It was a cold, autumn Tuesday, the perfect movie rendition of All Hallow's Eve. It was so dark that the sky never came out of its slate mood and, even at 8 o'clock in the morning, the sodium-vapor yard lights were fooled and stayed lit. Everything was draped, or cast, in silhouette and a not-so-thin blanket of damp. The wind sliced with a scythe made of ice, carving deep into the bone; only a hot bowl of stew or dense oatmeal could relieve as you wrapped yourself deep in a warm blanket or quilt, turned yourself into a dense cocoon, and slept away the day. This day was the day of the wake, the day the buses ran to a small country church, the day friends met family and remembered. It was a damp day, both inside and out. It was the day no one wanted or saw coming, not even the Earth herself.
You see, Friday was so bright, shiny, warm. All was roses. How could anything go wrong? But we should have thought upon the morning, given credence to the dawn. You see, in that glorious morning before a glorious sunrise, there was something treacherous in the hiding, lurking fog. Hidden in the low, cold valleys, before the sun could reveal, something, other than deer, leapt across the road, a spectral shadow dancing, a menacing thing. No one suspected such a traitor in our midst on such a glorious day. But as I traveled through the dense, lowlands, the traitor appeared. I didn't know; I didn't even suspect. A boy appeared, suddenly, dressed in dark colored clothes. I think they were black.
I squealed to a stop; I almost did not see the darkly dress boy standing there by the side of the road. I opened the mechanical door, explaining that darkly dressed kids get missed in the dark. But the boy quietly slid on to the bus and then quietly slid into a seat. No one knew him, no one asked. They all just simply fidgeted in their seats and averted their eyes. The boy said nothing, simply sat, staring out into the red-lit darkness of the rear of the bus. Simply sat; were there dark wings? Nah, just a trick of red light.
Then, just as the sun began to add color to the midnight sky and erase the bright shining stars, she got on the bus. Without hesitation, she sat down next to the boy. Perhaps, she knew him, perhaps, she never saw him sitting their alone in the seat. No one knew and no one asked. All was silent and still, statute deer after a snap of a twig in the woods. A hunter was near, and we all sat, stiff and tense, as I drove down the road, listening to the clatter, chatter of the two-way radio.
Then it was over, the mechanical door opened. Before the sun crested the horizon and erupted in bright light, all High Schoolers bursted off the bus and into the building, followed by the girl being tailed by the strange, quiet, and darkly dressed boy. Then later that day, crows gathered 'round. They bowed their heads in silence, as the girl could not be found.
As for the boy--no one remembers. I have shaken and questioned, but no one remembers... So, here we are now; in a small country church, listening words and raindrops fall. We listen and hold hands, and curse, because we did not say, "take care. Have a fine day."
