The Ride

A ride they will never forget...

 

Sighing deeply, he pressed his forehead against the surprisingly cool glass.  For a few moments, he sat there, content only to stare out of the window as he wrapped his strong arms about himself as if for warmth.  He stared first at his own reflection, losing himself in the deep green of his eyes, which had once been reminiscent of the greenery of the most lush forest glade.  Dead.  His eyes lacked even a slight twinkle, giving him the appearance of a corpse.  There was no indication of any emotion in his eyes – human or otherwise.  Eyes truly are the windows to the soul, he mused.  But wait. I have no soul.

In an effort to pull himself from such dark musings, he focused beyond his ghostly reflection to the scenery sliding past.  Rather than cheer him, the scenery served only as a very real reminder of his losses.  He stared out at the city, all but abandoned.  Wisps of smoke rose like mournful wraiths from the devastated remains of buildings.  He took a deep breath and sighed miserably. Such devastation and for what? Days later, and he still had no answers for that question.  He, who had an answer for everything and who knew more than anyone else among his family and friends, was at a loss.  He smirked at that. It seems that even I don’t have an answer for every…

His attention was drawn by the sudden change in the mood of the bus.  The few other passengers seemed to be riveted by something or someone at the front of the bus.  Slowly, almost reluctantly, he turned away from the window and directed his gaze towards the front of the bus.  Almost thirstily, his eyes drank in the features of the woman who had just boarded.  What he could see of her hair, which was mostly covered by a scarf, was so black that it was almost blue.  This contrasted against her creamy skin.  He wondered why she hid such wondrous hair under such a simple scarf.  He was suddenly assailed by an urge to stroll up to her and snatch the scarf away in anger that she would hide such beauty – that she would attempt to tame her rich waves under such an unworthy bit of cloth.  It was contemptible that she would do such a thing.

He pulled himself away from such fantasy, letting his eyes slide once again over the entrancing beauty before him.  Her delicate brows were arched precisely, which gave him the impression that she cared for herself lovingly.  He wondered what her eyes looked like under the dark glasses that she wore. Pity, he thought, that she is hiding.  As he watched, she seemed to notice the attention she drew.  Rather than fill her with pride, as it would were it any other woman, she seemed to shrink away from the passengers’ perusal.  He wondered why she would hide such beauty and why she seemed to shrink away from the attention it caused. He sighed and tore his gaze away from her.  He wanted to drink in all of her.  He wanted to gaze into her eyes and examine her very soul.  He wanted to trail his fingers along her skin- to know whether it was as soft as it appeared.  Ah, but his fingers tingled with longing to do just that.  However, he always respected other people’s space and sought always to make them comfortable.  His intense gaze would have the opposite effect, he sensed.  Out of respect for her unvoiced wishes, he would deny himself the pleasure of feasting upon her beauty, though his eyes longed once more to slide over her delicate frame. 

Losing interest, the other passengers had long ago turned their gazes elsewhere.  The mood of the bus resumed its monotonous tedium.  The woman made her way towards the back of the bus, toward him.  He waited. He was at the very back of the bus, so she could not sit behind him.  He hoped that she would sit where he could have a clear view of her.  He could not fight the urge to look at her, but he would do so covertly.  He would steal glances while she was unaware.  It was less than honorable to do so, but he could not help himself.  She fascinated him.  He was driven by a sudden and intense urge to get to know her better, but how?

Curiosity got the better of him and he shifted his gaze to see where the woman had decided to sit.  She was right in front of him. He had an unfettered view… of the back of her head.  Scowling almost imperceptibly, he stared at the emerald green cloth covering her head.  He slid his gaze along the back of her head until his eyes reached her silken strands of hair.  For a few long moments, he was content only to stare at the silken mass.  He daydreamed about sliding his fingers through the rich waves.  What is wrong with me, he wondered.  Am I no better than a lecherous old man salivating over a pretty young woman?

Just as he decided to take a chance and tap her on the shoulder, the woman shifted and turned in her seat so that she could face him.  Though he could not see her eyes, he knew that they were focused directly on his eyes, delving into their murky depths.  His mouth went dry suddenly and his mind went blank.  He cast about frantically for something to say to her.

“Hello,” he said lamely.  The lady smiled slowly, almost painfully.  He had no doubt that the smile failed to reach her eyes.  She paused before returning his greeting, as though she had to consider whether she would talk to him.  Falling into the conversation of bored bus riders everywhere, he posed an all-too-familiar question: “where are you headed?”  The woman’s gaze faltered.  For a brief second, he caught a glimpse of a frown.  The woman had iron control, however, and her face quickly resumed an air of chilly indifference.  Before he could ponder further, she smiled self-deprecatingly and said, “Away. Far, far away.” 

He pondered her answer for a split second before turning his attention to her voice.  Rich and melodic, her voice was almost musical, a smoky contralto.  He would be content, he had no doubt, to listen to her speak for hours about anything and everything.  Desiring to hear her speak again, he asked, “Are you always this vague?”  She smirked once more and responded, “Are you always this questioning?”  Sighing as though she realized how rude she was being, she continued, “I am vague only when the need arises.” “Oh,” he said, “and is there a need for such ambiguity now?” She only nodded. 

The bus ride is a long one, but not nearly long enough to get to know her better, he mused.  He was astonished that one such as he could find himself wanting to get to know anyone better.  He was surprised by his interest in her and even more by the intensity of his interest in her.  He simply had to get to know her better.  He wanted to know everything about her and realized that he would gladly spend the rest of his life doing so.  However short that is, he thought.  Let’s start at the beginning. 

“Such a stunning beauty must have an equally stunning name,” he found himself saying.  She raised one exquisitely arched brow. “My name?” she faltered. “Ahh…”  He smiled a little, waiting for her to pick a name to cloak herself in.  He wondered what sort of name she would pick.  He hoped it was a good one.

“Calysta,” she breathed, “my name is Calysta. Friends call me Cal.”  He smiled.  She was good. “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman,” he stated truthfully. “Your name,” she prompted, skimming over his compliment. 

“Hmm,” he drawled, making a show of rooting through his mind for a suitable name. “I’ll be Jaiden, then. Jai for short.”

He watched as she shifted to get more comfortable in her chair. Funny how I can shift from feeling like Death himself to wanting to get to know someone. It will be fun to see how this plays out.  “Secrets,” he began, noting the way she squirmed almost imperceptibly at his use of the word, “are quite intriguing. Why do people keep secrets? What sorts of things do people choose to keep secret? Why do they choose those things? It would be interesting to find out.”

She bit her bottom lip as though considering his words very seriously and carefully.  “One could choose to keep secrets for many reasons. Protection. Privacy. Amusement. Necessity. The things that people choose to keep secret are also numerous and varied.  No one can be for sure of the answers, aside from the secret-holder, perhaps.” 

“Good answer.”

“Thank you.”

They fell into a comfortable silence for a while.  He turned to watch more of the devastated countryside slide past.  To think that he was largely responsible for such death and destruction… He sighed.  It was something that he would live with for the rest of his life.  That might not be so long, as it turns out. 

He knew that legends would be spun from the events, once people shook off their shock and grief at having their whole world turned upside down.  He knew too that they would pick up the pieces of their shattered lives and town and rebuild new lives.  They might move on, but they would never forget.  He doubted that they would even forgive, if they knew the truth.  The possibility that they would learn his role in the events was too strong. It was his reason for boarding the bus and leaving behind all he knew.  He would find out who he was… what he was.  Then he would have some chance to atone for the devastation he had caused when he dared to dream.  For most, dreams are causes for hope.  For me, dreams are dangerous things.

He returned his attention to Cal.  She was watching him intently.  “I wonder where you just went.  You seemed miles away.”

“Nowhere, really.  Just thinking about secrets some more. Well, I was thinking about how some secrets can be kept even from those involved… How one can discover secrets about himself or herself.”

“Ah.” 

She hesitated for a second, then leaned closer. “Want to know a secret?”

“Depends on the secret. What are you willing to share?”

“The color of my eyes and the reason for this ride. Simultaneously.”

He gave her a careful, measuring glance. “Now I’m intrigued.  I’ve been dying to know the color of your eyes and I must admit to a certain bit of curiosity about why such a beautiful woman would board this bus. No offense to our company, of course.”

“Of course.”

She glanced around, to be sure that none of the other passengers were looking at them.  Then, she reached up and slowly pulled off her shades.

The first thing he noticed was her eye color.  Her lovely almond-shaped eyes were tawny in color, a brilliant golden brown.  Her eyes made him think of a splendid, sunny summer day, full of promise and hope. 

Next, he noticed the dark bruises that ringed each eye.  He gasped in shock, then scowled in anger.  He reached out impulsively and caressed her cheek so gently that it felt like an angel’s kiss.  “Who? How?”  He worked hard to control his anger.  If he could destroy a town with a dream, there was no telling what he could do in anger. 

She slid the shades on again, concealing the results of her boyfriend’s latest rage.  Ex-boyfriend.  There was no way she was going back.  She had had enough. 

He was staring now.  She shifted uncomfortably.  She realized that he was waiting for the answer to his question.  She cleared her throat.  “As to that, well this is what happens when I am a little late arriving home.” He said nothing, only waited for her to continue.  “My ex was a little possessive.  He did not live with me, but he would make a habit of waiting outside my home to see what time I returned.  If I were late and did not have a suitable reason… Sometimes he did not wait for me to explain.” 

At her words, his rage flew higher than he had ever known it.  No man ever put their hands on his woman and lived through it. That thought gave him pause.  When had she become his woman? Surely, he was only outraged that a man had hit a woman. 

There was a commotion ahead.  The passengers were staring at ruins that were burning out of control.  The fire had suddenly appeared, all-consuming and fierce.  It raged, burning buildings and debris that already lay in ruin. 

He sighed.  So that’s what happened when he let anger get the best of him.  He knew that he was the cause of the flames.  He did not know how he knew, but he knew to the very core of his being that he had somehow conjured the flames. 

If I can conjure flame, then maybe I can conjure water.  It’s worth a try.  He began to focus all of his power and attention on conjuring the water.  He saw it in his mind’s eye.  Rain.  A nice, gentle rain.  Nothing happened.  He beat the rising frustration into the back of his mind.  Opposites.  Rage had caused fire and destruction.  Yes, his dream had been one of retribution born of anger.  What he needed now was calm.  He closed his eyes and began to meditate.  A calm descended upon him and he smiled.  When he opened his eyes again, it was to the sight of a steady and gentle rain.  The rain extinguished the flames he had caused.  He realized that meditation would strengthen his mind and might be the tool he needed to control what was in him.   He vowed to himself to meditate regularly and strengthen his control. 

She gasped.  “You… you did that. I saw you. I was watching. This sounds crazy I know but… You called the rain. You must be a sorcerer.” 

“Sorcerer? What do you know of sorcerers?”

“I know plenty.  I know that only a sorcerer could call the rain as you did.  I know that a sorcerer’s rage… “she trailed off as the realization struck. She looked at him intently.  “You…” she breathed. 

He leaned closer. “I what?” he challenged. 

He was close enough to smell her.  He wanted more.  He wanted to drown in the scent of her- the feel of her.  She was on the verge of ruining him; he was at her mercy.  Yet, all he could think of was how much he wanted her.

She cleared her throat again and put a little space between them.  “It was as though a bomb had detonated.  I mean, everyone heard the explosion… felt the shockwaves ripple.  I must know now. Did you…?”  She could not bring herself to complete the question.

He sighed and ran his fingers through his jet black hair, which was unstylishly long.  “You know, one should never ask a question to which she does not want the answer.”

“But I do want the answer. I have been through hell and back again. I have stared Death in the face many times.  I have not come through unscathed, but I have come through stronger.  I can handle anything you could possibly tell me.  I have trusted you- trusted that your response would be what I needed it to be.  Trust me.  Trust that I will respond the way you need me to.  You have nothing to fear from me.”

“You’re wrong,” he countered. “I have everything to fear from you. You could be my ruination.”

“Or your salvation.”

“Or that,” he allowed.

“Try me.”

“It was a dream. I had a bad dream.  I awoke to the reality that somehow, my dreams caused the devastation we see before us.  I still have not made the connection between the dream and the reality.  Maybe I never will.” Here, he paused to be sure once again that they were not overheard.  “I felt the shimmer of the power around me and I somehow knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was responsible.  I am terrified of this happening again, and so I leave behind all I know to forge a life in a place where the devastation will not be as great should I dare to dream again.”

She swallowed. “I see. Tell me truly, now.  The fire was yours too, wasn’t it?”

“You know the answer to that.”

“I want to hear it from you,” she countered.

He had to admit, to himself at least, that she had spirit.  She was a strong one, his Calysta was.  He no longer questioned that, for he knew in his heart that she was the woman he had waited his whole life for.  Funny.  Men never would admit to seeking out love and yet, when they had met their match, they seemed to know it instantly.  The problem was that they either had trouble recognizing it at first or they refused to recognize it.  The age-old fear of settling down with one person.  Something about being bound to one woman for a lifetime seemed so finite.  It would give even the strongest man the shivers.  Yet, he found himself looking forward to it.  Eternity with Calysta seemed not an ending, as one would expect, but rather, a beginning.

“Well?” she prodded.  He blinked, and then smiled apologetically.  His face burned with the heat of his embarrassment as he realized that he’d been caught staring at her, like an untried youth entranced by an experienced lover.  He sighed.  It seems he’d have to disclose all to her.  “Yes. It was mine.  I became enraged that someone- a man, at that- would put his hands on you.”

She nodded.  “I suspected as much.”  She paused, as though in careful consideration.  “You need not worry about me spilling your secrets.  I know the terrible price to be paid for any indiscretion on my part.  I cannot have that on my part.  Besides, you did not shy away from me or blame me when I shared my secrets with you.  For that, you have my everlasting gratitude.” 

He shifted a little in his chair. “Where do we go from here?  I just met you, but I confess to feeling somehow drawn to you.”

“I guess this truly is a day for sharing secrets,” she answered. “I feel as though I have known you my whole life.  Maybe you’re the man I’ve been waiting for my entire life. I take it you’re not obligated elsewhere?”

“No.”

“Well.”

“Well,” he echoed. “I think the best course of action would be for us to go far, far away together.”  At her raised eyebrow, he chuckled a little and explained, “it’s where you said you were going. As my only destination was ‘anywhere not here and not overly populated,’ I think yours sounds a heck of a lot better.”

“What do I gain from such an alliance with you?”

“How about protection? Friendship? Someone to share at least the next portion of your life with without fear of judgment? Someone who will, even if they can’t empathize with you, will never fail to sympathize?” 

“That all sounds good and well.  I cannot question your trust, for I know somehow that I can trust you.  As for protection, I know you could provide that.  I do think that I may need it someday.  There is comfort in numbers.”

“I will take that as a yes then.  May I sit next to you, so that we can discuss our plans in greater detail?”

“Yes. I think that under the circumstances, we should start over.”

“Oh?”

She smiled, the first genuine smile he’d seen from her, and his heart leapt.  She had the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.  It was as like seeing the sun after a storm. He got up and took the seat next to hers.  Together, they began to plot their future. It looked bright indeed.

Reviews

[No one]

I enjoyed this piece, even so much I decided to read to the finish and leave this review even if it means the people waiting for me out in the car will pelt me rotten tomatoes when I get out there. Your imagery works well but in some places seems overdone:
--->He stared first at his own reflection, losing himself in the deep green of his eyes, which had once been reminiscent of the greenery of the most lush forest glade.

His attention was drawn by the sudden change in the mood of the bus. The few other passengers seemed to be riveted by something or someone at the front of the bus. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he turned away from the window and directed his gaze towards the front of the bus. Almost thirstily, his eyes drank in the features of the woman who had just boarded. What he could see of her hair, which was mostly covered by a scarf, was so black that it was almost blue. This contrasted against her creamy skin. He wondered why she hid such wondrous hair under such a simple scarf. He was suddenly assailed by an urge to stroll up to her and snatch the scarf away in anger that she would hide such beauty � that she would attempt to tame her rich waves under such an unworthy bit of cloth. It was contemptible that she would do such a thing.

He pulled himself away from such fantasy, letting his eyes slide once again over the entrancing beauty before him. Her delicate brows were arched precisely, which gave him the impression that she cared for herself lovingly. He wondered what her eyes looked like under the dark glasses that she wore. Pity, he thought, that she is hiding. As he watched, she seemed to notice the attention she drew. Rather than fill her with pride, as it would were it any other woman, she seemed to shrink away from the passengers' perusal. He wondered why she would hide such beauty and why she seemed to shrink away from the attention it caused. He sighed and tore his gaze away from her. He wanted to drink in all of her. He wanted to gaze into her eyes and examine her very soul. He wanted to trail his fingers along her skin- to know whether it was as soft as it appeared. Ah, but his fingers tingled with longing to do just that. However, he always respected other people's space and sought always to make them comfortable. His intense gaze would have the opposite effect, he sensed. Out of respect for her unvoiced wishes, he would deny himself the pleasure of feasting upon her beauty, though his eyes longed once more to slide over her delicate frame.

Losing interest, the other passengers had long ago turned their gazes elsewhere. The mood of the bus resumed its monotonous tedium. The woman made her way towards the back of the bus, toward him. He waited. He was at the very back of the bus, so she could not sit behind him. He hoped that she would sit where he could have a clear view of her. He could not fight the urge to look at her, but he would do so covertly. He would steal glances while she was unaware. It was less than honorable to do so, but he could not help himself. She fascinated him. He was driven by a sudden and intense urge to get to know her better, but how? Can he really see details like her finely arched eyebrows if she's wearing dark sunglasses (women's sunglasses usually cover eyebrows) and he's also sitting at the BACK of the bus? That just didn't seem true to life.
If I were you I'd go back and read through this story, cutting out any sentences whose main ideas are repeated, removing unnecessary words like green after emerald, and check to see if descriptive sequences don't last so long that they get boring and go out of sync with real time. If the woman's walking to the back of the bus then show everything he sees and give a few of his thoughts until she sits down. Do all this because you have a great idea and a great start here, but it needs polishing.

[Tony]

Full and engrossing. Short and Sweet.

[Travis Lawrence]

Okay, wow, helluva story you've got here, and to me it doesn't seem finished! There is a conclusion, but yes, I am so intrigued by his powers and how she will tame them or send them to appocalypse. Your prose is powerful, too. The imagery is great, the insight into the protagonist is great, and the way your sentances and story flows are like rivers draining into oceans of thought. I really, really like it! I could especially relate, because I met a woman on a plane like this once, and the impressions were similar to what you describe in the story. Well done, seriously.

That said, I have some constructive criticism:

I think, maybe, you should expand your first two paragraphs. You seem to tell me about this man's troubled mind at first more than show it to me. For example...

"There was no indication of any emotion in his eyes � human or otherwise." -- I know, you vividly describe how his eyes are empty of emotion. I think, you may be able to cut this line out altogether, because it's already implied.

and...

"Rather than cheer him, the scenery served only as a very real reminder of his losses." -- Here, too, you're about to go into great detail to SHOW the reader that he is considering loss. Again, I'd scrap this sentance altogether.

Besides the first couple parahraphs, here are other lines that I would cut for the same reasons, though they are just suggestions:

"He wondered why she would hide such beauty and why she seemed to shrink away from the attention it caused."
"It was his reason for boarding the bus and leaving behind all he knew."
"He realized that meditation would strengthen his mind and might be the tool he needed to control what was in him."

Other than that, I found that you were unnecessarily repetitive at times. For example...

"His attention was drawn by the sudden change in the mood of the bus. The few other passengers seemed to be riveted by something or someone at the front of the bus. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he turned away from the window and directed his gaze towards the front of the bus."

Each of these three sentances end with "of the bus", which has already established itself as the setting. You don't need to bother lengthening the story in this way, and it is actually kind of annoying to be told where they are, over and over again.

And later...

"The woman made her way towards the back of the bus, toward him. He waited. He was at the very back of the bus, so she could not sit behind him."

Again, we know we are on a bus, no need to say so again. Just watch out for that kind of stuff, it can clutter an otherwise excellent paragraph.

Anyway, I do really enjoy the way you write. I've reviewed quite a bit today, but I'll be back later to read more of your work. Feel free to send me any read requests, too, of anything you'd like reviewed.

Have a nice day!

[deadlife]

Amazing..A journey started to nowhere (in a sense)...Eventually led to the most sought after destination..towards life.
Beautiful.
Very well written..i was feeling when i was reading it..the words..emotions..Everything is excellent.
A monotonous bus ride, passengers, aliens, one man, past, a lady, past again, bits of spark, flashes, past once again, feelings, pain, truth, anger, love, courage, love, and love, then love...Beautiful.
A great write.
Thanks for sharing.

Regards
rupam