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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Dinner is Prompt-ly at Eight - 25. Chapter 25 - What'll I do...

Prompts -
Someone’s red journal
A yellow bus
Berlin last summer

What’ll I do…

“Is anyone sitting here?” the woman asked, leaning so close Thad her flowery perfume filled his sinuses.

“No,” he said, scooting over and picking up his Walkman off the cushion, the headphones and cord wrapped around the tape player.

“The bus is getting pretty full,” she said unnecessarily. There were only a few seats open that he could see. The cigarette smoke and noise of people settling in was overwhelming him. He’d hoped for a quiet, tranquil ride to Chattanooga, but apparently that was too much to ask.

“I tried sitting with the girl up there. I picked up a red journal on the space next to her, and she freaked out on me.”

She maneuvered her solid, bulky frame into the small space and plopped down sighing with relief. After wiggling a bit, she brushed back her long curly black locks and a whisper of talcum powder wafted off her. In spite of being rather sweaty and bedraggled, the woman smelled nice.

The man stroked his gray beard, combing it a bit with his fingers. Finally, he held out a hand, a bit wrinkled and skeletal, but still strong. “I’m Thad Kelly.”

“Dorcas Lightfoot,” she answered, giving his hand a delicate shake. “Where are you headed?”

Thad smiled and said, “Tennessee and you?”

She paused, as if gauging his worthiness for such information, and answered, “I’m getting off in Louisville. My sister lives there. She’s expecting me.”

“Ah,” Thad said. The woman appraised him warily, gauging his countenance and aspect.

“What drives you to the South?”

Thad blinked, surprised at both the wording and the audaciousness of the question. He turned and looked out the window, a yellow school bus lumbered past them. It was filled with kids screaming out the open windows. They were happy with a whole life ahead of them. Little did they know their generation would have a plague as well. Every generation does. A crop of them fall to a disease or war or some other malady.

Thad was surprised at how morose a school bus of kids had made him.

He felt a hand on his forearm, warm and gentle, and with it, the small of rose and talc, motherly and reassuring.

“I’m sorry I pried. I get a bit nosy sometimes.”

“No,” Thad said, realizing it didn’t really matter. “I’m going to a funeral.”

“Relative?” she asked softly.

“No,” he replied, giving her a wry grin, “A friend. A very close friend died.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said, leaning closer. “Death is always difficult.”

Thad nodded.

He turned away and unwrapped the cord from around the cassette player. Fitting the foam-covered earpieces on and adjusting the headband, he hit the play button.

The tinkle of piano started, and then Judy Garland sang,

“What’ll I do…”

He felt a tear trickle down his cheek. Thad rubbed the purple lesion on his arm, hidden beneath his coat. It was just last summer he’d listened to this song with Ray and they made love into the wee hours of the morning.

Now, he was going to his funeral.

Please check out Valkyrie's prompt post using the same ideas at Promptings from Valhalla.
Thanks
Copyright © 2017 Cole Matthews; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Chapter Comments

  • Site Administrator

😢 Very sad.  I hope he was able to find some comfort in Dorcas' company.  :hug:  

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Dorcas would probably have immediately changed her seat had she know of the lesion. At best, she would have stopped touching him. At worst, she would have demanded that Thad be put off the bus!

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You got to me, Cole. I haven't seen one of those lesions in a long, long time, but I remember clearly what they look like, and what they meant. A solitary bus ride really added to the overall sadness... well done... cheers... Gary....

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Argh, you're always doing this to me, Cole... Very well written but I would have hoped for  dash of hope, big fan of Pandora's box here 

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On 5/1/2018 at 5:43 PM, Valkyrie said:

😢 Very sad.  I hope he was able to find some comfort in Dorcas' company.  :hug:  

 

I think she was a good distraction and a good way for him to get himself together.  Thanks darling!

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On 5/1/2018 at 6:27 PM, dughlas said:

So sad ...

 

It is, but I wanted to have a little peek into the past.  Thanks for the comment.  

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On 5/1/2018 at 8:12 PM, droughtquake said:

Dorcas would probably have immediately changed her seat had she know of the lesion. At best, she would have stopped touching him. At worst, she would have demanded that Thad be put off the bus!

 

Maybe, maybe not.  The Dorcas I had in mind would be nervous about it, but she is compassionate as well.  You could be right, because that happened quite a bit as well. 

 

Thanks for the comment!

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On 5/2/2018 at 12:14 AM, Headstall said:

You got to me, Cole. I haven't seen one of those lesions in a long, long time, but I remember clearly what they look like, and what they meant. A solitary bus ride really added to the overall sadness... well done... cheers... Gary....

 

Thanks Gary!  We are fortunate they've figured out how to stop this plague.  It was such a common occurrence to see in my twenties when I worked at a gay bar.  I wanted a little remembrance of them.  

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On 5/2/2018 at 4:23 AM, aditus said:

Argh, you're always doing this to me, Cole... Very well written but I would have hoped for  dash of hope, big fan of Pandora's box here 

 

I probably would have given a little dash of something sweet if it was longer.  Unfortunately, it was a scene I saw too many times in the past. 

Thanks for the lovely comment.  

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On 5/2/2018 at 6:42 AM, mfa607 said:

Sad, but perfect. Thank you. 

 

Thank you for the kind words.  I'm glad it touched you. 

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On 5/2/2018 at 1:19 PM, deville said:

Beautifully written but over whelmingly sad. 

 

Thanks for the kind words.  It is very sad, but I wanted to capture the sense of that era for people who experienced AIDS.  It wasn't just dying, but losing those around you as well.

I appreciate your comment.  

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