Hertzan Chimera 2019 Short Stories #1: A FRIEND LIKE ME...

He sat down beside me. That day. Just a random fella. Big beard. Big coat. Asked me if I'd like to share his three cans of beer, he didn't call it that.

"Three into two won't go," I nearly said. Instead, I politely declined his offer of 'beverage' with a barely raised hand.

So he continued to drink. Sat next to me. He'd slurp on his cans. One and then the next. Wipe his beard with a greasy backhand, "I knew you once," he cracked open his final can of beer.

"Knew you once," he said again, hand to beard. Called me 'Captain'. It wasn't here, of course, he added with a sly look in his eye and a subtle shake of his head. It was some other place, he added, quite a long way away.  That was how he put it 'quite a long way away'. Then he left it like that, in the air, for a few shared moments. The Christchurch bells rang across town. The clouds moved slowly, in the sky.

I could smell his beery breath. It took me a while to realise he'd sidled up a little closer to me. Squinting right into my face, he was. His left eye screwed up into his cheek in a grotesque mask of analysis.

"Yup," he'd know that face anywhere. But he didn't say anything further. Got to his feet with a long groan like the years had truly taken their toll upon his body.

"I'll not tell anyone I've seen you," was his final parting shot. And then he was gone.

And I continued to sit there, underneath the Martyrs Monument in central Oxford, haunted by the knowledge that I'd just witnessed the passing of the Leviathan and I'd lived to tell the tale. For the moment, I was safe. But for how long?