“Hallo, good friend,” he greeted the stranger.
“Hallo, Markus,” said the stranger.
“Won’t you come in.”
“Thank you dear friend.”
“I would get you some tea,” he said. “But my daughter, Sarah must be outside.”
“Don’t worry yourself. I will get it myself.”
Markus felt a warmness next to his face. He could hear a kettle being filled with water and then placed on the old iron wood stove. A fire was lit in the fireplace.
“I hope you don’t mind, Markus,” said the stranger. “That I have prepared a fire.”
“Not at all,” he said. “One was probably needed. It’s nice to get visitors. I don’t get them often. What do I owe this pleasure, Archibal?”
“I have been on a journey,” said Archibal. “Please, take a sit.”
Markus felt the door closing on its own.
“Take my hand, Markus,” said Archibal.
“Thank you,” he stretched out his hand which Archibal took and guided him to a chair by the fireplace.
By the light, Archibal noticed that Markus’s hair had turned white by age. His visage had withered, but he still looked like the old General he had fought with in the war. A strip of white, thin cloth was wrapped around his eyes, like a blindfold. It covered the scars he had suffered during the battle, but Archibal didn’t have to be told that Markus was permanently blind. Markus would only say it was temporary. He believed he would someday regain his sight, most people didn’t argue with him. http://www.ontalkingterms.com/