Indefinite Length, Part 9
8. Jul. 2018
Charlee decides to take the bus instead of hiring a car. Safety in numbers, safety in not sharing exact destinations, safety in keeping fists clenched. The sigil is glowing, has been glowing all morning. That hand is shoved in the pocket of Charlee's trench coat, balled up tight and fingernails making dents in the palm. Nothing to see here, fellow passengers, not plotting to bestow a lifetime of darkness on some white-haired asshole, nope. So maybe it will kill him, who knows? Not our place to judge. This is metaphysical shit, between him and God. But that's certainly not what's in my pocket.
The landscape rolling by outside is mundane and dirty and does not hold Charlee's attention. Fast food, gas station, church, repeat. Inside the bus, the view is only slightly more colorful, mostly thanks to the older woman in a bright floral housedress and hot orange slippers with a gold threaded logo across the toes, which Charlee can't easily read and doesn't care to try. The woman has three tote bags filled with her morning's shopping, and she is clutching them tightly to her breast, as if anyone else on the bus were paying her any mind. (Besides Charlee.)
The bus stops as it is scheduled to, and one by one it empties of passengers, until the only remaining riders are the woman in the bright dress, a younger man who's fallen asleep with his head against the window, and Charlee. The woman keeps looking back at Charlee, whom she must now perceive as the last threat to her belongings. When the bus stops again, Charlee rises. Mr. Stillwell's neighborhood is still another mile away, but Charlee thinks it wiser to get off elsewhere. Safety in obfuscation. The woman watches Charlee walk to the front of the bus, and she is visibly shaking. She mutters, "They cast their silver into the streets, and their gold is like an unclean thing."
As the bus pulls away, Charlee feels the sigil pulsing, and is thankful that the morning sun is bright. The glow is no longer contained in Charlee's fist, in Charlee's pocket, no longer confined to Charlee's palm. How bright the next mile will be, how loud the light...
|Indefinite Length, Part 9 - Photo Kim Breeding-Mercer|
IN WHICH: The woman watches Charlee walk to the front of the bus, and she is visibly shaking. She mutters, "They cast their silver into the streets, and their gold is like an unclean thing."
© KIM BREEDING-MERCER / OgFOMK ArTS -- 2018 All Rights Reserved. - "Indefinite Length, Part 9"
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