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Autumn tales
Fall has arrived, with ghost, goblins and spooky stories. I love this time of year with the crisp air, the crisper apples and the swooshing fireworks of changing leaves. It’s a good time to be a storyteller because, even more than in other seasons, stories seem to find us.
I was walking home the other evening when an older man sitting on a bench called out to me. “Lady,” he said in a voice roughened by age and alcohol, “Lady, I have to tell you something.” I know an invitation to wonder when I see it, so I waited and listened. Sure, it could have been awful. It could have been crude or painful or just a bid for another drink, but I would always rather think that there is something else possible.
“Lady, I was waiting for the bus, it’s time for me to get home, like I always do. I’d finished my drink,” he waved to a paper bag beside him, “and was hoping it would come soon cause I had to pee. I looked down the street to see if it was coming. I always do that even though I know it won’t come any faster. There was nothing.
“I sat back down on the bench when all of a sudden there was this huge gust of wind and a big, black bus stopped in front of me. Like one of those tour buses from the 1970s, you know? I sat there looking at it when the door creaked open and a tall, thin guy in a sharp suit stepped out. I used to wear suits like that, long time ago.
“He looked me up and down and asked if I wanted a ride. Now, I may be a drunk but I’m no fool. I asked him if they would let me off at my stop and he just smiled. His teeth were so white I could barely see. I shook my head no.
“He sighed, told me I didn’t know what I was missing, there were ladies on board. But I wouldn’t look at him again.
“I heard the door close and there was a rush of hot air, burned my eyes, and when I looked up the bus was gone. Look, you can see the tire marks.”
He was right, I could see a skid on the road, a mark that hadn’t been there the day before.
“Whaddya think lady, should I’ve gotten on?”
I looked at him and was about to say something, no doubt something trite, but he stood up. “My bus is here. See you around.”
The city bus pulled away and I noticed he had left his bottle behind.
I don’t know. What do you think I should have said?
If you are interested in this or other stories please contact me. I’d love to tell stories with you.
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