As he walked on top of the blue bridge beneath the purple hills n above the green river,a faint figure appeared on the other side...A small girl,,,,Small..innocent...ghostly..wit the thick white fog in the background it appeared to b jus another scene form a horror movie..As she walked slowly towards him, murmurin her favourite nursery rhyme,the silence of the forest intensified.He looks at her...SO white..White frock..White garland..White pupils..he bends down n says "And who are you,Little girl?"....(silence)........"Don't puzzle ME",she replies n disappears back in the fog
shrugging his sholders, he continues on. but the fog only intesifies. it's a good thing he's walking he thinks to himself. any faster conveyance would be moving faster then the distance the fog allows him to see. this doesn't bother him. he rather enjoys it actualy, this sense of mystery. the edge of the path he can see by his feet, and he knows he hasn't turned arround and he knows he's headed in the direction he intended, so what could possibly go wrong? thinking this in his blissful euphoria, he trips and stumbles, nearly landing on his nose, as his foot hits the edge of one of the rails of the hernia gauge transit system that crosses the path at this point. he had coverd more distance faster then he had realized. not paying that much attention, but surely the grade crossing, he couldn't possible be here alread. he manages to catch himself in time to avoid breaking his nose, but not quick enough to avoid a painfully skinned knee, and mud on the knee of his best pair of pants. he picks himself up and moves on. home is not far but the transit shelter is even closer. he sits on the bench there to rest without looking up. when he does, she's there again. =^^= .../\...
"why did you come here if your just running away?" the girl asked with a glazed look in her eye. he had not expected this happen, not tonight. he buries his head in his hands, still not acknowledging her existance. a faint horn sounds from the distance, but he's puzzled by the lack of a soul in this seemingly innoccent youth. with his eyes closed, he can sense she's sitting next to him, but still, he won't look. the sound . . in the distance is now drawing nearer. in a flash he jumps and runs, trying to see beyond the brush which way he should turn. the fog just hangs in the air with sound itself having trouble getting through. just then . ..
"he raises his voice heavenward and shouts 'Many furlongs hence! Have you or have you not noticed the paper lock of thy bright and vocal forgetfulness? Shame! And to all your deceased orange yet warm summers I say, Medic! Over here! Two more beers for us lonely goo of you! South of North Burlington! From mighty hedghogs, good ladies, from mighty hedghogs and your briscits!' Then, standing on one foot, he turns himself inward, and spins in place for seventy years and a minute. Then, from out of the fog, there emerged a"
a rauckus blaring of celestial trumpets, or so it seemed. instead it was just the little moving bench, honking inpatiantly in it's automated way for him to move off the tracks where he suddenly realized he was standing in front of it. taking advantage of the built in delay he climbed on and sat down as he had intended. of the little girl there was once again no sighn. but two seats behind him a small curly haired dog holding the string of a red balloon in her mouth had her forepaws wrapped fearcely arround the security bar as the train of multiple unit benches began gliding down the track away from the rapidly faiding halo of light comming from the map display at the shelter, now swallowed up by the fog and the rapidly increasing distance behind them. the train rattled on and he could hear the watter rushing by below as the diminuative train crossed another bridge over another branch of the miandering creek. off in the distance a harpie gave voice and was answered startlingly near by by the scream of a puma. or was it a puma. he couldn't tell for sure, but the little dog was lying down now, eyes half closed. he whanted to scritche it's fur. he wanted to do other things to, that he dare not think about, let alone mention, even to the innermost places of his secred soul. for better or worse, it was just enough too many seats behind him for his arms to reach. =^^= .../\...
reality sets in, as he ponder: ". .. dogs, dogs, ladies and their damn dogs. like those dogs in new mexico that earned me free ananl probe compliments of the dea. fuckin dogs. what the hell . .. . where the . . dude, i feel so lost . .the world is whirling by me and i sit here, watching it, being a damn voyuer. what will happen when i get there? will things have changed, and if so, for the better, or . . . what is this enigma that plagues my soul?!? . . .
i wished he'd worn a warmer coat, or had a cup of hot chocklet from the machine at the stop where he got on. the smooth stainless handgrip was robbing heat from his body, but he wasn't about to let go. he didn't know why but he didn't want the dog to loose her grip on the baloon either. it was a good thing the little train didn't go very fast or he'd be really chilled, as it was the fog was just annoyingly damp. but now his stop was comming up and he'd stumble the rest of the way through the garden and into hes little cottage and to bed. he almost nodded off thinking of the tea water he'd soon be boiling and almost missed the slowing of the train. everything was happening sooner then he thought it was supposed to this night. not like he hadn't been here before. he know what he'd find locked in the secret room, dry and dusty, the meat long gone from it's bones. but that was crazy there was no locked room. that was just something he'd dreamed sometime. his tiny cabin was way too small to even HAVE secret rooms. wasn't it? the train glided to a stop and he got up. swung is other leg over the seat and stood up. he felt dizzy again but knew he'd be alright. this close to home there wasn't much more could go wrong THIS night. keep telling yourself that he told himself. his nearest neighbor's dog accross the way started yapping and soon the rest of the neighborhood muts were taking up the call. =^^= .../\...
feeling flustered, feeling a lot of things, he walks to his door. "i did NOT leave this open." taking a look around his lawn he sees tire tracks. lock's broken. he figures it's all clear by now so he enters cautiously. why were they here? this hasn't happened since madrid '77. looking around, things seem eerily in order. drawers not rummaged through, desk neither. mabey it was . .. .. he races down to the basement. light's out. "shit." more drama today. . .get's his lightbulb and flashlight and see something he's never noticed. ther's a hole. the handle on the floor? is that right? sure 'nuff.. .
