The Man Across the Lake

He sat across the street with his grey beard on the park bench without saying a word. I didn’t know who the man was or what he was doing there. He was just sitting. The overcast weather made today feel different than most days in this town. The man on the bench wore a large heavy black coat and muddy hiking boots. A red hat was perched atop his fuzzy head and he appeared to be alone. I figured no one was coming to pick him up. I figured he liked to be alone. I figured there had to be someone out there that was missing him at this very moment.

The old man had a whole loaf of bread and he was ripping small pieces of the bread and throwing them across the overlooking lake and I watched as the ducks swarmed the pieces of bread wanting to get a bite. It was then when I heard the man talk, “Don’t worry, everyone will get a little something.” He laughed to himself and it was then when I thought the poor man was going crazy. Who talks to ducks like people? No one as far as I know.

I watched from across the lake with my cold hands in my pockets as the icy touch of winter nipped at my skin. A chill echoed down my spine and I pulled my hood over my head. Every day I came here and watched that man feed the ducks. Every day he did the same routine. Come at dawn, feed the ducks, talk to himself, and then leave at sunset. It seemed to be a lonely life.

The frozen water was dark and dull by my feet. I missed the days when the water was quietly splashing against the dirt as the shimmering reflections danced back in forth. Where was the life in the water today?

Somehow I couldn’t find out what brought me to the fascination to the old man across the lake always feeding ducks. Maybe I was going crazy too.

The next day, I returned this time around lunch and the man was there again. This time, the ducks were gone and the sun was slowly peaking from the clouds that had overrun the town for the past few days. It wasn’t much warmth since the wind was harshly whipping through the air. He didn’t have bread today and I wondered why this time he didn’t.

Soon after, I snuck out before sun rise and I set a loaf of bread along with a breakfast from McDonald’s onto the bench across the lake from my usual spot. McDonald’s was all I could afford so I hoped the man would like it. On the bag, I had placed a yellow sticky note saying: For You. I didn’t waste any time and I struggled to see through the dark morning. When the sun began to poke through the horizon, I ran as fast as I could back to the cold bench where I usually sat and I waited and watched.

As usual and right on schedule, the bearded man sat on his bench and he looked at the bag strangely as if it was foreign to him. The distance between us was great but I felt as if we had known each other for years. I watched as the man opened the bag and pulled out the food inside. He ate it and seemed to be momentarily happy. Time passed and he had devoured everything in the bag and it was then when his old eyes dropped to the loaf of bread. Soon enough, he began to feed the ducks and recede back into his shell of comfort.

This was sweet. I like the simplicity of the story, how it was just one little act of kindness that brought a spark of happiness to the man. I'm not sure whether he was homeless or not; at first I didn't think so, I thought he was just a lonely old man who comes to the lake because there's nothing else for him to do, but then the fact that the MC bought him some food and bread for the ducks makes me wonder.

Also, I find that the MC is more interesting than the old man. Sure, he may be the one talking to ducks, but the MC is the one who's watching the old man feed ducks every day. I found this a little creepy at first, until the MC's act of kindness helped to alleviate the stalker-visage I was beginning to attribute to them.

So, overall, there's really nothing for me to nitpick on or anything. Your grammar and spelling's all good, and the story itself is short, simple, and sweet. Keep up the good work! (:

I loved this. I like the shortness and structure of the story, and it had inspired me to write something like this.
The man is interesting indeed; feeding ducks and being alone. As Ranger has mentioned, I also find the MC more interesting than the man. My first impression was "Stalker", but as I read on I started feeling that this was the type of man I would watch myself.
I could find no spelling or grammar errors, and nothing for me to pick on.

Keep up the good work!

-Tuck

First paragraph: “I didn’t know who the man was or what he was doing there.” Change the “or” to “nor”. Remember: either or; neither nor.

Okay, done now and wow... just wow. You do so much with so little. I want to know more about the old man with the red hat. I can’t say this is a story, more like a vignette. I reviewed a vignette yesterday as well, but it didn’t feel quite so... complete. This is just a leather pouch containing a ball of sunshine small enough to fit into your hands and cover up the light.

I’m not sure my metaphor makes much sense, but that’s what I feel about this little work: it’s short, it’s fascinating, it’s completely and yet I want more. It’s just sweet, and curious, but wrapped up in a very unassuming way. It’s just beautiful.

I won’t say it’s perfect, because that means I’d have to defend it, but aside from maybe a little grammar issue here or there (I only saw one really glaring one that I addressed at the beginning) it’s just fine the way it is. You could expand on the story... but I’m not sure you need to. I want to know more about the old man with the red hat, but there’s something peaceful about helping him, but not interrupting him. There’s something peaceful about reading about him, wondering who he is and what he does, but being content with not knowing.

I don’t think I’m explaining myself well very much, but I really do love this. It’s short, sweet, and just about perfect from what I can see.

Short and simple for most of it. Wonderfully pieced together. I enjoy your writing style and I admire you for being able to write something so small and simple. In my opinion, it's one of the greatest gift of a writer to be concise. Firstly, I love in the first paragraph when you write

I figured no one was coming to pick him up. I figured he liked to be alone. I figured there had to be someone out there that was missing him at this very moment.

The first sentence there really confused me. I thought, how wwould he know that? But the sencond sentence was very power. It suggested to me that the narrator could relate to the man, because he recognized that he didn't like people. He didn't know much about, it could have been a million other things, yet the narrator comes a conclusion of what he thinks of him. Then the third sentence confued me a bit again. It may not need further explaining, but if you have anything you think you could add to further explain what the narrator is suggeting. But that's just the thing, that the narrator is suggesting such things tell the reader so much about the narrator. Like he sees a reflection of himself in this old man. In the second paragraph, I found that the narrator remarking that only crazy people talked to ducks like they were people was a stretched, untrue statement, but looking closer, it's possilble that the narrator is almost beating himself up for acting similar. Not that the narrator talks to ducks, but that, again, he sees himself in this old man and he feels this self doubt in how he acts, how the old man acts. The idea of that isn't apparent enough in my opinion, maybe if you add something there. Anyways, just suggestions. The story is very nice, has good structure, and makes the reader feel good about human nature. Its almost too simplea story for my taste, and I expected symbolism in it because of how simple it was. But I must say the lack of symbolism is a relief, I find that short simple stories often are overwriten with symbolism.
One last nitpick and I'm done. In the third paragraph, which has great description and imagry, you use the words

...icy touch of winter nipped at my skin.

to describe the cold, and don't get me wrong I love that way of describing it, but that's personification and unless you want to go further with the image of winter being "alive" then I wouldn't have it there at all. On the other hand, it give the reader more direct imagry and feeling in the writing. It creates the idea that the cold is moving and has intent and with the word "touch" you suggest that maybe the winter is kind, perhaps misunderstood. I'm probably just reading into this too far, because it common to personify winter and the cold and I'd probably do the same thing as you did, but I just thought I'd alert you of the different levels of writing you could be working on, and if you were already aware then I apologize for wasting your time.
If you read all this I congradulate you. All these are just suggestions, and quite frankly your story is very good the way it is. I feel that you gotjust the right amount of information across about the old man to make the reader facinated, and as well using the narrator's thoughts to help define the old man was also very interesting. It gave the reader enough to work with and keep reading. I'm just suggesting how you might be able to make it better. Thanks for reading.

~ ZAN@the agent of death.the garden ~