One sip of this towns' storm-water runoff would leave you drunk, stoned, high, and diseased for the rest of your life.
It was a stormy night, and heavy rain came along with the rumble, the number 26 bus was late as usual, and after having the day I had I didn’t seem to give a damn. I had just been fired from my job. As the leafless tree above the bus stop offered no cover for the downpour that was ensuing, I thought a little water won’t hurt. I didn’t mind, I needed to be cleansed. The rain offered a cool, clean feel that beaded off my bald head, I felt at peace at that moment, the first time in a while.
The Journey: a means of travelling from one place to another: a life: metaphoric; physical; psychological…. Where will it end? “Tickets please.” When was it that you learnt to blame your parents for everything? In your weaker moments? When was it that you learnt that you could wipe out your memory with alcohol, or that … Continue reading The Journey, by Hermione Laake
They are all standing around the bus stop – and are like children. There is the waitress, early fifties, cute in her lipsticks, and the black pinny spoiled only by long black trousers. She ignores me, she understands how I am a top predator of the top deck. She couldn’t trust herself upstairs with me in the eye-line.
We’re different from the boisterous crowds of the weekends. The loud drunks commuting between parties, or the twitching addicts rocking and scratching at their skin, the entangled limbs of one night lovers clawing at each and wrapping around one another in the back. No, we’re the night bus sleepers, a different breed entirely.
“Don’t be concerned madam” I tell her while shoveling the coins mixed with tiny fragments of glass off the stairs and into my coat pockets. An honest days work for an honest days pay.
Huckleberry Finn floated by St. Louis on his little wooden raft, and nothing bad, or good, or anything in particular happened to him there, besides him just floating by. I hope I just float by and nothing happens to me too, because anytime anything does happen to me it’s almost always the wrong thing.