Welcome to Gaia! :: View User's Journal | Gaia Journals

I've had this little short story nagging at the back of my head for at least a week now so I decided to write it down. What it means? I don't know. I like to think that everything has meaning to it and the fact that I can't think of what this means is kind of troublesome. Anywho enough rambling. I present thee with The Man and the Bandit.


In some nameless part of the world, a man whose name isn't worth mentioning left his nameless job and headed towards his home in a nameless section of town. The ride home was just that, a ride home. Nothing eventful, then again nothing in this mans life rarely ever was. He reached his home, parked the car and fed his dog. Shuffling through his mail he saw nothing of interest and headed towards his favorite part of the house. His bathroom. It was in this bathroom where he allowed his inhibitions of society to leave themselves of the door and he enjoyed to toke on marijuana not caring what anyone thought. He never could understand why he preferred the bathroom, it just was and he was ok with it. Once inside he began his daily ritual of opening the window and and turning on the fan then settling into his favorite niche of the bathtub to relax. He couldn't explain this ritual, it just was and he was ok with that. He barley pulled out his lighter when he became aware of the fact of the door to his house opening. At first freezing at fear of a robbery, he slowly stood up and turned off the light and the fan and sat against the bottom of the door listening to the sounds of his house. He never heard the man come up the steps leading towards the bathroom, but he was suddenly aware that he was standing there on the other side of the door and that he knew he was sitting there.
"What are you doing in my house?" he asked shakily. He heard a soft chuckle and the unmistakable sounds of someone sitting down.
"Why I'm the Bandit. And I'm here to talk to you." the voice that responded was neither deep nor high, it was just as plain as the white wall tiles on the floor he was sitting on. The hairs on the back of the mans neck stood up as he thought best how to respond. The Bandit didn't give him the chance to. " No need to be frightened. I'm not here to frighten, kill or harm you. If that were the case I wouldn't have bothered coming through the door and would have just put a bomb somewhere. No, I'm just here to talk. Don't ask who sent me because I couldn't answer that for I don't know the answer." The man became angry that this man was intruding in his home and wouldn't leave. " I don't wish to talk to you, I want you to leave. " Cautiously he reached up and locked the door. He heard the Bandit emit a soft chuckle on the other end of the door. " Didn't I already tell you that I'm not here to hurt you? In all serious I'm just here to talk." Angrily the man slammed his fist on the door. " And I told you that I don't want to talk. You are to leave my house immediatley. Even if you don't the authorities shall be here soon enough, I called them the moment I heard you open the door." He smilid triumphantly at his little rouse confident the man would finally leave.
" Your not getting rid of me that easily. I know you don't have a phone and I know you wouldn't call the police. You wouldn't want them to know about your little habit now would you? " Anger was replaced by fear as the man looked around for any cameras that could be in his bathroom. Getting up off the floor now that the door was locked he began to look around cautiously. There wasn't much really to see, aside from his bathtub there naught but a little electric heater and a sink with a mirror inside the bathroom.
"Happy now?"the man asked, clearly getting agitated. " I told you twice and I'll tell you again. I'm just here to talk." The man whipped around towards the door. " Then talk damn you, or leave! You can keep saying that you 'wish to talk' again and again like a broken record. Say what it is you have to say then leave my house!"
"No need to get testy. We're not here to talk about me, the antagonist of this tragedy is you my friend. Tell me, why is it that you smoke that?" Caught off guard the man remembered the marijuana he held clenched in his left hand. " Because I enjoy it. Why do you care?"
" I don't care about the act itself. It's the knowledge of why that I care. I like to know these things about people. What drives them, what causes them to do the things they do." The man leaned his head against the door trying to see through the crack in the door. All he saw was empty hallway.
"Who are you?!". His range of vision was limited so where the intruder was it was out of his range of sight.
"I already told you. I'm the Bandit, and I'm here to talk"