The Wanderer
By A. Scott Boddie
Published by JMS Books LLC at Smashwords
Visit jms-books.com for more information.
Copyright 2011 A. Scott Boddie
ISBN 9781611522051
For more titles by A. Scott Boddie at Smashwords visit https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/ascottboddie
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Cover Photo Credit: IsabellSchatz
Used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.
Cover Design: J.M. Snyder
All Rights Reserved
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published in the United States of America.
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The Wanderer
By A. Scott Boddie
As the story goes, there was a new moon, and her opal face was beaming in the night. Three lifelong friends from the Upper East Side, an affluent area of Manhattan, were preparing for the New York City Halloween parade. After meeting at Ronald’s house, they had a few cocktails and laughs before heading out his building on East 76th Street and 2nd Avenue.
With the darling of the stars bathing the night sky with luminosity, Ronald, Cherie, and Bradford decided to catch the number 6 subway train from the 77th Street Lenox Hill subway station down the eastside to Union Square Station. On the platform as the train entered, Ronald noticed a large grey rat running toward them and a dark stranger following. It almost seemed as if the rat was running from that person.
When Cherie stepped in the subway car, the lights flickered in a way that made her uneasy. They dimmed, and never returned to their original brightness. The long rows of seats flowed down both sides of the subway car. She looked around at the creepy crowd and couldn’t decide to sit or stand.
There were sixteen people in various positions, but it was an old Asian woman who caught Cherie’s eye.
The rat ran right over the friends’ shoes into the same subway car as they entered. The dark stranger followed.
The rat went crazy, jumping all over the passengers in a wild frenzy. It moved from one person to the next until it was at the end of the car, trapped. In a final attempt to scurry, the rat jumped on a sleeping homeless man and ran up his leg—all the way to his face. The homeless man awoke to the rat staring him directly in his eyes. He screamed, the shrieks so violent that Cherie, now standing next to the dark stranger, grabbed him to protect her.
“I’m so sorry for grabbing you like I know you,” Cherie said, still holding onto the stranger’s arm and leaping onto a seat.
“What the hell!” Ronald blurted out.
The subway car was dank and poorly lit. It was perfectly eerie.
“No worries. I’ll get rid of that rat if it’ll make you more comfortable.” The stranger walked down the car as they pulled into the next station at 110th Street. The rat looked at the stranger approaching and darted out the subway car the moment the doors opened.
“That guy is cute and mysterious,” Cherie said to the boys.
“He’s fuckin’ delicious,” Ronald said, examining the stranger up and down as he walked back toward them. “But he looks like he needs a bath. I’ll give him points for the Goth thing. He looks like death,”
“Girl, you ain’t never lied—he’s sooo hot,” Bradford said as he moved to allow the stranger into their inner circle.
The stranger began, “I’m Willow—”
“Oh, snap, did you see that shit? Cherie yelled, interrupting Willow’s introduction.
“Girl, you scared the hell out of me, what the fuck are you talking about?” Ronald said with all the girl in him.
“That old bitch’s face just went Skeletor.”
“Girl, chill the fuck out, this ride is creepy enough without you trippin’,” Bradford said, trying to control the situation.
“Why then is she looking at me like that?”
“Because you’re flipping the fuck out on mass transit,” Ronald answered.
The train pulled into the next stop and a hoard of Halloween partiers headed to the West Village jammed into the car. The rampage of people pushed the foursome deeper into the middle of the car. When the dust settled, Cherie found herself standing right next to the old Asian woman.
Her hair was midnight black, thick, and frayed out like the straws of an old style broom. She leered at Cherie with a malign look, and just when Cherie was about to nervously say hello, the old woman belted out, “Immanence.”
“Did you hear that?” Cherie asked the boys.
“Did she say immanence?”
“What is that, Mandarin?” Bradford wondered.
“No, it means the human world is open and the ghostly plane walks freely,” Willow explained.
Bradford’s eyes watered as a foul odor permeated the subway car. When his vision cleared, he saw a young Mexican girl in the last seat on the train. She had a newborn baby cradled in her arms. The woman wore a black faded hoodie that completely covered her face. She looked dead. She held her baby low. The baby, wrapped in a dirty black towel, began to wail—a cry so loud, it was piercing. The mother never looked up or consoled the baby.
“Who are these weird ass people?” Bradford remarked.
“Are you going to the Halloween parade?” Cherie asked Willow, ignoring Bradford.
“Yes, I’m looking for my boyfriend. We’re supposed to meet where Christopher Street forks into the Avenue of America and Greenwich.”
“So, you have a boyfriend,” Cherie flatly replied.
“Nice dude, you should come with,” Bradford said as he looked at the gang for confirmation.
“Sure, we’re getting off at 14th Street Union Station and walking down to Christopher Street,” Cherie interjected.
Bradford examined Willow very carefully. “You’re a little weird—I like that. Who made your outfit, man? The makeup is flawless.”
“Some guys I met where we’re going, they did it all to me.”
“Sweet! Come on, guys, this is our stop.” Cherie grabbed Willow by the arm, pulled him toward the doors, and jumped out.
The train station pulsed with the walking dead, witches, werewolves, and humans in celebrity costumes.
“This is just like home,” Willow said to the gang.
“So, Willow,” Ronald broke in, “how long have you and your boyfriend been together?”
“Five years.”
“Why did you guys decide to meet in this crowd? You should’ve come together,” Cherie teased Willow, still holding his arm as they walked down 14th Street.
“We were separated—it’s a very long story, I’m just wandering.”
“What’s his name?”
“Jason.”
“Well, come along, we’ll get you down there in a jiffy.” Cherie jerked Willow’s arm, pulling him alongside her, right into the heart of the Halloween crowd.
Parade goers moved in every direction and Cherie felt Willow let go of her arm. The crowd swirled and the gang became lost in the human whirlpool, without Willow.
He was gone in a blink of an eye.
The friends continued on their pilgrimage down to Christopher Street.
“Honey, I can tell you right now, this is my last parade,” Ronald said as he sent an update to his Twitter feed through his cell phone..
“Put that phone away before you lose it again,” Cherie demanded.
“It’s just too damn crowded,” Ronald continued, ignoring her. “We already lost one person.”
“Where’s mine?” Bradford searched all the pockets of his brown cargo pants.
“Look in the legs,” Cherie said.
“Fuck, please don’t tell me—oh, here it is,” he sighed as they began to walk faster.
“Stop, let’s take a picture,” Ronald said.
They did, and crowded around Ronald’s phone to see the image.
“That’s cute,” Bradford said. “Send it to me so I can make it my profile pic on Facebook.”
“Me, too,” Cherie said with a laugh. “My caption reads, ‘the one night I’m not the only freak, lol.’”
“Cherie, I hope Willow is okay,” Bradford murmured.
“Every sissy this side of the rainbow will be surrounding him. He’ll be fine.”
“We’re almost there anyway.” Ronald pointed up ahead. “What’s going on over there by that lamppost?”
“Are they praying with all those candles and flowers?”
“No, Cherie, it’s what they do when they have a memorial.”
“Is that a picture of Willow?” Cherie inquired. She shoved through the crowd to get a better look. To a young man beside the memorial, she said, “Sir, excuse me, is that picture of a guy named Willow?
“Yes, he was my boyfriend. He was a victim of gay bashing.”
“You’re Jason?” she asked, incredulous. “He’s dead?”
“Yes, I’m Jason. Willow died one year ago today on Halloween, on this very spot.”
Cherie, Bradford, and Ronald exchanged glances. “What the fuck!”
THE END
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ABOUT A. SCOTT BODDIE
A. Scott Boddie is a graduate of Baker College, holding a BBA and a MBA; however, the business world was no substitute for his love of writing. He resigned from his business job to pursue a career as a writer.
ABOUT JMS BOOKS LLC
Founded in 2010, JMS Books LLC is owned and operated by author J.M. Snyder. We publish a variety of genres, including gay erotic romance, fantasy, young adult, poetry, and nonfiction. Short stories and novellas are available as e-books and compiled into single-author print anthologies, while any story over 30k in length is available in both print and e-book formats. Visit us at jms-books.com for our latest releases and submission guidelines!