FICTION: The Story of Bob and Mathilda

Once upon a time there lived, in a tiny little cave by the edge of the sea, an old hermit named Bob, who loved an old wizardress who lived further down the shore named Mathilda.

Now Bob had loved Mathilda secretly in his heart for many years, but had never had the courage to tell her of his love for her. As far as he knew, she just thought him another long haired weirdo living at the beach.

But, secretly, Mathilda had had a crush on Bob since, oh, before you were born, and had always wanted him to be the first to make a move, but he never had.

So Bob sat in his cave, wishing humanity would pay him more respect, and Mathilda brewed and ensorcelled in her cave, hoping to make the Philosopher’s Stone, and while both of them were always exceeding polite to each other, neither one of them ever made the first move.

Until one day, May the 31st, I believe it was, of that faithful year when February had 30 days and pigs were seen on the wing, that a Stranger wandered through the sandy beach, and settled himself in a grass shack equidistant between Bob and Mathilda’s homes in the monstrous cliff faces.

The Stranger gathered up an armful of faggots that he gathered down by the ocean, and, digging a small hole outside his shack, proceeded to build himself a fire. First he put the faggots in the pit, and then, rubbing some sticks together like magic, he produced a flame from the heat of their friction. Taking the now smoldering branch, he lit the faggots, and proceeded to add on larger pieces of wood. Soon, he had a huge blaze going, blotting out the sky with its brilliance. The flickers of firelight danced on the cliff walls, and on the Stranger’s upturned face.

Mathilda was the first one to see the great fire that the Stranger made. She would normally never do something to draw attention to herself like make a bonfire, and at first, she thought to herself “Who does he think he is, to make such a bonfire out in public?” But then she saw how warm and inviting it was, and finally got the courage to go out and warm herself by the bonfire.

She approached tentatively. “Hello, stranger”

“Hello there,” replied the Stranger, “I didn’t know I had neighbors.”

“Well, you do.”

“Please, warm yourself by my fire.” She did. “I’m Abacus, a wandering mathematician.”

“Mathilda, I’m a sorceress.”

“A pleasure, Mathilda.”

Just at that moment, in his own cave, Bob happened to glance out his door, and noticed the fire, and the stranger, and Mathilda. And he got enraged, and jealous. “Why’s she talking to that stranger who had the presumption to light a fire out in front of MY cave? Why, I’ve known her for years, and we’ve never talked. Why, I oughta go down there and teach that guy a thing or two.”

And so, emboldened by his jealous anger, Bob went out from his cave, and made his way down the beach to where the Stranger and Mathilda were enjoying themselves in front of the fire.

“Excuse me,” said Bob as he approached the hut and the fire, and the two, ”but I couldn’t help but notice your fire here.”

“Yes,” said the Stranger, “please, come here and enjoy it. It’s for the good of all. I’m Abacus,” he said, extending his hand.

Bob left his hands where they were: tucked into his armpits.

“Where are you from?” Bob asked.

“If you come over here and enjoy the hospitality of my fire, maybe I’ll tell you a little,” replied Abacus.

Bob finally begrudgingly took Abacus’ hand, and settled in next to the fire. There was a certain twinkle in Mathilda’s eyes while she watched all of this unfold.

“Well,” began the stranger, “it’s a long story, and one I’ve not often told.”

“Oh, please do tell us,” pleaded Mathilda.

Bob just looked over at her. ‘She never asked me to tell her anything,’ he thought to himself resentfully.

So Abacus told his story, and it lasted many days in the telling, and the whole time Bob and Mathilda sat, enraptured by the tale, and they slowly moved nearer each other, until they clutched each other during the frightening parts, and laughed together during the funny ones. They began to make eye contact between each other, and began to feel comfortable together.
“…and so, I ended up here, on this beach. I thought this part of the world was deserted, to tell you the truth. But I’m glad I ran into you guys, you seem like decent folk.,” finished up Abacus.

“Wow,” said Bob.

“That was some story,” said Mathilda.

The stranger just looked at both of them with an odd gleam in his eye, and a slight smile upon his lip.

“Just look at the two of you.”

They did. They noticed they had their arms around each other. Embarrassed, they dropped their arms.

“Now you’ve stopped. And you’ll probably just go back to the way it was, too. Both of you afraid to leave your caves and meet each other, even though you probably have more in common with each other than anyone else.”

Bob and Mathilda just looked at each other.

“Sometimes you have to leave the cave. Behold!”

And with that, the sun rose beautiful, over the water, all red and orange and yellow. You couldn’t tell where the sky began and the ocean ended.

Bob looked over at Mathilda, and saw the orange glow of morning lighting her face with an ethereal glow. “Mathilda,” he began.

Mathilda looked at him, and saw his beard, and his rags, but a deep intelligence and sensitivity in his eyes, and felt something in her heart that she had never felt before. “Yes?” she replied.

“I’ve always loved you. Since the beginning. I… I just never had the courage to tell you.”

She blushed, reached down, and touched his hand.

“Me neither,” she replied.

Slowly, the two of them moved together, awkwardly, and kissed. It lasted for a long while.

When they finally looked up, the Stranger was nowhere to be seen. The grass hut, neither.

Many years later, I heard that that stretch of beach had a whole bunch of little hermits and wizardresses running along it, all living in the caves there, but I never saw the place then, and that’s only a rumor so far as I know.