The man was predictable. He came in at half-past noon, wearing the same brown leather jacket, and black slacks which he apparently ironed daily, as they were always perfectly un-creased. And that brown leather jacket, I knew well. With it’s shiny polished metal buttons, always buttoned to one from the top. That jacket always looked brand new, but for the small rip in the left arm. In fact, it wasn’t just that the top-button was undone, but removed entirely, leaving only the hole where it used to be, sewn tightly shut.
I noticed these details over the years of Charlie Reese has been a regular to my little café in Brooklyn. Nothing too fancy that an out-of-towner would take notice to except rarely. No, the majority of my customers were regulars, the same people coming in year after year to chat and have a cup of coffee over a conversation. It’s a very casual atmosphere, and when someone new comes in, I usually take the time to get to know them a little. It was the end of December, 5 years ago when I first started seeing Mr. Reese in my restaurant. He was a portly, graying man, sitting alone in a booth reading the New York Times.
Turned out to be a very pleasant man. Fifty-six years old and apparently lived nearby, as I never saw him driving a car. He always came the same way, down the street from the west carrying a newspaper under his arm. If it was a slow day I’d be setting behind the counter watching people pass by outside, and there he’d come walking across the glass front to the café and inside. A smile always crossed onto his face when he walked in the door. As if walking through the front door was heaven. He even described it to me one time, why he always looked so bothered right before walking into the door.
“I am very receptive to the nature of people and places. And when I walk in the door here, I get a sense of kindness. It relaxes my soul.”
I was smiling for a week after that. It’s the kind of thing you don’t expect to hear, the kind of thing that would look good in a travel magazine about the fanciful and exotic spas around the world, not a dingy little café in Brooklyn.
He always kept to himself though. He always seemed so kind, but never talked to the other customers. Some tried to chat him up, but he seemed to ignore them, as if they weren’t even there. I had to comfort some of my regulars who thought he was a mean-spirited evil old man and threatened to stop coming by if he didn’t leave. But I reminded her that he’d never said an ill word towards another person in my café, and I couldn’t very well ban him if he didn’t want to talk to a gossipy old woman. Okay, so I didn’t tell her that part of it, but if I were him, I wouldn’t want to get caught up in her webs of gossip. Not that it didn’t stop her from having things to say about him, and nothing good.
But I never saw anything but kindness from Charlie. He always expressed an interest in the finer beauties of life. The little things that all these other folks seemed to carried away to notice. I must say it made me feel young inside to hear his enthusiasm. One day he told me he’d seen a butterfly perched on a wrought iron fence post surrounding a cemetery. You never see those in the city, some people having lived their entire lives in the city and never seen one. But Charley said he’d seen dozens.
“You know why?” Charlie would say when it was brought up, “because I notice these things. I admire the beauty of the butterfly. The rest could be in a swarm of butterflies and wouldn’t take a moment out of their schedules to stop and look at it.”
He’d always have this sad, faraway look his eyes when he spoke about these ‘other’ people. I figured he couldn’t believe how they were so oblivious to the small beauties of the world. And I must say, I may well have been one of those until I started talking to Charlie. I’d notice something out of ordinary, something small. Five red cars in a line at a stop light, the smell of burning wood in the winter when you walked by a house with the thin tendrils of smoke from the fire burning inside.
Those were the things Charlie cherished, and taught me to appreciate. Before, I was just a little lonely owner of a shabby little café. But now, I feel like a man who is aware of his world, and happy with his position in society. Every day, I hear of the lives of my customers, and share in their joys and sorrows. All this from a little old quiet man who used to come into my café by the name of Charlie Reese.
I remember one day he came in and smiled as he came in the door.
“Charlie’s here,” I remember calling back to the kitchen. That was all I needed to say when he came in, as he was very set in his routine. A cup of coffee with one sugar cube, two eggs over-medium with two slices of toast, and three slices of bacon. Not four, which was what we served on our menu, but three. If ever there were four slices of bacon on his plate, there’d be that one left untouched on his plate when he was finished.
I poured his cup of coffee and put it on a saucer with a sugar cube for him. I sat down with him as I often did, and we exchanged pleasantries a minute.
After sitting with him awhile I noticed that the second button was missing.
“What happened?” I asked.
He looked at me a bit perplexed a moment.
“Your second button, it’s missing.” I pointed to the spot on his perfect leather jacket, with just the top 2 buttons missing now.
“Oh!” he smiled as he recognized what I was talking about, “I almost forgot! Yes, the button,” he cleared his throat, “Well, I like to have something to keep my memories. And…” he shrugged, then looked me in the eyes and smiled, “I couldn’t think of something more fitting.”
Granted, it seems a tad peculiar to use buttons from such a nice coat like that, but that wasn’t what got I remembered most.
“Ad perpetuam memoriam,” he said as he stood to leave and saw the perplexed look on my face, “It’s latin. To the perpetual memory.”
With one last sip to drain his coffee cup, he placed it on the saucer. He smiled and nodded, and walked out the door and to the right, immediately out of sight the opposite direction he had always gone before.
On the table he had left a little round tin. I hadn’t noticed him place it there while talking to him. A bit confused, I opened it. Inside was the two missing buttons of his jacket, perfectly shining out at me. I smiled a little bit, seeing them. The missing pieces of his jacket that he wore every time he came into my little café.
There was also a folded piece of paper inside. I careful withdrew it from the tin and unfolded it. It was written in a very elegant scrawl.
Dear Jonathon,
I have enjoyed your company and conversation these last 3 years. Your friendship has truly been cherished, and will live on in my heart. I leave you now with the two buttons missing from my jacket as mementos. They are attached to two very special memories, and I hope you keep them well. There is also another gift I give to you lying on my seat. The day I first came into your café was when I caught the first. And yesterday was the day I caught the second. They have a great deal of sentimental value to me, and I give them to you, as I’m sure you can appreciate them. I will not be returning after this day. My life is taking me elsewhere. I wish you the best in your life, and remember to live with your eyes wide open.
Ad perpetuam memoriam,
Charles Reese
I folded the letter carefully and placed it back inside the tin alongside the buttons. I stood then and looked to the seat. Sure as he mentioned, there was something there. It two perfectly preserved butterflies. I almost shed a tear when I saw them. I smiled as I thought of the man who had come into my life and opened my eyes to the small beauties of the world. I may still be a modest man with a modest living, but I feel like a whole new person, ready for all that the world has to offer.
True to his word, I never saw him after that day. A part of me longed to see him, to thank him for the gifts I hold so close to my heart. I kept the butterflies and buttons in a display case on the back wall of the restaurant where there was a plague of golden letters reading ‘Ad perpetuam memoriam’. Anyone who asked about it would get the story of the man who changed my life.
It was only much later that I was to have any further insight into the man with two button holes sewn shut on his otherwise perfect leather jacket. I was watching the news late at night, drifting in and out of sleep when a news report came on.
“And once again police have been stumped by the serial killer known as the Memory Man. At a home in Buffalo, New York this time, a young girl was found murdered, the top button removed from their jacket, and with the chilling words that haunt investigators written in her blood on the wall above her body. Ad perpetuam memoriam. To the perpetual memory. Police claim he once again left behind no traces, and still have no leads to finding the man who committed these horrible crimes. Now eleven young girls killed. Back to Cindy in the studio.”
I slept well that night, just missing the evening news, and I dreamt of butterflies.
Author notes
I wrote this just between last night and today, and have only gone back through once to check for errors, so if you notice any, do please point them out. Also, this is my first post to SW, and first story I've finished writing in a long, long time.
A contest entry
- Back To Basics by Hinds.
165 points, ended January 17, 2007, 4 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - Your Best Work by beezy92.
160 points, ended February 7, 2007, 30 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - January StoryWrite New Members Contest by SW Greeters.
350 points, ended February 16, 2007, 37 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - Twisty Story by SmileFromGlasgow.
510 points, ended March 31, 2007, 16 entries
Honorable mention
• next story in this contest, remove from contest
Any and all critique and reactions appreciated.
Comments
1 - 13 of 13
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Thanks for your entry
I think this is a perfect combination of soft and cushy to bone chilling. Sort of a "Silence of the Lambs" sort of feel. I like the fact that you were able to leave me with a chill without any graphics of murder and mayhem. Just the simplicity of the fact that we don't always know who we are passing by.
Keep writing and best of luck in the contest. -
The detail is wonderful. It keeps the story moving. I also like how the speaker keeps talking about Charlie. You get the feeling that he's leading up to something in the beginning, which is good. (Such as "But I never saw anything but kindness from Charlie.") The twist at the end is excellent! It makes the whole beginning worth reading again to see if one could pick out any clues to the ending. I absolutely love it!
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wow
this is really good
im surprised you haven't won any contests with this you're definitely going to the finalists list in mine good job
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"And" shouldn't start a sentence if it can make it on its own or it should be combined with the sentence before. Another exception would be if it was in dialog
You're missing some punctuation
"Nothing too fancy that an out-of-towner would take notice to except." rarely should have a comma after to, for example.
you've also got some fragmented sentences.
watch for repetitive use of words, it tends to distract from your story.
I really liked the way you wrote the letter.
I'm not sure about the last sentence though it has an incomplete feel to it. I don't see the significance of it.
Otherwise your detailing is well done.
I liked the flow of the story. Well done and good luck in the contest. -
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Good points
which I shall take into consideration. The signicance of the last sentence is that he wasn't awake to hear the news. At some point I plan on taking an extensive look back on it, and taking the reviews and critique here into consideration and revising accordingly. And I will watch for the repetitive words. I was a bit worried something like that might be what plagues it. And the punctuation... I fear that when converting this into SW it has eaten a bit of my punctuation. I'll certainly be keeping that in mind when I go back over it.
Thanks for taking the time to read, and for the points you have given. It is much appreciated.
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This certainly made me shiver. In a good way.
It was almost meloncholy in the way you wrote it. A little memory of something that really was true and you were relating it to the rest of us. . . as in cops at a precinct...
It's a wonderfully written story.
beginning: 5, language: 5, plot: 5, ending: 5, dialog: 5, characters: 5.
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in-credible, simply unbeliveable, you hsve kept me awake all day, this is just briliant
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an applause,
Forgot to click x.x
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Wow.. you have a way of being poignant without sounding empty at all.
How long has it been since you last wrote? If... I had not read your author's notes at the end, I would have simply assumed that you've not stopped writing at all. It was a lengthy piece, and I am deeply impressed that someone like me (who has an attention span that rivals that of a toddler's) was able to read it through in one sitting. I have a fascination with butterflies - they're one of the simplest things I never got to draw properly and they're also the only insects (they are insects right?) that I absolutely love... and this is a wonderful tribute to butterflies!
The thing with people is that only a few of them would ever really know that they have touched another's life. Maybe it's because they never meant to stay long, or that it (the interaction) was merely accidental. Nonetheless, lives are touched and hearts are moves, and a person is never the same again. You never used the words "touched" or "moved" to denote what Charlie has done to Jonathan's life (I like, very much as a wise friend told me "Show, don't tell."). The honest truth that there ARE beauty in simple things is present in here as well, and I agree wholeheartedly with it.
I like the first person approach you used in this story, for it made everything seem more... personal, easier to relate with. I found it VERY easy to imagine that I was Jonathan. You described everything nicely, it wasn't overly done, and realistic enough that you suceeded in placing me in the story.
I also loved how you began the story by describing Charlie as "predictable," and ended with something that proved Jonathan otherwise. I like it that the narator's view about his friend was left unshaken, since Charlie did change his life - there are some things in life that people need not know, and I REALLY think it's best that at least one person was able to see the beautiful side of a serial killer ("What you don't know won't hurt you.")
There ARE a few small typos, but then, no worries, they did not disturb or disrupt the flow of your words. Great job, I really hope you win this contest!!! Thank you for the great read, and congratulations for writing again!
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Different and unique, a great story!
I liked your story, it was the perfect example of a short story and I enjoyed reading it. Though I was a little confused. Was the narrater supposed to have homosexual feelings towards the guy who left him the button? I don't want to be crude but it seemed that way. Anyway, it was a good use of beginning, middle and end though diologue could have been used more frequently. You need to get in touch with the characters. I know this is a short story but explaining the personality would be helpful. Overall, a great story.
beginning: 5, language: 4, plot: 5, ending: 5, dialog: 4, characters: 4.
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'Ello, Kiel... I don't know how I missed the fact that allpoetry.com had this site as a sister site.... i didn't even have to make a new name! Hooray for that!
this story made me really sad at the end b/c i liked him a lot... but then again, that will happen a lot... just take that guy your dad worked with... sometimes you just never know who the serial killers are...
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This is very well written. Very descriptive, which makes you just like your characters, able to pay attention to details. Very powerful write, and very chilling. I really didn't expect the ending, so it made for a nice, as a reader, or not so nice creepiness wise surprise. Great job, and keep penning.
Kat
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I really like the story here, it makes for a good short read. I also like your style, and a few grammatical errors aside, you deliver well. Nice job
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