Mrs. Marcy, the neighbor from upstairs, said she saw you the other night, shivering behind the Greyhound Bus Station. I went to look for myself. There was an old man warming his hands over a burning garbage can. I asked if he’d seen a brown eyed girl with a missing pinkie finger. He didn’t answer, just blew on his hands and stared into the flame.
When we were kids, you talked about living like a hobo, living in train cars, basements and abandoned buildings. You weren’t scared, not even then.
I told you that was ok––I could be scared for both of us.
once upon a time...
4 Replies to “One Way to Nowhere”
Who was the man behind the greyhound station? Was it you the brown eyes girl to see if he recognized you?
Ah, we don’t know who the man is or even who is telling the story. It’s just a postcard that was found in an old shoebox. Maybe we’ll find more as we dig deeper into the box:)
I especially loved and related to this. As a kid, I lived in a small railroad town and remember seeing men warming their hands over smoking barrel.
I remember seeing people warm their hands over barrels as well. I’ve always been fascinated by stories that have hobos or wanderers as the main character. There’s just something about having no ties that is a little romantic…
Word of the Year-2025
For my 2025 word of the year, I chose COURAGE. I know, it’s not the most original pick—but hear me out. Something about courage stuck with me this time, especially after watching a documentary on The Tragically Hip. For those unfamiliar, they’re kind of a Canadian thing. A band that
Hinterland is Real
They say seeing is believing. I didn’t know what that meant until that night. I was coming home late, later than I should, and I knew I was going to catch heck. Momma didn’t even pretend to be patient when me or my sister wasn’t home in time for dinner.
Deadly Mist
The mist crept closer, slithering across the boot prints she left behind on the soft, moist ground. She urged her legs to go faster over the uneven path. A leafless tree grabbed at the flying strands of her long silver hair as she ran past. They hung like shiny tinsel