Carolyn Huff

Old Man Iscariot

The night air was crisp, and a cold fog was rolling in. Old man Iscariot could feel in his bones that a storm was coming. How big, he did not know. Looking to his right he could see that his wife was fast asleep, a gift his achy bones would not grant him. After adjusting his night cap, he lit the bedside oil lamp, slid on his slippers and tied his robe tight. Though he had to work for what he had, in all his years, he had never wanted for anything, except perhaps for children. Tonight, all he wished was that he could buy himself a little more warmth and younger bones.