Walter and the Clown E-Book

M.W. Westerberg

• Herausgeber: Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Serie: Walter's saga Book one
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 391

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

One summer night, the old man lies by the side of the road and looks up at the starry sky. When he grows tired of it, he begins to think about why he is lying there. He can feel pain everywhere but he doesn't know what has happened to him. Who is he, where did he come from, and where is he going now? In search of clarity, he begins his fairytale journey and along the way he meets different people and animals who brighten and complicate his life. The Clown, a jovial traveling jester, already knows who she is and where she's going in life, or does she? Is there perhaps another reality out there for her to discover? She has a positive outlook on life and wants to see the good in everyone. He is cynical and affected by his old age and his negative thoughts about people. Their paths cross and they find new sides to themselves and each other as they travel across land and sea, through the countryside and cities. They encounter many different characters, including a pompous count, pirates, an evil old lady, a desperate circus director and an incomparably beautiful queen, but who is good and who is evil? And who does the black dog belong to? Walter softens up as he remembers his past life while exploring his new one. Clown discovers new sides to herself that she never thought existed and that frightens her. Walter and the Clown is the first book in a modern picaresque novel series full of humor, adventure, joy and sadness where the two main characters are faced with difficult challenges and reluctantly drawn into all kinds of complicated and comical situations. Walter's Saga Book One

Leseprobe

THANKS

To mom and dad for always being there for me.

To Maria, Katarina and all beta readers for your fantastic help.

To myself for having the courage to start over again.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 1

The stars look like small grains of salt on a dark blue tablecloth. He has never understood star constellations because he thinks they don't resemble anything at all. Only white dots sprinkled across the starry sky.

After a while he starts to think about why he is lying by the side of the road, but he can't remember how he got there. He sits up and looks around, but everything is so dark that it is difficult to see anything at all. He puts one hand on the cool soil and spins around half a turn, puts down his other hand, stretches his legs and rises to his feet.

He takes a step, and another, then he stops and puts his hands around his mouth and shouts: “Hello! Is anyone there?” He gets only silence and stillness in response.

A darkness and a fog envelop him so that he hardly sees where he puts his feet and stumbles every now and then on the uneven road. It feels as if he is being hunted, a wild animal who must flee without knowing from what. He has difficulty breathing and his body is heavy and his legs can barely support him. Is he alone here? And where is here? How did he get here? And who is he?

He stumbles and feels his whole body ache and he has to make an effort not to fall over. Out of breath, he straightens up again, but the pain burns in his back and knees.

The old man realizes that he must find somewhere to sit and rest a bit. The moon shines faintly through the fog, but the light doesn't help him much now. He still doesn't know where to go, so he might as well take a little break and hopefully the fog will lift after a while so he can see where he is.

Every step he takes hurts one of his feet because he now has a stone in his shoe. Damn, just his luck. He mumbles and swears as he stomps around and has to concentrate all the time so as not to lose his balance.

The old man stops and thinks about how long he's been stomping around like this, but he has no time perspective at all.

Could it be a few minutes? Twenty maybe? I don't know, but I can't keep wandering around like this anyway, he thinks and wanders on.

He sees a glimmer of light a little further ahead from a street lamp. When he arrives, he leans against it, stands on one leg and unlaces the shoe on the other foot. When he has the shoe in his hand, he turns it upside down and a small stone falls out.

"So, you’re the one who's been tormenting my foot for so long", the old man says, "but that’s over now."

With great effort he wobbles a bit back and forth but finally manages to put the shoe back on, but he doesn't bother to tie it. Instead, he stomps on, one foot in front of the other, one, two, one, two. This road has to lead somewhere, and at least he now has a line of streetlights to follow and no stone in his shoe anymore. You can't go anywhere without ending up somewhere else.

He sees a stick lying in front of him at the next street light. He stops, waits a bit, gathers his breath and looks at the stick. He considers whether the effort of reaching down to pick it up is worth the trouble. After a while he decides that it probably is so he draws air into his lungs, holds his breath and slowly bends down and reaches for it. When he has a firm grip on the stick, he straightens his body again and exhales while praising himself for a task well done.

He examines the stick closely to see if it's strong enough, twists and turns it a little, pries it a little, notices that it won't break. The stick is dirty and crooked, so it's not particularly pretty to look at, but it'll do and it can probably help him quite well when he walks. He feels like an old man when he walks with the stick, but he doesn't care because no one sees him here anyway.

Walking is a little easier now and he can barely feel the pain. He wonders where this is going and where he started. He doesn't remember that, but he still doesn't see anywhere to sit and he can't just stand still and look stupid.

After a while, the pain starts up again. "If only this damned darkness could go away so I can at least see a little better", he grumbles as he walks forward.

Now he can hear the sounds of people having fun, loud laughter, music and clinking glasses, someone screaming and someone crying.

Life, he thinks.

The darkness has eased up and morning is approaching. Towards him now comes a couple who are swaying all over the road, holding each other and laughing. When they see the old man with the stick, the torn clothes and the scarred face, they recoil. They look at him with disdain and when they pass they keep their distance. He tries with a: "Could you help me?", but as soon as the young people pass him, they just laugh. He thinks that there is no point in trying again, so he continues his walk.

Now he sees where the young people have been because on the right side of the road he approaches an inn. When he arrives, he stops and looks in at all the people enjoying themselves there. He feels in his pockets, but he can't find any money, not a single coin, so there's no point in going there. Instead he stands and just looks at the people inside. The door flies open a little every now and then and he can see people dancing, but he thinks it's probably too late for him, at least in this old body.

Some people coming out say some word to him, sometimes mockingly and sometimes kindly, and he answers them in the same way. The music stops and after a while the last person comes out. He walks past the old man, gives him a sideways look and says: “Get on home”, burps and moves on. The old man remains looking after him and then his gaze goes to a small paddock next to the inn. In the paddock there are some pigs sleeping soundly and he considers going to sleep next to them, at least he would get some rest. He smiles a little at that thought, but then wanders on.

Now the sun is starting to rise and the birds are chirping and he can see a big tree in the middle of a meadow so now at least he has a goal and he decides to aim for it.

He comes to a ditch that runs alongside the meadow. The ditch is not that wide so the old man could probably get over it. He concentrates and takes a small shot across the ditch, groaning as he lands, then puts the stick back down to regain his balance. He waits a bit to feel if he has sustained any further damage, but he soon realizes that it was no worse than before so he continues his trek towards his goal.

As he approaches the tree, he also sees the fine grass growing around the trunk of the tree. He thinks it would be nice to sit down and take a breather, and in any case, he can't bear to stand that much longer. At the tree, he turns and slowly bends down, but just as he nears the ground, he loses his balance and falls backwards with a thud. His back burns, his knees ache and his head flies back and hits the tree trunk and he drop the stick and the hat flies off and lands in the grass. The old man sits for a few minutes and draws his hand across the back of his head, muttering and swearing but soon realizes that it's no use anyway because the damage is already done. He must be more careful next time.

He spots his hat and reaches to pick it up. It is a nice light brown fedora with a black hat band and a dark blue fabric on the inside. He twists and turns the hat a few times before placing it back on the grass. His forehead is really sweaty after the walk and the fall so he needs to cool it off a bit before he puts his hat back on. He draws his arm over his forehead and breathes heavily. At least it's warm here and the wind cools pleasantly so he leans back and enjoys.

The sun begins to warm his old face and skinny body as it rises higher in the sky and he realizes that right now he's actually feeling pretty good. He doesn't know where he is or even who he is.

Such thoughts will have to wait, he thinks.

He picks up the stick lying in the grass and runs his fingers over it to remove some dirt. He realizes that the stick will serve him well and with that reassuring thought he puts it back in the grass and leans back and closes his eyes.

It would be good to have something to drink, maybe a beer or... No, he shouldn't be picky, now a glass of water or maybe a little wine would actually be enough. Unfortunately, he doesn't have access to it now, so instead he tries to think about something else.

Soon he dreams of a beautiful woman. She has long dark blonde hair and a charming smile. She says something to him, but he can't make out what.

His daydream is interrupted by a voice and he flinches. He turns his head but he can't see anyone. "Hello!" he shouts, but his throat is so dry that he can barely make a sound. He hears nothing more and then he thinks that if it was something important, the voice will probably return. Then he thinks that the voice was probably just in his head so he also feels a bit stupid.

Have I gone crazy? Yes, maybe so, and if I understand that much, that's a good sign in itself, he thinks.

Now it's completely quiet and still again apart from the leaves on the tree he's sitting under that move a little in the wind and birds chirping in the distance. He looks at his wrinkled hands, at his dirty nails, at his way too big clothes that don't fit his pale and thin body and at his dirty, torn shoes. He takes care to tie the untied shoe, the shoe that the stone was in. He notices that a button is missing from the shirt and that there is a hole in the sleeve of the jacket. He feels in all the pockets and fishes out a tie. It's worn and the pattern is ugly, so ugly that he smiles a little and puts it back again while thinking that he would never buy such an ugly tie. In the other pockets there is nothing. Finally, he puts his hat back on and folds it down over his face, leans against the tree trunk and closes his eyes. He hears a dog barking in the distance and he flinches. He hears the bark coming closer. He folds up his hat and tightens his legs a little. He is usually not afraid of dogs.

You still have to be on your guard, he thinks to himself, and grabs the stick lying in the grass. He hears the bark coming closer and he tightens his grip on the stick.

Chapter 2

A dog runs straight towards him. He sees that it is a fairly large black dog that does not look dangerous at all. The dog stops at a distance, stares at him and wags its tail, and then the black dog runs straight towards him. At the last second, the old man tightens his legs even more just before the dog runs straight up into his arms and licks and pants at his face.

The dog's breath is not so pleasant and now he is also starting to get fed up with the wet tongue that sweeps over his face. He lets go of the stick and pushes the dog away while telling it that’s enough. When the dog has backed up a few steps, he pats it a little on the head and thinks it's a nice dog, while the dog pants and wags its tail. After a while, the dog calms down and sits down on the grass, and the old man can return to his previous occupation.

He leans back against the tree and closes his eyes, enjoying the sunlight warming his old face with the difference that now he also has warm fur to run his fingers through, which of course makes the situation a little better than before.

After a while he opens his eyes again and looks at the black dog. Whose dog is this and why does the dog seem to recognize him? It even seems as if the dog has longed for him. As if he had owned a dog and been gone for a couple of hours and come back and seen how happy the dog is to see him again.

But he doesn't own a dog, or does he? Not what he remembers anyway, and then it's pointless to think about it any further. He also notices that he's not as thirsty anymore, that his throat feels a little better now, but he doesn't want to think about whether the dog's wet tongue has anything to do with it.

He looks at the dog and notes that it is a male. He thinks a little about whether he should give the black dog a name, but at the same time thinks that it's not his dog and you can't just go around naming dogs left and right. The dog's owner has of course already given him a name, but since the dog does not have a collar, it is difficult to find out what that name is. He would like to own the dog, that it would be a good friend and a pleasant traveling companion wherever this journey leads. He also thinks that it was a stupid thought then he thinks that he is thinking too many stupid thoughts and should stop it. He again leans his head against the tree trunk, folds his hat over his face and soon he is asleep again.

When they are both sitting there in the warm grass under the tree, the dog suddenly starts whining a little and it wakes the old man up. The black dog looks at him with its brown eyes, whines some more, turns its head in the way dogs sometimes do, and finally stands up.

"What is it now?" the old man yawns and let’s go of the warm fur. The dog wags his tail and barks, as if he wants the man to follow him or maybe just play a little. The dog does his best to convey his wish to the old man with a wide smile, a wagging tail and a panting mouth.

He looks kindly at the man and barks again, jumping away a bit to immediately return to the spot he was just standing. He stomps on the spot and barks some more.

"What is it then stupid dog, why can't we just sit here and enjoy ourselves for a little while longer?"

"Yes, yes, I'll come then, even if I was sitting so comfortably here in the grass," mumbles the old man at last.

Just as he is about to stand up, with the help of a branch on the tree, the dog runs forward and bites the stick lying in the grass.

"Don’t touch it!" the old man roars, flailing his left arm while holding the branch with his right hand. The dog doesn't care and instead starts to walk backwards while dragging the stick with a mockingly look at the old man.

"Let go of it!" the man yells, making a desperate effort to get to his feet, but just as he's almost up, the branch snaps off and he falls to the ground again with a thud. The black dog now stands and stares at him as he hears the curses hail and barks a little as a way to answer them. Finally, they fall silent and the old man remains on his back in the warm grass with his head resting against a tree trunk and looking at the dog.

The black dog drops the stick and barks, wags his tail and turns and runs away. After only a few seconds, the black dog is completely gone and the old man lies wondering where he went.

After a while he thinks he can't stay in the grass anymore so he sits up. He is sitting there thinking about how he will be able to get back on his feet when he sees the stick.

Lucky the dog dropped the stick anyway, he thinks, reaching for it. He pushes the stick into the ground and manages to rise to his feet again. He reaches down and picks up the hat, slapping it against his legs to remove the dirt and grass he picked up from crawling on the ground just now.

He stands and thinks about which direction to take, but he comes to the conclusion that he should probably go in the direction the black dog ran.

When he has walked a little, his body begins to ache again and the man stops.

"Well, wouldn’t you know it" he mumbles, wondering if he should go back to the pleasant tree. After considering it for a while, he comes to the conclusion that it would probably be best if he continues his journey, wherever it leads.

He no longer feels stressed or chased but more curious. Hopefully he might get to meet the black dog again and he also thinks that next time they meet, he must give the dog a name in any case, regardless of whether it is his dog or not.

He leaves the field behind and comes up on a road. He hears a boy's voice and the sound of a bouncing ball and soon he can also see a boy having fun playing catch with himself.

The old man thinks that maybe it would be nice to talk to someone even if it is a child. When he approaches the boy, he hopes that it is not some spoiled brat who’s got his tongue caught by a cat. With heavy steps he walks up to the boy who doesn't notice the man. The boy has stopped and is now sitting on the brown ball with his back to him. The boy might be violent so he doesn't dare to go too close, so from a distance he holds out the stick and pokes the boy a little lightly in the back. The boy turns and with a big smile he greets kindly: "Hello! Who are you?"

"I don't know," the old man replies, somewhat surprised by the boy's cheerfulness.

"You don't need to know that," the boy says, smiling.

"I don’t?"

"No, you can live your life anyway."

“I can?”

"Well, what if you didn't know who you were and then you found out that you were a complete moron, then it would be better not knowing," the boy asks, smiling with a wide smile.

"You may be right about that," the old man replies, moving the stick from one hand to the other.

The boy gets up from the ball and looks at the old man and continues to smile. The old man stares at the boy but doesn't smile at all, instead he asks: "Why are you here all alone, don't you have any friends?"

"I don't know, I don't think so," the boy replies, shrugging his shoulders.

"What do you mean," the old man asks.

"I mean I rarely see any people here that I can call my friends, do you want to be my friend" the boy asks smiling.

"I don't think so, I'm not at all interested in ball sports or any sports at all for that matter. Then there is such a big age difference between us so I don't think we would have anything in common to talk about at all," the old man says.

"But we can create new memories together, we've already started," the boy says, throwing out his arms.

"Yes, maybe," the old man replies, and now he feels that he has to fight a smile.

After a while the boy says: "My name is Yossi, what's your name?"

"I don't know," the old man answers once more.

"Don't you have a name?"

"Well probably, I just can't remember what it is," the old man says somewhat annoyed.

"Then you can come up with a new name."

"Nonsense, you can't just do that, can you?"

"Why not," the boy asks. "You can do whatever you want, at least we kids can, we're not as boring as you adults."

"Nonsense," says the old man, who is starting to get even a little more annoyed with the boy.

"But if you had to choose a new name, what would it be?"

The old man thinks a little and says: "Walter".

"Walter," says Yossi, clapping his hands. "Absolutely excellent, Walter it is."

They both standing looking at each other for a while and the boy says: "What kind of adventure are you having Walter?

"Adventure?" Walter replies. "It doesn't always have to be an adventure, does it?"

"But it will be so much more fun and exciting, don't you think," the boy asks and picks up his ball.

"I’m not sure I'm looking for excitement at my age," Walter says.

"You're never too old for an adventure," the boy says and starts bouncing the ball so that the dust swirls around.

Walter mumbles something about the boy quitting bouncing his ball because he's getting dust in his eyes, but the boy doesn't hear him. Walter looks away along the road and then he says: "Where am I?"

"Don't you know that?" Yossi replies.

"Then I wouldn’t have asked," Walter replies annoyed.

"What does it matter where you are," the boy asks, stopping the ball under one foot.

"It might be good to know," Walter says, but as he does so he can admit to himself that the boy is right, that it doesn't really matter that much where he is.

"Will it be more fun if you know?”, the boy asks.

"Probably not," Walter replies.

"Well then," the boy says.

"But it seems I’m lost," Walter says, looking around.

"Do you have somewhere you need to be," the boy asks, smiling once more.

"No, maybe not," Walter replies, looking down at the ground.

"Then you're not lost," Yossi says and laughs.

"Never mind then," Walter says, who doesn't feel like continuing this game any longer.

The boy kicks the ball to the old man and he stops it with his foot, leans against the stick to keep his balance and then kicks it back to the boy again.

"See, you can do it," the boy says.

"Yes, it's not that difficult, but it's no fun either and now I actually have to go," Walter says.

"What a shame, I hope to see you again soon," the boy says and picks up the ball.

"Well, that remains to be seen," Walter mumbles as he goes on his way.

"Bye Walter!" the boy shouts, waving at the old man, but he doesn't turn to wave back.

It doesn't matter, the boy thinks and continues playing with his ball.

Chapter 3

She has reasonably nimble fingers, but she still has a lot to learn. It becomes obvious now that she is doing her best to strip the woman of her jewelry while she has to avoid being discovered. She jumps around and makes funny faces and at the same time fumbles with a deck of cards and then asks the woman to pick a card.

She sees that the woman is from the upper class with her beautiful dress and her precious jewelry. The woman's husband is standing some distance away and he doesn't seem as amused as his wife. She knows that it is not good that the man to stands there because then he can more easily discover what she is doing, so she takes the man under the arm and brings him closer to his wife.

Now they are standing next to each other and she puts her arm around the woman's shoulder and with a single movement she tries to untie her necklace. It fails miserably, so instead she quickly moves to take her hand and places the cards the woman just chose into it. When she releases her hand, she has managed to get one of the woman's rings and she quickly puts it in her trouser pocket.

Now it's the man's turn and she holds out the deck to him and he too draws a card, even though he still doesn't look particularly amused. She grabs the man's wrist with her right hand and closes the man's hand around the card he has chosen with her left. When she pulls her right hand away, she has taken his watch and because he is not to suspect anything, she laughs and does a little pirouette.

Now the pair each have a card in their hands and it is up to her to guess which card they chose. She puts one index finger to her chin and looks up and thinks for a moment, it's all part of the show.

"Three of spades," she says, smiling at the woman. That's right and the woman shows the card and applauds.

"Seven of diamonds," she says, looking at the man and he nods and hands the card back.

"Bravo!" the woman shouts and applauds again.

She curtseys to the wife and bows to the man and stretches out her arms and hugs the couple. Now she makes another attempt to untie the wife's necklace, but she fumbles to move the woman's hair away and she can't find the clasp to the necklace and then she is interrupted by a deafening scream.

"I've lost my ring!" the woman screams, releasing her grip.

"I think I know where it is," the man says.

She pushes the woman away and ducks a punch from the man and turns and starts running. The cards fly around her and for a brief moment the man tries to catch her, but he quickly gives up. She may not be very good at ripping off people's jewelry, but she can run.

She turns off the road and continues into the forest because she knows no one would catch up with her there. She turns and smiles when she sees the couple still standing by their horse and carriage. She gets away this time too and with a decent amount of change which she will pawn as soon as she gets into town.

She kicks a little in the gravel where she walks, but it makes so much dust that she stops after only a short while. Instead, she starts humming a melody she learned as a child. She gets happy when she thinks of it, so happy that she unconsciously starts to skip instead of just walking like a normal adult.

She stops and takes off her backpack and takes out a bottle of strawberry juice, which she takes a few sips of before putting it back. Refreshing, she notes and puts the bag on her back and walks on.

After a while, she meets a carriage on the road. The father holds the reins and the mother sitting next to her looks a little strangely at her as they pass. The children sitting in the back of the cart do not hold back at all, but laugh and point at her until the mother tells them that it is impolite to behave like that. It doesn't bother her, she happily waves back. There is a lot of dust after the carriage, so she quickly turns around to avoid getting dust on her face and risk ruining her make-up.

It's probably not that far to go now and that family are surely coming from the city she's going to. She's never been there, but Lisa has said it is a big enough city for their purpose and Lisa is usually right about such things.

She stops by an apple tree and takes the finest apple she sees. She rolls the fruit a little between her hands and then takes a big bite. The apple is very juicy and sweet so it serves her well as breakfast and provisions.

Now she can see the walls that go around the city on the horizon and she increases her pace slightly. She longs to see Lisa again because now it has been several weeks since the last time. They had agreed to carry out their plan on this particular day at this location, but Lisa probably doubts that she will show up. She will prove her wrong this time and hopefully surprise her, and that's always a little extra fun.

When she walks through the gates of the city, the guards look at her strangely. Some look almost angry while others laugh, she never knows what impression she will make on those she meets and she enjoys that.

The city is full of life and people of all ages crowd around the stalls and shops. The children play with everything imaginable, like sticks that turn into swords or pine cones that turn into different animals. She has always liked the imaginative mind of a child and that is exactly why she chose her profession. She passes a tavern where she sees mostly men drinking themselves mad, moaning and screaming. A shop with fabrics and yarn where the women stand together and consult each other about what might be worth spending money on and argue about which pattern is the most beautiful. One candy store full of children chomping on every imaginable delicacy that destroys their teeth but tastes so good.

In addition to humans, there are also animals in the form of horses, because it is the most common means of transportation, and dogs, because dogs are man's best friend and because they are good at breeding, and cats, because cats don't care about others than themselves and walk and jump and climb anywhere they want. There is also a market where they sell horses, cows, goats, chickens and sheep and after this day she will be able to afford to buy her own horse.

She stops at a notice board and there she can read the prices of the different horses. There are also price lists for the other animals, for various raw materials and other information. She reads that the town's mayor will be giving a speech this weekend and information about the annual harvest festival and a note about three children who have run away and one about a lost cat. When she has read everything of interest, she wanders on and dreams of the horse she is going to buy, hopefully tomorrow.

Now she arrives at the agreed meeting place and she sits on a fence and waits. She doesn't have to wait long before she feels someone grab her from behind and pull her backwards. She screams a little as she loses her balance but is caught in a big hug.

"So, you came?"

"Of course, I promised you that, even if I'm not so sure that this is the world’s greatest idea."

"That makes me so happy! You'll see, that things will go well, don't worry."

Lisa jumps up and sits next to her on the fence and says, "This is the plan so far."

"I'm listening," Clown says.

Chapter 4

The path he's been walking on splits so he stops for a while to consider which alternative he should choose. He puts his hand over his mouth and runs his fingers over his chin, then notices the stubble and states that he should shave as soon as possible.

In the end, he decides to take the right path at the same time as he mumbles something about all the choices you have to make in life.

When the old man has walked for a while, he sees an object lying by the side of the road. It's really muddy so it's hard to make out what it is so he pokes it a little with the stick without getting any wiser. Finally, he bends down and picks it up, again with great effort. Holding it in his hand, he gently scrapes the object with his thumb and chunks of clay come loose and fall to the ground. It's a pocketknife he's found.

He examines the knife closely and notes that he is very pleased with his find. He takes a firm grip on the stick, puts the pocketknife in the inside pocket of his jacket and walks on. When he has gone just a few more steps, he sees another object at the edge of the ditch. This time he sees immediately what it is and he is happy but at the same time a little suspicious because he starts to think about who has dropped these objects. Or has someone laid out a trail for him to follow? He looks around, but he is alone so finally he bends down and picks up the harmonica.

With the stick in his left hand and the harmonica in the right, he walks on while blowing the harmonica. Dust and dirt swirl from the instrument and he spit out some dirt that he gets in his mouth, but that won't stop him. It won't be a beautiful melody or maybe not even a beautiful note, but that doesn't matter. After a little practice, he actually manages to come up with something of a melody and then he smiles a little at his fortunate findings. He stops thinking about where the road leads because it doesn't matter because he enjoys the here and now quite well.

He sees a black bottle and he stops and looks at it. The cork is still in the bottle, but it sticks up a bit so someone probably already drank from it. The bottle is dark and heavy so he can't tell if it has any contents. He pulls on the cork but can't get a good grip so in the end he uses his teeth to help and then it comes loose. He wiggles the bottle a little, a little more and finally he turns it completely upside down only to find that it is completely empty. He puts back the cork, swears a little, and throws it back on the ground.

Typical, the old man thinks.

He hears some riders approaching from behind. He slowly turns around only to see two men in uniforms galloping past at breakneck speed. Soldiers, he realizes just as they pass and one of them yells at him to stay out of the way. The riders disappear in a cloud of dust and Walter is left standing around waiting for the dust to settle.

It doesn't hurt as much in his body now, he closes his eyes a little and the sun shines warmly on his wrinkled face, then he opens his eyes again and walks on.

He passes the green fields and after a while the road splits again and he chooses to turn off onto a smaller path through the forest.

In there I can get some shade and maybe I'll find something to chew on or drink, Walter thinks.

Once inside the forest, he hears a crow caw and a woodpecker peck, but he can't see any of the birds even though he scans the treetops intensively.

The sunlight shines through the foliage on the trees and various flowers of different colors grow on the ground. He also sees a few mushrooms here and there, but since he knows nothing about mushrooms, he does not dare to pick and eat them.

After walking on the path for a while, he sees a tin box on a rock. He walks over and picks up the box and twists and turns it over. It used to be red, but now it is rusty and the paint has come off a little here and there.

He tries to open it, but the lid is stuck and even though he grabs everything he can with his long, thin fingers, the lid won't budge at all. Then he realizes he just picked up a knife.

He sits down on the rock and puts the box in his lap and takes the knife out of his inner pocket. It is very dirty so he thinks he has to clean it, but that will have to wait.

He folds up the knife and puts the knife blade under the edge of the lid and pries. He has to do the same thing several times and each time he is careful not to cut himself in the thumb because wouldn’t an injured thumb just be the cherry on top of everything else. The lid finally opens with a crash and when he looks down into the box he smiles and looks wide-eyed at a pipe. He suddenly has a strong urge to smoke it when he realizes that he has neither tobacco nor matches. He gets up and looks around but cannot find the necessary ingredients to enjoy a good pipe.

As he stands there, he sees the remains of a campfire. Someone might have left the tin box there to come back to it later so he looks around but sees no one so he puts the pipe in his pocket and puts the tin box back on the stone.

He takes the stick and walks on, but he only gets a few steps before he sees yet another object lying on the ground. It is round and shiny and he walks up to it and sees that it is a pocket watch lying there. He picks it up and runs his finger over the glass to remove the dirt. He sees that the clockwork has stopped, he shakes it a little and thinks that he should probably keep it anyway. He pockets it as well and notices that his pockets are getting full now.

"Lots of different objects but no people", mumbles the old man and walks on. Then he sees a dark brown object lying some distance from the path. As he walks closer, he sees that it's a backpack lying out there on the marsh. He decides to look for what might be in it considering that the finds he has found so far have brought him great joy.

To get to the backpack, the old man has to climb over some rather large rocks and through moss. Anyway, he decides it's worth it because he's so curious to see what's hiding in the backpack. He loses his balance as he steps over the rocks and has to lean against a tree to keep from falling over. He steps down on the moss and discovers how soft and wet it is.

He reaches the backpack, picks it up and opens it with great excitement only to see that it is completely empty, or not completely, at the bottom is a black comb which the man picks up. He looks at it a bit, runs one finger over the teeth and then puts it back in his backpack.

Then he notices that the backpack has several small holes, that it is very worn and that it also has reddish spots in some places. Walter runs his finger over one of the stains and lightly licks his finger, but he can't quite identify the taste even though it tastes familiar. He gets an unpleasant feeling creeping over him and he looks around.

Then he notices that there is a long track leading from the backpack to the campsite. It looks as if something has been dragged across the moss. He's standing there wondering what could have happened when he hears a creaking sound from inside the forest, branches breaking and birds flying away in panic. He also notices that it is now completely quiet and still apart from the strange sound that seems to be getting closer and closer.

It doesn't take long for the old man to put the puzzle pieces together, so he says quietly to himself: "A bear", as he grabs the stick, turns and looks around.

His body becomes completely stiff and he has to make an effort to carefully go back the way he came. With as fast a step as he can manage, he first walks back across the moss and over the rocks, constantly turning around to see if he is being pursued.

When he is at the path again, he quickly increases his pace but continues to look around worriedly. When he comes out of the forest he is completely out of breath so he stops for a while and recovers and then he notices that his feet have become completely wet.

Typical, Walter thinks. All this toil and wet feet for this.

He looks at the torn backpack in his hand. In any case, it can be good enough to put things in. He throws the backpack over his back and grabs the stick again and walks on to the road. When he remembers that he just licked his finger in an attempt to identify it the red liquid he spits a little too even though he realizes it's already too late for that.

Now he's getting really hungry and above all thirsty, but he can't see anything to drink or even less to eat. He walks up to a large stone by the side of the road, leans the stick against the stone and sits down. He places one foot in his lap and unlaces his shoe. He takes off the shoe which is completely wet and drops it to the ground, takes off the wet sock and wiggles his toes. He does the same with the other foot and then he puts the socks and shoes beside him on the stone to dry in the sunlight.

He takes off his hat, wipes the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, runs his fingers through his gray hair a couple of times, and notes that he would need a haircut. He puts the backpack on his lap and fishes out the comb and runs it through his hair a couple of times, puts his hat back on and puts the comb back in the backpack. He picks up the knife and unfolds it. The blade appears completely intact and shines beautifully in the sunlight.

He drags his thumbnail over the handle a bit to remove more dirt. Spits on it and rubs his thumb over the patterned surface. The handle is black, but the pattern is gilded in the shape of a bird of some kind. Walter doesn't know much about birds so he can't identify the pattern beyond that. He picks up the stick and carves away all the bark and carves a nice handle. He goes over the cane again and scrapes it with the knife so that it is completely free of sticks and the surface is smooth, then he puts down the cane again. He continues to polish the handle of the knife until all the dirt is gone and folds the knife and puts it in his backpack. Next, he picks up his pocket watch, rubs his thumb a little over the dial. He puts the watch to his ear and shakes it only to find that it still doesn't work, but he corrects himself thinking that at least it shows the correct time twice a day, then he puts that too in his backpack. Finally, he takes up the harmonica once more and does his best to produce a pleasant melody, which he himself considers he succeeds quite well. After sitting there on the rock for a long time playing his harmonica, he realizes that it might be foolish to lure the bear like that, so he takes it from his dry lips and puts it in his backpack. He puts on his dry socks, then laces up his shoes and stands up with the help of his fine cane.

Walter feels his stomach rumble and he squints away down the road. Then he sees a large wooden sign shaped like an arrow. Mansion, he reads. He puts his hand to his forehead and covers his eyes against the sun, scanning down the road in the direction of the arrow. Then he sees that far away there is a house, a big house, a mansion even.

There must be some people there to talk to, and maybe I can even get something to drink and some food, he thinks.