Friday 31st October. The sun will set at 4:39pm and a full moon will rise. People set a lot of store by the moon. And quite rightly too. But contrary to popular belief, it’s not at midnight, when the full moon is at its peak that the crazy stuff happens. It’s when the sun disappears and the moon suddenly takes control – that’s the moment. 4:39pm.
It’s 4:28pm when I’m walking to the bus stop. It’s raining, and the tiny shelter is cramped with people who’re just leaving work, moody and waiting to get home. Back to their warm houses, their loved ones.
The weather plays hell with my arthritis, and I’m practically limping as I get to the shelter. Everyone is so immersed in their damn mobile phones or their music-players that they don’t notice an old man in discomfort. I’m forced to huddle in as best I can, but one of the window panels is broken and the rain ends up hitting me anyway.
But then I’m pleasantly surprised by one young lady, who sees me and moves. She smiles kindly and offers me her seat. Well, what do you know? A diamond in a coal heap. I thank her sincerely and sit, massaging my bad leg as we all wait.
I check my watch: 4:37pm. I can sense that it’s coming, but it’s become a habit to check the time anyway. It’s somehow reaffirming, you know? The pain in my leg starts to fade. I look down at the hand and watch as my fingers elongate, my nails sharpen… It’s an odd sensation, feeling all of your bones realign themselves simultaneously. I never have been able to get used to it – it still makes me twitchy.
The obnoxious guy sitting next to me scowls at my fidgeting. I think I’ll start with him.
At 4:39pm the change happens and I let loose. The obnoxious guy doesn’t even get the chance to look up from his phone before I rip out his throat. None of them have a chance.
It’s 4:41pm when the bus finally pulls up. The moon’s moment has passed, and my leg is aching again. I’ve gotten quite good at keeping the blood off my clothes, but I have to take out a handkerchief and wipe my hands before I can pick up my bus pass. Wouldn’t want it to get it dirty.
Out of politeness, I offer the only other person left in the shelter the first entrance into the bus. She did give me her seat, after all. A very respectful young lady. But the poor girl is frozen. She’s looking at me with wide eyes and doesn’t seem to want to move. It’s understandable – sometimes blood has that effect on people. Still, I’m getting chilly so I wave to her and hope she won’t mind me getting on first.
On the bus, I greet the driver as my pass beeps. I see the girl running wildly down the street through the window and hope she makes it home safely. You can’t be too careful these days.
This short story by Hayley is not in the Restless Minds anthology. Check out Hayley’s bio here.
Restless Minds 