The Old Man and Jane

The Old Man and Jane

Jane bought the cottage at an auction.  It was cheap, a steal.  No one seemed to want it.  She got the keys and moved in with her two cats.  She was happy.  Her cats were happy.  The cellar was deep.  Cold.  She thought of putting an artist studio down there.

    She stood in the cellar.  The light swinging to and fro.  She stared at the cupboard.

The paint was flaking and some of the wood was split.  She opened it.  It was deep and full of cobwebs.  It smelled of mushrooms.  She stepped in and ran her finger through the dust.  At the back of the cupboard she found a door.  There was an iron key in it.

    There was a path beyond the door.  She followed the path.  It went down the hill to the shore.  She stood on the beach and listened to the waves, smelled the salt air.  There was an island.  She found a boat and crossed the gap of water to the beach.  When she saw the old man she called to him.  He did not respond.  She walked along the beach towards him.

    “What do you want?” he asked her.

    “Why are you on my island?” she said.

    “Your island?”

    “It’s in my cupboard,” she said.

    The old man nodded.

    “I’m retired,” he said.

    “Retired?”

    “From being God.”

She laughed.

    “Right,” she said and went home.  The next day she made sandwiches.  She put them on a tray with a pot of tea.  She went down to the island.

    “Here you are,” she said.  “Shall I play mum?”

    God looked frightened.  She poured tea and ate cheese and cucumber sandwiches.  There was sand in them.

    “What are you doing?” God said.

    “I’m keeping you company.”

    “Why?”

    “That’s what people do,” she said.

    God didn’t drink his tea.  Jane went home.  The next day she made cheese and cucumber sandwiches.  She sat on the beach with God and talked.

    “Why did you give up?” she asked.

    “I...”

    The next day she read to God.  Frankenstein.  God looked miserable.  She went home.

    “Did you ever think about us?” she asked.  He didn’t answer.  Jane sulked.  She went home to feed her cats.  She didn’t go back for days.  Weeks.  When she did God said.

    “I’ve missed you.”  Jane cried.

    “I’ve got cancer,” she said.  “Can you help me?”  God looked tired.  He shook his head.

    “I’m retired,” he said.  “Sorry”

    “For what?”

    “Everything.”

    The following morning she took God sandwiches.  He wasn’t on the beach.  She put the tray on the sand and went into the forest.

    “Hello,” she called. 

    She found God.  He was sitting with his back against a tree.  There was a note in his hand.

    It read:

    Sorry.

    “I’m sorry,” she whispered.  She closed his eyes like in the movies.

    She went home.  She didn’t make sandwiches the next day.  She fed her cats.  She wrote a note.  It said:

    Gone to live with God.  Jane x