Farewell To an Interesting Year

”it was indeed an interesting year my good man.”

Turning his cataract ridden eyes to his drinking companion, the old man sighed. “That it was my friend. That it was indeed.” Picking up his tumbler of Ancient Age he took a sip of the whiskey and looked around the bar. There were a fair number of patrons in attendance despite it being New Years Eve. A group of young people sat at a nearby table talking about sports, politics, sex, and work between bouts of searching the internet for drivel on their cell phones. Probably checking the latest Tik Tok challenges or insulting someone on Facebook, he thought drily. A group of men about mid forties pounded on the bar as they watched a football game on the huge overhead screen.

“So, tell me, what were your favorite moments of 2024 my friend?” said his companion.

“Well, that’s hard to say,” he grunted. “Possibly when a man convicted of multiple felonies was re-elected to the office of President of the USA. I find that quite entertaining, but, then again, look at the alternative.” He shrugged. “There’s always the war in Ukraine. Pretty sure Putin didn’t expect as much resistance as he’s encountered there. Those Ukrainians are a tough bunch. Still, I’m not big on politics and war. I like to recall the quieter moments. The first flowers of spring opening t0 greet the sun. Snowfall on the cedars. The glow of love 0n a new mother’s face as she holds her infant for the first time.”

His companion placed a thin hand on his stooped shoulder, slender fingers gripping for a moment. “Introspective and melancholy, hey? I get it. It’s hard to see your year pass. But, it is what it is my friend.”

“I’ll drink to that,” the old man said, taking another sip of his Ancient Age. Holding his glass in gnarled fingers he swirled the liquid around. “Ancient Age,” he said. “Seems more like your brand than mine.”

“I don’t know,” his companion said, pushing back his dark hood from a long, lean face. “Seems a matter of perspective to me. To a fruit fly, thirt-five days is ancient. After all, they are only gifted forty to perhaps fifty days on this old ball of dirt and water.”

“Nice to know I get to outlive something,” the old man said with a wry grin.

Above the bar the television channel switched to the scene in Times Square, New York. A crowd of thousands was milling there waiting for the fabled ball to drop. Carrie Underwood was on a stage with Ryan Seacrest getting ready to sing in the New Year at the Dick Clark’s Rockin’ New Years Eve bash. The old man looked at the screen as it began the five minute countdown on the large clock. “Five minutes,” he said. “Then the ball drops.”

His companion picked up his glass of Old Granddad and hoisted it in a salute to the festivities. “That Carrie Underwood; she’s something else. Can’t wait to meet her.”

“You’ll get your chance, I’m certain. You always do.”

“True. All in it’s appointed time though.” The thin black clothed man again hoisted his glass of Old Granddad to the screen before taking a sip. Carrie Underwood was now singing Jesus Take the Wheel in front of a crowd of milling fans and gawkers. Neon lights were everywhere giving the scene a psychedelic surreal feeling as bodies swayed back and forth like leaves in the wind.

“So, how does it feel to watch the ages pass?” the old man asked. “The Roman Empire. The death of Julius Caesar? The Revolutionary War. The assassination of JFK? The birth of Jesus of Nazareth.”

“Well, I wasn’t there for the manger thing. Birth isn’t really my forte. With perhaps one notable exception,” he added, with a nod to his shrunken companion.

“I suppose not. But I'm sure you were there for the crucifixion.”

“Yeah. Quite messy and painful that. I hate the protracted ones. At least JFK was over in an instant. You should have seen Jackie’s face...” The black clothed man let out a breath in a gusty sigh. “One minute left for 2024 my friend.” He held his glass out. “Here’s to a good year past and hopefully a better one to come.”

The old man chuckled. “Well, I hope it be so.” He held out his own glass, clinking it against his companion’s before taking one last sip. Setting the glass on the bar counter he swept the room with his gaze. Most of the crowd was now watching the screen where the countdown was running for the ball drop. In Times Square people laughed, talked, cried, kissed, hugged, drank, and partied. Ryan Seacrest, famous smile blazing, held his microphone tight as he began the final countdown. “Ten! Nine!”

“Farewell 2024,” the dark robed man said, gripping his staff.

“Indeed. Out with the old, in with the new,” the old man said wryly.

“Five! Four! Three!”

Thousands of people in Times Sqaure had eyes turned upward to the giant disco ball hanging there. Across the nation, millions of persons echoed the countdown along with Ryan. In the bar every pair of eyes were glued to the screen as the patrons also echoed the final countdown for the denouement of 2024. Every pair but one. The black robed man gripped his staff where a metallic shimmer had arisen, illuminating the skeletal fingers gripping the haft. His eyes were on his stooped, tired looking companion.

“Two! One!”

As the huge silvery ball dropped over the screaming crowd amidst three-thousand pounds of floating colorful confetti the man swung. “Zero!”

As the bar patrons yelled ecstatically, hugging and kissing, toasting the new year, Death picked up the Baby New Year from the ashes of 2024. “Welcome 2025,” He said. “May you be a good one.”

Here is a link to the prompt. Hope to see many join in. It will be quite interesting to see what comes out of this as 2024 has been quite a ride: