled tight into a claw by the onset of arthritis. Oh to be young again. Free from the infirmity of old age. He wondered if this would be his last winter? Certainly the last few had been hard. He thought the flu was going to carry him off this year. But no. He survived once more.

'Cold this morning huh?'

He gave a start as he noticed a man sat on the bench beside him. Had he dozed off? It was happening more frequently he had to admit. One more less than gentle reminder of time's passing. He studied the newcomer before answering. In his thirties maybe? forties? It was hard to tell. He was at least half his age. Long hair in a ponytail so blonde it was almost white and an ever so pale countenance. He scoffed to himself at his attire. Long black coat, black boots and jeans. A bit of colour wouldn't hurt this one.

'Yes it's cold, that's what tends to come with Winter.' He replied, somewhat testily.
'Winter brings a lot of things with it. The Winter of seasons, the Winter of life' The other replied enigmatically.
'Well I don't know about the Winter of life but Winter's are cold. That's what makes them Winter.'

He had no time for psycho-babble. This was his morning routine and he was put out that so early in the morning he was having to accommodate the very inane chatter that he had come here at this time to avoid. He had half a mind to tell this guy to piss off and find his own spot.

'You come here to feed the ducks and think on past mistakes.'

The other man looked straight at him as he said this. There was no question in his voice. Just a bald statement of fact. As James looked at him he felt a chill beyond that of the cold breeze. He had such piercing blue eyes, he felt their weight and he felt a genuine anger.

'Don't pretend to know me young man,' He put iron in his voice. 'You think because I am old you can come and sit beside me and judge me? Assume you know how and what I am feeling? Why don't you go off and find your own spot to sit instead of annoying an old man with your jabber?'

There, that was him told. Now hopefully he would beat it. Leave him to his thoughts.

'We make so many mistakes in life. We betray those we love. We hurt our friends. Sometimes we commit acts we cannot even speak of and though we might never speak of them, we remember. We remember those things and we wish we could change what was done.'

James stared wide-eyed in horror at the blonde haired man. Memories flitting before his eyes. The lake. The blood. And the lies. The ever expanding web of lies promulgating through the years from that night. The lies and the guilt which gnawed and consumed him to this very day. Everything in the last forty years coloured by the events of that rage filled night. Tremulously he whispered.

'Who... who are you? What do you know?'
'What do I know? I know everything James. I know you. I know your every despicable act. I know James. I know you.'

James's heart pounded loud in his ears. Was this it? Had they caught him after all this time? He was too old. Why now?

The blonde haired man raised his lips in a chilling simulacrum of a smile. He waved magnanimously around them.

'Oh don't worry James. I have not come to make you pay. I am here to offer my help.'

A crow cawed raucously overhead making James lurch. He felt the cold grip of fear clawing at his gut.

'In fact my dear James. What if I was to offer you something? What if I was here, on this day to help you?'
'Help me. Help me how?' His voice was a hoarse whisper.
'Redemption James. Redemption.'

The blonde man's penetrating blue eyes held him fast. Filling James's vision.

'What if you could do it all again, hmmm? What if... You had a second chance at life James. Would you make a difference? Make the same mistakes again? What if this time you had a chance to redeem yourself. Make better choices. Shine some light into this infested existence?' His voice raising to a snarl then lowering once more. 'Well? Would you be a better man James. A good man?'

'Yes.' He whispered, his voice a croak. 'Yes, I would be a better man. I would make things right.' Tears were falling freely now down his wrinkled worn cheeks.

'Then go. Go now James. No one knows you, you have no friends. No family. I give you this gift. Go and be... better'

James flinched then stood. He had no doubt the last was a command. As he stood he looked down in amazement. He felt strong, wait. More than strong. He felt young! He raised a hand to wipe his tears and saw his hand was smooth, unworn by years of living. He didn't need a mirror to tell him. He could feel the shedding of the years. Feel the vitality he had lost over time come flooding back to him.

'Thank you. Thank you, whoever you are. I will change. I swear.' He hurried away, discarding the bag of bread he had carried. He moved with vitality now. Strong. He didn't look back at the bench. He couldn't. As he walked toward the exit of the park his confidence gained and he thought of all the things he might achieve now. A second chance! He had a second chance!

The blonde haired man watched him recede into the distance with a calculating gaze. He pulled a cigarette from nowhere, the end igniting itself. Some people couldn't change. Wouldn't change. He smiled.

'One more to me.'