The Secluded Man

Present Day

11:23 A.m

The quiet downpour is a welcoming sound. The thousands of beautiful ripples caress each lake, each puddle and each river. Each rain drop takes its turn sliding down the abundant, lush array of trees. The admirable mountainous landscapes in the distance fogged out from the rain, makes for a warm sight. Open from above, the fresh water progresses down a stream into a radiant pond. Above, a man watches. Two blues eyes masked by reading glasses. This tall slender man watches from above. A large window stands in front of him. A freshly brewed cup of coffee lay in between his hands, with just the right amount of sugar and cream added. He can only take so many sips before it is gone. Dressed in his usual comfortable attire, this lone man stands there and watches. His ears take in every sound around him, as if it is one of his most cherished songs. His eyes take in the grey skies and the fertile green trees as if the sight is one of his favourite movies. He could not ask for more. He watches, studies and observes the lands from his window. It is all such a serene and tranquil aurora to The Secluded Man. Accompanying him, something brushes up beside the man's knee. A large white Alaskan Malamute entitled Echo. His blue eyes and his vigilant ears have studied and explored the vast area around his home in this isolated lodge. Every valley, ridge, pond or hill has Echo's paw print attached. His thick coat of white will follow The Secluded Man almost anywhere. Surrounding The Secluded Man and his loyal hound, stands a sturdy, elegant mountain side lodge. Built with the most extravagant timber, this dark wood consumes him. The floors, the walls, the ceilings all made from this lavish rosewood. A dark brown shade escorted by running streaks of rich red dominate this cabin located in solitude. After admiring, he ponderously walks out of the previous room and into the next. He takes a seat in front of the state of the art Baldwin BH275. A ebony grand piano ready to sing at his finger tips.

Each and every spike of each and every key, up and down this piano makes for a comforting and peaceful sound. The melodies ricochet off of the rosewood and bounce around in this quaint and engrossing foyer. The sounds shower over the man as well as Echo like a warm blanket. His fingers graze the high keys while his left hand strikes the dark, bold low ones. He has created such a sound and such a melody uncreated by any normal man.

Upon venturing into his study, he takes hold of another pair of reading glasses. These ones are very darkly tinted making his eyes blind to everyone. He equips them and turns to Echo. Echo seats himself upright, facing The Secluded Man. He begins to fondle Echo. His hands run down the back of his head as he starts to scratch. The Secluded Man speaks.

"My cloth"

Echo is quick to turn away to exit the room. His keen eye and intelligent brain needs no more than a few words to know what to look for. The Secluded Man turns back deeper into his study. A 48" x 48"canvas sits on an easel in between two rosewood bookshelves. Each shelf stocked with endless volumes of William Shakespeare, Geoffrey Chaucer, James Audubon and many more. Nestled up in between Shakespeare's treasures and Audubon's masterpieces lay the ever so expensive : The Codex Leicester by one, Leonardo Da Vinci.

With the return of Echo and his painters cloth, The Secluded Man begins. Within a few swipes, the illuminated colours dash onto the canvas. The saturation starts to come together more and more as he combines colours and adds them to various places. He begins to create more of a bold shade on his pallet. He swings over and displays a grey arch. Behind this grey arch lies a forest. Complete with trees, rivers, flowers, distant mountains and above all else, rain. As the pictures comes together, this grey arch looks more like a rock. A statue that has been moulded into some sort of semi circle that appears to be sticking out of the ground. As The Secluded Man adds the finishing touches to this visual feast, this grey arch has a date written on it. March 21st 1446 - March 21st 2019. As he puts down the brush and palette, he marvels over his painting and commences to accept the fact that that is the date he was "born" and that is the day he will die because that grey arch, is a tombstone. As he turns away and walks into his kitchen, he stops by the wall directly right of him. A calendar is pinned up. He slides his finger the to current day. The hours lie on the 20th of March, year 2019. Making tomorrow his birthday and his death day.

How does one man achieve such an ability to posses an instrument like none other? How does one man paint such a visually stunning picture unlike any other? How can one man have access such knowledge and power? The Secluded Man is a very special, complex specimen on this very earth. With that being said, if known by any, very few would go as far as calling him a "man". Unseen by all, he roamed in the shadows, spoke in hushed tone, and basically existed in obscurity. None the less he has a mission. A mission that in his mind, he completed. A mission that will inevitably be the cause of death, in exactly 12.6 hours.

A life form. Sent from somewhere by someone to achieve something. Deep, through the vast tunnels, atmospheres and sectors this specimen traversed through the final frontier. Taking the form of the common face on earth, he quickly mended himself to learn the ways of humanity. Through his years of existence on earth, the information he had gathered was limitless. His task could have been as simple as gathering a few things or as complex as finding exact key pieces of information. However his mission was given to him, he had the gifts to do it. He had the gift to vision the future. The uprising of some nations and the downfalls of others. He had visions of certain people dieing and certain people being born. When? Where? They weren't that detailed. Whether the vision may have been good or bad, The Secluded Man did nothing about it. Toying with fate could change everything and he wasn't prepared for that. The only way for him to fully complete his mission was to die.

"Go Echo. I need flowers. Red, Blue, White. Any flower you can find. Go now and return when you have many"

The Secluded Man lets Echo sniff some fresh tulips sitting in a vase. As he finishes up the scent, he knows his task. Echo is much more than a loyal companion to The Secluded Man. He encountered Echo during his final decade of existence. One of his tasks was to understand the human brain. With that comes many aspects. Echo had been the only living thing that The Secluded Man grew attached too. He had loved that dog and because of Echo, he had understood love. After being on this planet for many centuries, studying the human race and hacking into the intricacies and psychological patterns of the mind and body, he feels as if he finally understands.

He was sent to watch the human race. To watch their actions, to read their thoughts and to ultimately find out if they are ready for the future. As of now The Secluded Man is done. He has come to his conclusion. He has completed this task and is finally ready to report back with his verdict. No, the human race is not ready to evolve. They are not ready to achieve such a landmark in history that so many other races have. They are not intelligent enough to understand the big picture. They are not willing to stop their petty civil wars and hunger for power to be on the brink of such knowledge. Now is the time. The final frontier is ready and waiting. Carelessly, the species has pushed them selves back decades of progress and exploration into the unknown. Which bears the question. When the human race is ready to evolve as a whole, will the final frontier still be?

Before setting off back to his home, he does the only thing he wants before leaving. A good meal. During his exploration into the human race the only good thing that came out of it was there ability for food. He has grown a liking for it and hopes to enjoy his last meal. He takes a seat by his mahogany framed glass dining table with a 16oz cut of tender fillet mignon and a bottle of 1947's finest wine Chateau Cheval. In between every bite is a sip and in between every minute his life expectancy ticks down. His head slowly cocks to the side as he looks out at the moon. The quiet downpour is a welcoming sound. The thousands of beautiful ripples caress each lake, each puddle and each river. Each rain drop takes its turn sliding down the abundant, lush array of trees. The quiet downpour is a welcoming sound.