The Tragic Tale of Teddy Woven

Teddy stood at the bottom of the hill with a long, black umbrella in hand. A few droplets of rain crashed down upon the hilly land,
but not enough to make me feel agitated. The bus pulled up right beside Teddy’s dark figure, and the usual bus driver that
normally took me to work simply tilted his hat in respect to the gentleman waiting outside for me. The driver did not exhibit the
same fears as the one yesterday, so perhaps it was only a bad incursion. I offered a small goodbye to the bus operator, pleased
that he opened the doors wide enough for me to step outside and join Teddy’s side. I could feel the heated stare of this dark
cloaked figure as I walked past the front of the bus, although Teddy remained motionless as I steadily approached him.
He was draped in all black for the morning, with a smoky grey flat cap covering his head. He removed it once I stood in front of
him, and angled the umbrella in a certain way to block out the rain for me.
“What are you doing here?” His eyebrows shot up with surprise. “Is anything the matter?”
“I came here to apologize.”
“Yes, but you came out of your house,” I professed. “You didn’t have to come all the way down the hill to tell me that.”
“I was rude yesterday,” Teddy apologized. “And cold towards you.” His hat was placed back upon his head. “It is perfectly natural
to be a little curious, and besides, you didn’t see anything too damaging.” He stepped a little closer, allowing the umbrella to
cover us both from the light dripping of rain. “I overreacted,” he confessed. “I’m naturally a private man, and things only became
worse when the town began to gossip about me. But you are different, Sela. You don’t listen to that.”
“No, I know nothing,” I conceded.
A twinge of a smile spread across his face, though it was small and fragile-like. “You’re like a breath of fresh air." An arm was
presented upwards, a subtle offer for me to slip my arm over his own. “I think it’s time for something hot to drink. The rain will let
up soon enough, and then you can return to work.”
His mood had suddenly lifted, there was even a lightness to his rich chocolate brown eyes. He escorted me away from the side
of the road, bent upon taking the smoothest route possible that would lead him back home. The umbrella was shared between
us, allowing him to be as close beside me as possible. We walked in companionable silence up the hill, where only the faint
lapses of the calming sea could be vaguely heard under the light showering of rain.
***
A steady downpour of water droplets fell from a steel-grey sky; it pelted against the window where Teddy silently stood. His back
was to me; a large white mug clutched firmly in his hand as he watched the sudden change of the temperamental weather. I was

seated in my normal chair, stroking the small cat that was lost in slumber upon my lap. The faint ticking of the clock could be
heard down the hallway, and the rushing wind that inevitably came from the sea.
Teddy was lost in his own thoughts, deep and dark enough for him to wear a brooding expression. I contemplated the warning of
my employer, Daphne, and the words she gave me over my phone. Something inside of me wanted to dismiss it, to tear down
every wall that silently stood in between us. Luna was placed upon the kitchen table and I found my feet naturally gravitating
towards this sober looking man. My hand perched itself upon his left shoulder, turning him around so that I could have a better
look at him. “What is troubling you?” I gently whispered. His face softened before me, but it still revealed a haunting look in the
darkest regions of his eyes.
“Thoughts,” he offered out. “Memories.”
My hand was lowered, which made his demeanour change suddenly. He looked down at the hand that once touched him, and I
could see in his eyes that he wished it would return to his shoulder.
“You worry for me,” he ventured. “You should worry.” He took a small step backwards, and then turned himself away from me. “I
am not my normal self today, Sela. I think it’s best to return to your normal duties.”
“It is raining,” I reminded him, which made him look to the left to see the rain soaking the long glass window. “You were fine only
a moment ago.”
“I must get out of this house,” he said with gritted teeth, before he darted his head to the open doorway that would lead to the
hall. “Do you mind the rain, Sela?”
“You want to go out in it?”
“I thought a walk would do me well.”
I looked to the window as well with a feeling of uneasiness. “We could catch a chill,” I reminded him. “There must be something
else you could do.”
“I will go to my room,” he declared, and then immediately left the kitchen. To my surprise he did not go up the staircase, but
turned right to head down the long hallway. I followed after him, too curious for my own good. Teddy entered the art room and
purposefully left the door wide open for me to follow him. “You are welcome to come inside,” he said over his shoulder, once he
heard a creak of the floorboard over the threshold of the open doorway. “I have nothing to hide. Not anymore, at least.” He
pointed behind him, directing his fingers towards a small wooden stool. “Have a seat.”

“Teddy, won’t you tell me what is wrong?”
He never answered me, but I could see the slight trembling of his hands as he walked around the room. There was something
wrong, almost too overbearing for him. He used his shaky fingers to brush back his hair, revealing his entire face and the long
frown that he could not hold back any longer. “It’s unbearably hot in here,” he complained, and moved swiftly to the window to
force it open. The cold rain pattering against the stony grey wall was loud, you could hear the echo of the wailing wind as it
battered against the wall with forcefulness. I expected it to rain a little bit this morning, but I was never prepared for this type of
stormy weather.
The gust of wind blew fiercely into the room, scattering some papers that were laid upon his desk. Teddy frantically tried to pick
up some papers, and motioned his hands for me to stay away when I tried to assist him. I blatantly ignored him, and picked up
some sheets of papers that were closest to me. There were some sketches of the house, and self-portraits of him in different
rooms. I peered at one in particular; an illustration of him in this very room. There was a haughty expression about him, a defiant
glimmer in his eyes, but the thing that troubled me the most was the deliberate grey shading positioned next to him as he sat
beside the drawing table. It was indistinguishable, the shading, but there was something about it that still disturbed me.
“I do self-portraits,” he declared in a booming voice. “Either that or I draw poor Luna.”
“I thought you don’t do portraits.”
“So did I,” he darkly chuckled. “But... it clears my mind.” He retrieved the small piece of paper from my hand, and protectively
placed it against his chest. “I don’t do it for money though.”
“You could,” I suggested. “You captured the likeness quite well.”
“You think so?” He lowered the paper and held it in front of him. “I enjoy drawing people; capturing their expressions. I always
thought that mine was rather depressing though.” He stepped away from me while still carrying the self-portrait. “Strangely
enough, yours is quite different.” Teddy stopped in front of his pine desk and pulled open a different compartment than before. “I
drew it yesterday evening.” A fine quality paper was lifted into the air, and then he slowly strode towards me. The paper was
handed to me, and I could see an exact likeness of myself in the image. I was situated in the garden, surrounded by flowers that
were in full bloom with the outline of a cloudy blue sky in the background. He had captured my likeness so well, it shocked me
completely. Slowly I lowered the paper and darted my gaze upwards to see that he had been watching me. He took a small step
forward, allowing the darkness in his eyes to increase dramatically. “What do you think?”
“It’s...” My voice fell so low that I could go no further.

“You don’t like it?”
“All of this from memory?” I inquired. He nodded his head slowly, though his expressions displayed his anxiety as though it was
choking him to death. “How?”
“How?”
“It is like I was standing there in front of you,” I mused aloud. “It’s beautiful!” The paper was pressed upon my chest. “Could I
keep it? I hope I don’t sound vain, Teddy, but I have never seen anything like it before.” My feet moved to the right, and ever so
slowly I moved towards the open window. “It is like you captured my very existence,” I pondered quietly to myself. “In a single
image.”
“I will go over it with black ink, and then frame it for you.”
I turned around sharply, and exclaimed: “You would do that?” He responded with a small nod of his head in affirmation. “You’ve
done so much for me,” I exclaimed. “And I feel as though I have done nothing for you.”
His rosy pink lips puckered outwards, and soon enough his grey slippers elegantly stepped over the light almond coloured floor
to get to me.
“Teddy.” He stopped his movements abruptly. “What could I do for you?”
“Let me see you tomorrow,” he urged. “I will pick you up.” He took another bold step forward to enclose the last of the space
between us. “I want to show you the rest of my lands. You would like the shoreline, I think.” He took a long pause to let him
interlace his fingers together and place it over the front of his lap. “That is all I ask from you.”
“Then yes, I’ll do it.”
His facial expressions was inscrutable, but I knew he was secretly happy to hear the news.
“Are you feeling better now?” I asked of him. Teddy nodded his head sternly, never letting his gaze waver away from mine. “I
don’t like to see you that upset. I am glad you are feeling better. If you still want, we can take a walk outside.”
“In the rain?” he laughed in mirth.
“If it will clear your mind, I see no reason not to.”
“You care for me,” he voiced aloud with a half-startled expression. “Don’t you?”

“I’m your friend,” I cunningly reminded him in the hopes of avoiding his question.
“Yes, you are.”
The left side of my lip quirked upwards, and then I nervously avoided his gaze. To stare at him any longer would be at my peril.
Teddy must have gotten the hint, for he stepped aside and returned to his normal stool where he would conduct his paintings. I
watched him busy himself with his apron, securing it neatly before he set up his station. I wandered about the room, and made
sure to open the door a crack in case Luna wanted to come inside.
Rain continued to fall down from the heavens, sending a light mist into the room with the familiar scent of rainfall that I loved so
well. “Fill this with water,” Teddy requested, while holding up a large container just behind his back. “I need it.”
It was strange how easily I fell into his domestic surroundings, especially when I took the item from his hand and headed to the
kitchen to fill it. When I looked over my shoulder, Teddy was already lifting up a nearly completed painting. His mind had turned
over to his work; a good sign for his sanity at least.
Upon entering the kitchen I felt the temperature to be unreasonably cold, and a queer sort of feeling that I was suddenly being
watched. The house was silent though, and there was nothing in my surroundings to cause any form of alarm. The tap was
turned on and I slowly filled the container, while keeping an eye out for Luna. When I peered through the glass of the foggy
window I thought I had caught sight of my own reflection, but the figure was larger than my own. I turned around instantly to find
that nothing was there, and immediately shut off the tap. I held my breath with anticipation, and frantically looked around the
room. There was a low whimpering sound, as if someone was in pain, forcing my head to turn to the left to observe the tightly
sealed door with the heavy iron chain, wrapped around the doorknob and hooked around the corner of the wall, where a bronze
hook jutted out of it. I wondered where that room led to, and if someone was down there. Should I be afraid of Teddy? Could
there be someone down there like me? Some victim of his, or had my imagination gone too far? I turned on the tap once again,
and forced my mind to a more positive sphere. I came to the logical conclusion that it was only my imagination, or the sound of
the wind that made that sound that first alarmed me. Still, what sound in this house could create such a painful whimper, such a
low moan of pain? I filled the water as high as I could and quickly scampered out the room.
“Back already?” Teddy questioned me, without ever looking back. “Excellent.”
“Do you need me to fill up anything else?”
“What? No! I only want you to go into the music room. Feel free to take up any book you’d like. Be a dear for me, and turn on the
music. I concentrate better that way. If you could be quiet while I paint, I will make the most of this opportunity.”

“And what is that?”
“Oh, having you here in the room with me,” he said with all politeness. He waved his free hand over his shoulder, dismissing me
with a simple gesture. I embarked on the errand to switch on the radio, hardly amused when classical music began to play. His
bookshelf was full of non-fiction books, a sad fact that he did not enjoy stories as much as I did. I picked up a quaint travelling
book about India, and then walked back into the art room where he quietly worked.
“Sela?” he voiced aloud. “I heard your footsteps. Where would you like to sit?” His paintbrush continued to dab on the canvas,
focusing on a particular area of a tree in the corner of the painting. “You can bring the stool closer.”
He turned around finally, revealing a smile that took me by surprise.
“I promise you that I will work on your portrait. It feels quite awkward doing it next to you. Besides, I ought to finish this one. Feel
free to look at my other work, though do take care. It is my living, you know.”
I laid the travelling book down on the stool and explored the length of his room. For someone that was normally organized, his
workspace was in a state of disarray. I thought it was an acute reflection of his own mind, but I should not go so far as to judge
him on the appearance of his studio alone.
Teddy’s eyes were bent upon the canvas, utterly fixated with his work. I felt free enough to look at his landscape paintings,
noticing that he was very talented at his work. “Teddy? Who taught you how to draw?”
“No one taught me.”
“But did you study it in school?”
“My boarding school did not put much emphasis on the arts.”
“Boarding school?”
“Yes,” he drawled in a heartless way.
“Did you study it afterwards? Go to another school for it?”
“No, never.”
“So you were born with this gift.”

“I worked at it,” he remarked with his back to me. “It takes years of experience.”
I drew myself closer to him, until I was at his side. “I think it’s wonderful.” He tilted his head upwards and to the right to have a
better look at me. “You can play the piano, draw, paint, and are so well educated.”
“I had a good mentor,” he quietly explained. “And a guardian that was bent upon bringing out the best of me. I was like a
wounded bird when I was first brought to his doorstep. I daresay, I still am.” He lowered his paintbrush grievously. “But I have
become all of this through sheer determination alone.”
“Determination is one thing,” I noted. “But I would say you are a genius.”
“Like Einstein?” he teased. “No, I am no genius. All of this has been incurred in most recent years, I can assure you.”
“And before that?”
His mouth turned crooked, bent downwards with disdain. “I’d rather not talk about it.” He averted his gaze from me. “I enjoy the
way things are. The less you know about me, the easier it will be for us both.”
“You have so many secrets.”
“Some secrets are best to keep to one’s self.”
“Debatable,” I hushed from the corner of my mouth.
“Believe me, Sela. There are some things that you should keep close to your heart.” He raised up his right hand, letting his
paintbrush stick upwards. “After all, things are better between us this way. You are not tainted! No, not like the others before
you.”
“What others?”
“People,” he sneered. “How they look at me! And- and whisper things behind my back. They treat me as though I was Satan
himself.”
“But you are not him,” I lightly teased to cheer up his mood.
“Not even close!” Teddy blurted out in anger. “Why should I suffer for the sins of others? I cannot change things! I cannot cut
myself and let my blood pour out upon the floor just to appease them. I am not my...” He bit down on his tongue, and I could see

the venomous flash of something akin to hatred pool over his blackened eyes. “Let’s change the topic,” he sharply stated. “I am
done with this conversation.”
“Okay, Teddy.”
“Good,” he said with utter respite, and that was the end of it.