At an hour so late
and in a place so remote
that there’s no light at all
-- save for the amber
luminance of a full moon --
an overnight Greyhound
darts its way across a
forgotten highway.
The high beams flash over
the asphalt of the desolate
road, cutting a slender line
in the darkness.
*
Only three passengers are
riding the bus. Each
assumes the others are
asleep, since they’re all
slouched against the side of
the bus with their heads
against the glass. But the
rattling on their skulls as
the bus grinds against the
road is too intense for
anything but feigned rest.
*
The man closest to the front
of the bus is using his
oversized beanie as a pillow.
He’s peering out the
window opposite him,
fixated on the moon. It’s
especially large tonight, low
and yellow on the horizon.
From his perspective, the
base of it is touching a
rolling hill in the distance.
*
A moment before he’s about
to look away, something
rises from the ground and
unfurls in front of the
moon, silhouetted before it
like fingers under a
lampshade. To him, it looks
like an enormous snake,
uncoiling itself from the
dewy grass and rearing its
head upwards. It looks
towards the sky and extends
its jaws fully, as if yawning.
Or maybe howling into the
night air in silent anguish.
*
Meanwhile, a woman sitting
in the bus’s center rows also
notices a shadow crawl
before the moon. She
removes her thin wire
glasses from her breast
pocket and cleans them on
her shirt, before pressing
them onto the bridge of her
nose. Squinting, she spies a
gigantic goat, with lengthy
horns that curl onto
themselves five times before
running their length. The
beast grinds its hooves
repeatedly against the
ground, throwing its head
from side to side in a violent
rhythm.
*
Near the back of the bus, a
teenager, who until then
had been gazing out the
opposite window, lifts his
head from the glass and
turns to face the other
direction – he’s just in time.
When he looks, he sees a
lion with two heads, one for
each end of its body. The
heads are fighting for
dominance, stretching their
shared torso with grotesque
elasticity. One roars in
anger and claws upwards at
the air, while the other
clings desperately to the
ground.
*
All three passengers,
privately transfixed, gaze in
disbelief. After a few
seconds pass, the creature
leaps for the moon and
destroys it. The snake
unhinges its maw around
the celestial body and
devours it whole. The goat
pierces the moon with its
horns and shatters it to
fragments. The lion’s angry
head catches the moon in its
teeth; it ruptures and
deflates like a balloon.
When it’s done, darkness
conquers. Only the sickly
florescence of the
Greyhound’s headlights
pierces the night.
*
Hours later, as dawn breaks
from the horizon, the bus
arrives at its destination. It
rolls to a stop and parks
about a hundred meters
from the sea. Morning mist
rolls over the coastline.
Seagulls circle overhead,
squawking in a chorus. The
passengers shuffle inertly
towards the exit.
*
“Did you sleep well?” asks
the driver. He receives no
response. He watches his
passengers fetch their bags
for a moment, before
directing his gaze towards
the ocean. The tides are
absent. It’s eerily still; an
enormous glass sheet
encasing the globe. It
ripples on occasion as a
uniform body, rattling.