"The Keyword of the Week" - FOREST DIEBACK

I came to this city for the first time. I thought I would stay here for a few days, and I stayed in the hotel for the whole day and, when bored, would walk and move towards this hillside park. Even in strange cities, I always find a favorite corner to sit in and relax.

Today has been different. I slept all day in the hotel room, then I got up and went to the park and this favorite spot. It was one autumn day when I went there. This park is almost an island—at the city's edge, where the hill begins.

A few benches were lying far and wide on the shore. These benches were empty today. The leaves kept coming and going whenever a gust of wind would blow them away. I saw a few children playing at a distance, but they probably didn’t even see me. They would make a pile of leaves, burn them with matches, and run away. The clouds of smoke spread in the setting sun of the evening, filling the air around the park with an unpleasant odor.

I walked away from the bridge—on the other side, where bare branches of trees were touching the water. As soon as I descended the slope, my eyes suddenly fixed on that old man sitting on a small sports chair, completely still and silent. The old guy had a fishing line in his hand, immersed in the river's murky water. But his attention was not on the line; he was looking at the trains passing through on the city bridge.

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It was a silent corner of the park. I could see the wet grass, but I sat there. It has been raining in this city for the last few days. The soil under the grass was moist and so soft that my feet were pressing it down. It was the first day the rain had stopped, but the clouds were still there.

During all this time, the old man hadn’t caught a single fish. Once the line moved, he grabbed it and pulled it. I was probably quite excited and came closer to him, but nothing happened. He took the fishing rod out of the river, looked at me, and started laughing. The hook was empty. The fish had probably eaten the bait.

We both sat quietly in our respective places again. The old man filled the fodder with his fork and then threw it into the water. He lit his pipe and raised the collars of the old overcoat to his ears. I could not decide exactly at which particular point his eyes were fixed; even after thinking a lot about whether his eyes were open or closed, yeah, it was difficult to say exactly.

But gradually, my confusion was confirmed as to what that illusion was about. I could not know exactly until today, but maybe it was my doubt only. He laughed at me once. I wonder, why did he feel the need to laugh at me?

I started feeling a strange uneasiness inside me. He was not aware of my existence at all, and although I was sitting so close to him, it seemed to me very unusual. Undoubtedly, he was eyeing something special somewhere—something that I could not see.

I tried to follow his gaze in the middle of the tower of the bridge, which twinkled in the setting lights of the evening. But these were things I used to see every day as I walked through the streets of that city. What was so special for this old man, who might have been living in this city for years? My inner delusion said it was probably something else—something completely different.

But can this man see? Suddenly, this absurd thought flashed through my mind. There was a slight gust of wind, and the sun was going down. I thought he would leave now. He was leaving now. He took the fishing hook out of the water, draped the canvas chair, and pressed it to the side, then put on an old hat, took the pipe out of his mouth, and put it in his pocket.

Suddenly, the old man fixed another bait on the fishing rod and put it back into the water. I don’t know why, at that moment, I felt as if I depended on him in a very complicated, mysterious way, as if by the very moment he was gone I would lose something that had been growing in me for a long time, as if his stay here is connected with my existence.

But at that moment, something might have happened—perhaps the rattle of dry leaves or perhaps a stone rolled into the water. He looked back once towards the running water of the river, then stepped forward quickly and left in front of me.

While leaving, he did not look at me even once. For a while, the creaking of the leaves under his feet was the only sound, and then everything became as silent as before.

I got up from my seat and sat down on the exact spot where the old man was sitting sometime ago. The marks of his shoes on the wet soil were still visible, with the front one showing deeper marks on the soil, but I could not keep my attention on them for long.

Some time passed later, and when my attention turned to myself, I was looking in the same direction with no definite intention. The old man was looking a few minutes back. No one will know, I thought. Some time ago, an old man was sitting here in this place. But now I get a little restless as I start doubting myself, as if I had made a mistake by sitting here.

I could hear a small sound behind me. Two boys were walking slowly towards me. Like other boys in this town, they covered their heads with round, blue caps. The elder boy, who was tall but did not seem to be much older, and the little boy descended the slope with subdued steps and left all the leaves tied in the handkerchief in the water.

Meanwhile, I realized that the older boy was watching me, and then he stepped forward. I felt it was natural for him to walk up to me like this, as I had been waiting for him for the last few moments.

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"How are you today?" he asked. I felt that the little boy standing behind me was smiling disinterestedly.

"Are you still empty-handed?"

"Empty-handed?" My eyes fell involuntarily on my hands; they were empty, for sure.

"I don’t mean your hands,” the elder boy said in a mocking voice. “You didn't catch a single fish again."

“But... you’ve got a misunderstanding, probably. I am not who you are looking for. Maybe the one you're looking for has already left."

I looked around me. The yellowish look of the setting sun had spread on the island. Smoke was still rising from the pile of burning leaves near the distant bridge.

"He is not here now," I said, but I do not know why my voice was not as firm as before.

"But you come here every day."

I saw that the old man's foot mark was still clearly visible next to my foot, like a severed part of the body. That mark was stuck to the wet ground.

"But it is not mine."

I countered in a very uncertain and weak tone. They stood silently. I felt as if they were waiting for me to put my feet forward to give proof.

Then I was suddenly shocked. The small boy was standing in the same place where the old man had stopped for a few moments while walking. It was the same place, and his eyes were fixed on the same unknown point where the old man had been staring for so long.

The row of insects crawling on the wet soil near the bush stopped for a moment and then moved on. The big boy spit the straw from his mouth into the water. Taking off the cap from his head, flicking it twice in the air, and wearing it, he then, with the same old, reckless gesture, swung the twig in the air and followed the little boy.

That’s all that happened. They were gone, leaving me on my own. I was left alone, but as long as loneliness remains with us in its true sense, then we are not alone. Now I was only with myself, and I found it very terrifying to think that both of them had taken away from me something that was with me till now.

After that, I could not sit there for long. I then returned to my old place, near the trunk of the tree. The hills of the city were now hidden in darkness, but the lights of the church were still visible.

Some distance away from the island, the lights of the old bridge in the city began to flicker one after the other. The shadows were now trembling like twinkling candles in the running water.

Have I really seen those two boys who have just left here before? But I am a stranger in this city. If I suddenly leave tonight, no one will know anything except the hotel manager and the police. No, this is my illusion. They must have made a mistake in recognizing me. Maybe they’re joking. Children often make fun of foreigners.

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I was glad there was silence all around, as unbroken and relentless as the sound of running water. Meanwhile, the cold suddenly increased. I was planning to leave, but then I realized I was not alone. To my right, near the bush, there was a slight rustle. At first, I saw two faint shadows, and then I could see the front part of a girl’s skirt was probably stuck in the bush, and she bent down to get it out.

It was probably the rustle of the bush that drew my attention to her. Behind her was another person, whom I could not see clearly at first glance because he stood completely silent without moving.

Maybe his long overcoat hid him in the dark in such a way that it was impossible to see him until one watched him from a closer point. Then they both disappeared into the bush, and I could only hear a few strange sounds. You know what I mean, those special heavy breathing sounds.

I thought forest dieback affected cultivation and trees, but I could feel it was taking over me as well. Should I stop going to new cities now?

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