The Storyteller (Part Three)

"There was no trace of bitterness in the flavor." he stated. "Nor did I experience any kind of tingling sensation in my tongue or lips. And I waited a reasonable time before I took that first bite." he closed his eyes and tilted his head to one side, a look of sheer bliss on his face. "I almost wilted from the pleasure of tasting it fully." he whispered.

"I quickly pried the pit out of the second half and devoured it as well." he said, eyes still closed. "Then I propped my gun against the trunk of a hickory tree and started feasting on those wonderful berries."

"I don't know how long I stood there gorging myself on them, but before I could leave I had to make sure I was taking as many as I could possibly carry." He opened his eyes and leaned back.

"I filled both coat pockets, then picked as many as I could carry in my left hand cradled against the front of my coat." he said, holding his left hand cupped against the front of his shirt to demonstrate. "Oh and I was still devouring every third or fourth one, spitting the pits on the ground."

"Finally satisfied that I could carry no more I picked my gun up and cradled it in the bend of my arm." he paused to take a big swig of his drink. "I was reluctant to turn and walk away." he added with a troubled look, then his eyes widened as he spoke to the open air of the room. "Then the damnedest thing happened."

"I hadn't taken more than three or four steps when I heard a crackling sound behind me." he paused again to take another long drink from his glass. "When I turned around I was shocked to find that all the leaves had turned dark brown and were falling to the ground. The berries were shriveling up before my very eyes, turning hard and black before dropping off."

"Some of the berries actually split open and the pits popped out. They sounded like stones falling on the ground. I watched as one hit a rock and split open."

"It felt like something was crawling around in my hand and I looked down to find the berries I had picked were also shriveling up. I dropped them, watching as they scattered on the ground at my feet, the only thought going through my mind was 'You're going to die, Ben!'"

"Dropping my gun to the ground I shoved both hands into my coat pockets and pulled out a double fist full of dried berries. As I stood there in total shock watching them spill through my fingers I realized everything was beginning to tilt. I was falling."

"I felt no disorientation." he said, looking up at me. In his eyes I could see the sadness and confusion. "In fact. . . " he continued, "I had no feeling at all, not even when I hit the ground."

"As I laid there, looking up through the tops of the trees at the blue sky, there was little doubt in my mind that I was dying. I could hear my heart pounding and my eyes were filling with tears that I couldn't blink away." He held is drink with trembling hands and I watched the tears trail down his cheeks and deposit themselves in his beard.

I felt silly when I realized how his tears and the tone of his voice had truly choked me up. But I genuinely felt sorry for the old guy.

He held his silence for a few moments, while he tried to compose himself enough to go on. When he looked back up at me, the wet streaks on his cheeks glistened from the lights overhead."Suddenly there was a voice." he said with a bewildered look. "It seemed to be coming from right in front of me, but there was no one there. . ." his words drifted off, his stare seemed to pass right through me into the void of shadows behind me.

After a long silence I asked, "What did the voice say Ben?"

"It said..." his eyes refocused on my face, "'Death has not come to claim you yet.' And then I lost consciousness."