(Editor's note: This is the second chapter of a multi-chapter short story.)

Chapter 2 - Birth of a Hermit

No one knew much about what lay behind the old metal gate that kept visitors at bay at the entrance of the Johnson farm. The Johnson farm had been passed down from generation to generation for the past five hundred years and no visitors had been within its gates in some time. Old Johnson, as he had been referred to for the past fifteen years, was considered a hermit by most, and it was a rare occurrence when he ventured off his property and into the city more than once a month.

He hadn't always been that way, some thirty-five years ago he was as normal as normal could be when he married his childhood sweetheart, Mary Tinkerton. For all intents and purposes their marriage was a happy one. He doted on her and treated her like a Queen, and she the same for him. But life changed for them both with Mary's pregnancy. They had tried for years to have a child, but it was to no avail. Finally, after twelve years of marriage, Mary shared the news to Bill that she was pregnant. The couple rejoiced in the news and, if possible, the pregnancy made them even closer than before. But the joy was to be short-lived, for on what was to be the happiest day of their lives, their child's birth, Mary became seriously ill. Bill rushed her to the hospital and waited anxiously for word on his wife and child's condition. He paced back and forth in the waiting area for what felt like days, not saying a word to anyone. His gaze stayed fixated to the tiled floor and he paid no heed to the nurses who asked repeatedly if he needed a drink of water or a chair to sit upon. From time to time he thought he heard a baby's scream and his heart would race briefly in hopes that all was ok, but that hope would soon vanish as time went by without a single word from the doctor. Finally, when he thought he couldn't bare the wait any longer, a doctor emerged and asked Bill to accompany him to a small waiting room. Bill tried not to listen; he didn't have to for he already knew what the doctor had to say. Mary, and his unborn child, had died.

That was the beginning of the end for Bill; he shut himself away from the world from then on. No one could console him, his life had been shattered. His once bright countenance slowly turned into a scowl over the years. His love of Mary had been replaced by a hate for the world and all of its supposed happiness. The blue jays, they with their soft chirping outside his bedroom window, seemed to taunt him each morning. The squirrels' playful running across the roof was done to torment him, and the appearance of a beautiful sunset was life's way of mocking him. For as beautiful as a sunset may appear to most people, it is only there for a brief period of time, much as his happiness had been.

After some years of neglect, the Johnson Farm was in serious disrepair. Bill hadn't been looking after it, and quite frankly didn't care to. Only when the ceiling above his bed started leaking did he look for help. He put a small ad in the local paper with the simple message:

Handyman Needed
Leave list of qualifications
In box through fence.
1 Johnson Farm Dr.

There was only one application submitted, whether because everybody else was scared of Old Johnson by now, or just lack of interest, it remains unclear. Regardless of the reason for the limited submissions, Bill hired the applicant; a young man named Jerry Matthews. While Jerry was only hired to fix the roof, Bill took to him and hired him as a full-time handyman. Though Jerry rarely talked to Bill, or even saw him for that matter, the two of them over the years developed what almost could have been considered a friendship.