From the woods he came, offering sage advice in numerous and wonderful subjects, including the art of ninjutsu, how to replace a lost thumb, and the magic of disguising yourself in the foliage.
The first time I met this mysterious wizard, he was dressed in hunter's attire - the kind that hides you from your prey, rather than highlight your presence for fellow hunters. One second there was nothing, and the next, the shadows twisted as he flowed outward from beneath a nearby tree. I cowered in fear, but my father addressed the wizard by name. All was well, then! They appeared to be on friendly terms, so my fear ebbed away. Adam was his name. They conversed for a time and then the wizard melted back into the foliage.
The next time I remember seeing Adam, he was garbed as a ninja. All black clothing, a mask. No doubt he had throwing stars hidden about his person. I cannot recall if he carried a katana or any other sort of blade. No doubt he at least had one in his possession, if not on his person! Enchanted by eldritch means, stored in some dark cellar for when the time was right. After another conversation with my father, he disappeared once again.
When that time he went away, it left me wondering what new fantastic profession he would next take up. Sadly, nothing ever topped the ninja.
And so more time passed. My next clear memory of the wizard was less exciting and more awe-inspiring. If I recall correctly, he was dressed in normal attire. Jeans and a T-shirt, an appropriate dress code for a walk through the woods. But his hand was entirely covered by bandages. Through conversation with my father - again I remained silent, for I was even more shy then than I am now - I learned that he lost his thumb when his potato gun backfired. I suspected it was something more mystical in nature, but my father bought the story. When they finished speaking, he traipsed off into the forest once again.
If anyone doubts my story, there is one more encounter... Proof of his magical nature lies in this final confrontation, the last that is not lost in the clouds of my forgotten past.
He had a thumb! His excuse this time? Toe-to-thumb surgery. As if such a thing even exists! I know it was magic that healed his severed appendage.
Between that encounter and my move to a new home in Lebanon, I only recall seeing Adam once more, and it was not an eventful meeting. But no doubt had I ever built up the courage to speak with him, I would have been witness to a whole new world.
...
When I was a child, Adam was nothing but awe-inspiring. He only ever appeared from the woods behind my old house, and when the conversations between him and my father ceased, he would stalk back into the foliage, not to be seen again for weeks or even months. His visits were brief and few.
I learned only recently that Adam was, in fact, mentally ill. Dad didn't say exactly how - I'm not sure if he knows, and I didn't inquire any further. Strangely, this doesn't affect my mental image of Adam at all. He was what he was. A strange and mysterious figure.
