The road was quiet, and the only sound was the rustle of the wind through the trees. But as he walked further away from home, Binyameen noticed an old figure sitting near a water well by the roadside. The man was hunched, his hair long and gray, and his eyes hidden beneath the shadows of a wide-brimmed hat. His weathered face was illuminated only by the faint glow of the stars, and he looked like someone who had lived through many years and witnessed the changes of the world.
Binyameen slowed as he neared the figure, his instincts telling him that this man, though strange, might offer something more than just a passing glance.
The old man spoke first, his voice low and raspy. "You walk a path that few dare to tread, young one."
Binyameen froze for a moment, caught off guard. "What do you mean?"
The old man's eyes glimmered from under the brim of his hat, a knowing gleam in them. He leaned forward slightly, his hands resting on the handle of a wooden staff. "The world is vast, and it pulls at all who seek to venture beyond what they know. But not all who wander find what they seek. You may find the city, but you may also lose something far more precious. Or, perhaps, you will gain something far greater than you imagined."
Binyameen, flustered, didn't know what to say; this complete stranger was talking to him about something so relevant to him. Binyameen wondered if the old man had hid outside his house while he argued with his parents."Who are you?" Binyameen said with hostility.
The elderly man smirked as if he were expecting Binyameen to ask him who he was. "I am but an old man waiting for his death, Binyameen." A sly expression formed on the man's face.
"How do you know my nam..." Binyameen was interrupted before he could finish.
The old man's smile widened, and his eyes twinkled with a knowing glint. "I know many things, Binyameen. More than you might think. I see the paths you walk and the choices you'll make. And I see the weight you carry." He leaned forward even further, his staff resting on the ground with a solid thud. "But you're not the first to feel lost, nor will you be the last."
Binyameen took a step back, his heart racing. His mind reeled with confusion. How could this stranger know his name? It wasn't possible. He hadn't told anyone he was leaving, and yet here was this old man, speaking as if he had been watching him all along.
"How do you know my name?" Binyameen demanded again, his voice now laced with frustration and suspicion. "Are you... spying on me?"
The old man chuckled softly, the sound carrying a strange weight. "Spying? No, Binyameen. I'm simply a witness to the unfolding of lives. Yours just happens to be one I've been waiting to see." He paused, letting the words sink in. "But don't mind that now. What matters is that you are on the verge of a great change, a path that will shape the future, whether you're ready for it or not."
Binyameen opened his mouth to speak again, but the old man raised a hand, cutting him off. "Enough questions for now, young one. I have something for you."
The old man reached into the folds of his tattered cloak and pulled out a small stone, its surface smooth and polished by time. It was a deep, swirling blue, almost as if it contained the very essence of the night sky. He held it out to Binyameen, his gnarled hand trembling slightly, but there was a strange force in his gesture.
Binyameen stared at the stone, then looked up at the old man, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What is this?"
The old man's expression softened, and for the first time, Binyameen saw a flicker of tenderness in his eyes. "This is a gift, one that will guide you when the time comes. It is a reminder that you are not alone on your journey. Even when the world seems vast and overwhelming, there will always be signs. And this stone will show you the way."
Binyameen took the stone from the man's hand, feeling its weight in his palm. It was surprisingly warm, as though it had been waiting for him. He turned it over in his fingers, mesmerized by the patterns of blue and silver that seemed to swirl and shift with the movement of his hand.
Binyameen didn't know how to respond. His mind was a jumble of thoughts, and the stone in his hand felt both foreign and familiar at once. Without a word, he slipped the stone into his pocket, the warmth of it lingering against his skin.
"Thank you," he muttered, though the words felt hollow in the face of the strange encounter. He turned away, the old man's cryptic words echoing in his mind. But as he looked back to look at the elderly man out of curiosity, there was no one there.
With that, Binyameen returned home, not understanding what to make of what just happened. As he lay in his bed, he stared at the stone, which was a stone unlike one he had seen before. Binyameen fell asleep after getting lost in the stones beautiful colors. As the stone lay on his chest, it glowed.