Loneliness called out to Roger as he trekked along the back trail to Woodland. He turned and noted with some alarm darkening clouds approaching behind him. A practical man, he decided to catch a quick break under the thick branches of a spreading oak tree before he’d double his efforts to keep ahead of the storm.
First, he glanced around for his own safety, then sat down on a log. The voice from somewhere called again, “Loneliness! Loneliness!”
He took a long drink from his canteen; no sense being so thirsty, surely there’d be water ahead somewhere soon.
Logic tried to bring Roger some peacefulness in his mind, but Loneliness wouldn’t leave. Roger tightened his grip on his walking stick, as if muscles could do what his mind refused to do.
The rain came as gentle sprinkles at first, which soon were outdone by piercing hard slashes of rain. Roger pulled his hat more firmly on his head, hunching over to spare his face. The tree deflected a lot of the downpour, and that led to an unexpected blessing.
Time seemed to stand still, and everything was quiet all around him. Then, it came again as if on cue, the word “Loneliness!”, but this time it was definitely coming from right beside him as he was sitting on the log.
“What? What is going on!” Roger’s man-sized sensibilities had to inquire. “Oh, God, what’s going on!” It wasn’t a question; it was more of an aggravated exclamation of a person nearly losing his cool.
