Solitude

by Beth Laster

Once upon a time, when the country (as we know it) was young, on man got sick of the hubbub around him. He would walk down the streets, content, until his thoughts were shattered by the inane chirping of those around him. He would try to sleep at night to escape into his dreams. That would work until the drunks spilled into the streets, crowing loudly, on their way home from the bars. He was never free from the sound of hooves on hard stone or peddlers hawking their wares in the streets. Visitors would come to his door, but he never had anything to say to them, so he would make excuses to get out of conversation.

Finally he decided to go out West. He would live alone, find his fortune, find his destiny. Those who knew him were sad of his leaving and he feigned sadness to spare their feelings. Inside he felt happiness, real happiness, for the first time in his life. He packed up his belongings and took coaches as far as he could. When he could go no further by coach, he bought a horse. He wanted the horse to be free, so he did not name it. The horse would not be tethered to him. It would be known as Horse and Horse would know him as Man. Nothing more.

They rode for many weeks, stopping at night to lay under the stars, listening to the sounds. Man loved these sounds. These were not the sounds of civilization. These were not the sounds of others' thoughts or ideas being forced upon him. The owls cared little for his presence. He was only a meal to the coyotes. He was nothing to the wind. After Man and Horse had traveled far, they finally stopped and Man built his home. This was where he would stay for the rest of his life. He let Horse go free, to endlessly run in the open spaces.

One day, another man in the city decided to come out West. He wanted to find his fortune, thought a man could do that in such new territory. He traveled for weeks and weeks. Finally, he found the place where he wanted to live. He built a home, where he would live the rest of his days. He met Man one day, and visited him from time to time after that. Man would not encourage the visits, but he could not bring himself to be hostile to the man either.

Many more men came out West, seeking their fortune. But the West was wide. Man did not come upon other men often. His neighbor started missing his woman and his kids, so he made arrangements to bring them out West. Everything was good, for a time. Man would occasionally hear the crying of a child on the wind, but it was a sound he could bear. He did not, after all, have to talk to the child or take away the child's pain. Man's neighbor would sometimes fight with his woman and the neighbor would feel lonely again. The neighbor would visit Man, but Man was of little comfort to him. Soon Man's neighbor started encouraging other men to move closer, as he had found the best possible place to live and he wanted for company.

Man soon found he had many neighbors. The neighbors tried to get him to join them, but he was happy where he was. The neighbors formed a village, that grew into a town, that became a city. Man observed all this, worried for his solitary existence. Everyone forgot about Man, and the city grew up around his house. Nobody came to see Man. In the street, nobody looked at Man. Man was forgotten. The drunks cared little for Man. To the peddlers, he was no more than a meal ticket. To the streets and the buildings, he was nothing. No one had any thoughts or ideas or judgments about Man. This made Man very happy. He was free from all around him and he lived the rest of his days in the house in the city.