Tag Archives: Bus

The Human and the Being

“Do you really think you are alive because you are strong, and you think you can fight?”

“Yes,” the human answered confidently.

The being leaned in. “Wrong. You are alive because I saved you. I made a conscious decision that your life meant something. Do not make me regret that decision.”

The human remained silent.

“Is there anything else you wish to argue?”

“Why, then? Why did you save me? You’ve hated me from the beginning!”

“Yes.” The being’s eyes glowed with power. “I still hate you. You are not worth of my time. You are selfish, greedy, arrogant. You take the credit that belongs to others. All you care about is your own gain. Your honest coworker could have used that promotion. Now, he will not get it because you got the credit. He needed that money. Now he will not be able to afford the treatments for his dying child. He worked hard. It means nothing because of your entitled nature. The universe does not revolve around you. Can you understand?”

The human remained silent still.

The being’s power did not die. It grew. Formed an aura. “Yes. I should have let you die. You learn nothing! Yet, I am not your judge. If I did not save you, another would have taken my place. There is a plan for you. It is not climbing the corporate ladder by lying or swindling. Your plan has nothing to do with money. However, you are too dense to see past something so meaningless.”

The human watched the being start to leave. “Wait! Aren’t you going to tell me my plan?”

The being paused. “No. It is not my place. You are too deaf to hear. Ignorance clouds your judgment. You will never understand until you let go of your earthly desires. Until then, do not push your luck. Your plan may be for you to die by the hands of a bus versus that gang.”

The human could not respond.

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Don’t Shoot the Messenger

The damp air is disturbed. Boots slap wet pavement. A cigarette burns red. A man emerges from the dark alley. Newsboy cap tilts to one side. Hands in tweed pockets, easy strides carry him to his target.

A bus stop shelters one occupant from the cold. The onlooker nestles further in his coat. Checks his watch. The bus is late. Per usual. As long as it provides meager heat. He hears steps but thinks nothing of it.

Not until worn brown boots come into his down-cast vision. He lifts his head. Dim gas lamps and fog barely making the visitor visible. Though he knows his fate has been sealed, he scrambles behind the waiting bench for shelter. “What are you doing here?”

“I have a message for you.”

The waiter for the bus shakes. Not because of the cold this time. “From who?”

“Tommy Boy says you owe him for a job. He also says if you don’t give me the money, he’ll send me after that darling family of yours.”

“Do I look like I have the money on me?”

“I don’t know what you’re packing under that coat.”

“Indeed.” The debtor pulls a pistol and fires a couple rounds.

But the contract killer expects this course of action. He drops before bullets reach him. Cursing when he drops his smoke. Reveals his own weapon. “Looks like I’ll be paying your wife and daughter a visit.”

One shot kills the other. He corrects his newsboy hat and stashes his pistol in his satchel. His lips curl in disgust at the body he leaves where it fell. Lights another cigarette as he walks away from the lonely scene. Breath curls into the air.

“You don’t mess with the Message Man.”


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