The Incredible Broken Mind

The two of them strolled through the woods at a relaxed pace, neither rushing nor lazing. The path crunched below them as they walked on the crushed stone walkway. Dust particles and flying insects floating in slow motion, riding the sunbeams that shone through the cracks in the trees. There was a flurry in the undergrowth as a small creature scurried for cover disturbing the stillness and sleepiness of shrubs and bushes.

The wooded areas were a few hundred yards from the hustle and bustle of the small village. Sounds from the village break the silence; a noisy delivery truck struggling to get up the hill and children laughed and screaming as they played on the village green.

Cedric Pomford, the older of the two, was a retired naval officer in his late eighties. He constantly rolled out famous sayings. “Once an officer, always an officer,” and “Smooth seas do not make skillful sailors.”

His domineering presence never lacked luster even in his old age. His wrinkled silk shirt and cream-colored linen pants had long replaced his navy-blue uniform with ribbons and four-in-hand necktie. Cedric’s memory of historical facts was quite remarkable. A walking encyclopedia was an understatement. He would often tell detailed stories whenever the occasion was welcomed, or not welcomed. He would regale family and friends with tales of the past, demanding and thus expecting all to stand to attention and give their ear to him. At some point during his monologs, he would always say, “Lessons are learned from the fruitage of history.” With everyone joining in with droning chants.

“Another beautiful day,” exclaimed Cedric, gesturing with his arm. A broad smile cut across his face exposing his brilliant white dentures, a gift from the Navy’s retirement plan.

“Did. You. Know.” Emphasizing each word as if he was about to reveal a great mystery only known to himself. “Who George Crumville was?”

“Was he the Mayor of Crumville?” said Alvin, his eyebrows raised curiously.

“Nope,” announced Cedric. “He was not the Mayor of Crumville. That would be way too easy, Alvin.” He shook his head mockingly.

Alvin and Cedrick had known each other for many years, being side by side through thick and thin. Alvin seemed to take the good with the bad, even although neither outweighed the other. Some days Cedrick would be kind and father-like, other days he was petulant and rude. But the humble Alvin accepted Cedrick for the man he was, regardless of his flaws.

“George Crumville,” Cedric said, “was the first settler to come to Crumville, hence the name. He was a great builder from London, an artist of structures, a Master of Construction.”

“Why on earth did he leave London and move to the country?” said Alvin. Not really caring, but sensing the start of a history lesson, he was willing to entertain his old friend's storytelling.

“Well, I will tell you, my dear chap,” said Cedric graciously. “In 1665, a deadly pandemic spread across Europe, like a storm of locusts ravaging the land. It killed thousands as it devastated the populous. It was known as the Black Death, or the Bubonic plague.” His tone was that of a storyteller telling a young child a bedtime story of myths and wonder.
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Cedric continued. “Recognizing this terrible storm on the European horizon, the British Empire tried to defend its shores from the inevitable scourge. They protected London from incoming ships for fear of infected travelers. The Royal Navy quarantined ships and passengers for forty days, and travel bands were introduced. Finally, the plague eventually invaded London, causing the city to come to a grinding halt.” Cedric held up his hand and clenched his fist. “In a desperate attempt for survival, people socially distanced and houses of the victims were boarded up, with the victims still inside.”

“Golly, that’s awful,” said Alvin incredulously, eyes bulging.

“The streets were empty as the plague ravaged the city. One hundred thousand people died in a total of 564 days. That means 177 people perished per day.”

“Oh please, save me from all these numbers. Just tell the story,” Alvin said tiresomely.

“Numbers give scope!” Cedric fired back.

“There were walls of dead bodies piled high on Uxbridge Street and Fleet Street. This, of course, led to the need for mass graves full of diseased, black buboes covered corpses. The smell of death permeated every inch of the city, causing many to use death masks hoping to fight off the insidious air. Some even thought that tobacco and herbs cleansed the atmosphere of the deadly bacteria.”

Cedric stopped and with his fingertips together, made a poking gesture toward his nose. “They would pack these herbs and tobacco inside the beaks of their death masks.”

They continued walking along the winding path and reached a slight incline. Cedric’s steps began to slow, as his frenzied gestures and winded talking caused him to pant slightly. His heart beat a little faster, sweat began to glisten on his forehead. They both reached an opening in the woods that led to a pond, a few wooden benches surrounded the pond like small battlements protecting the water. It was a remarkably beautiful spot with hanging trees reaching down to the water's edge. Lily pads gently floated on the surface of the still glass-like water. It would not have been difficult to imagine Monet himself choosing such a scenic place to paint.

Cedric continued his story as they walked around the pond. “Prudent as he was, our man George Crumville took his family north before the outbreak and settled here. Slowly others came, and we now have the wonderful village of Crumville.”

“Ah, how interesting. But tell me, how did they stop the plague?” asked Alvin, with genuine curiosity.

“Stop it?” Cedric said, surprisingly. “They never stopped it. It simply moved on, and over the coming decades it kept rearing its hideous head. The plague broke out again in 1679 in Vienna, killing 76,000 people. Then also, in 1720 were another 100,000 died in France.

Alvin began to slow as Cedric rambled off all the dates, times, and places.

“Then in-” He paused and looked up. He placed his pointer finger on his lips and frowned. Then, as if a distant memory popped into his head causing him to smile, he continued. “In 1738, Central Europe saw it break out again, killing 36,000 people.” Cedric recalled all the numbers and places like a human encyclopedia. It was amazing.

In the distance behind them, came the shouts of two females.

“Dad. Dad,” a woman called out. A puzzled Cedric turned to look at the two women and a man coming toward them.
One of the women looked annoyed, her eyebrows furrowed. “Dad, how many times have I told you not to leave the house without us. You can't just take the dog for a walk anytime you want.”

The man with the two women, Cedric’s son, took his father's arm and led him back to the family house. Cedric’s two daughters followed behind looking concerned and worried.

“I just feel like dad's dementia has gotten worse,” said Beckee. “He’s having full blown conversations with the dog!”
They all walked back down the path towards the family home.

​Alvin, the family border collie trailed behind.