Day of Terror

A Picture Story from Jeff's Portrait of Words




He was standing on the corner waiting for the number 012 bus ,which was late as usual. I knew when I saw him that he was suffering.
I’m a dragon and we can see things like that. Despite his fake smile and his image of the happy go lucky young man he was hurting. No amount of fancy necklaces or fancy hats , if you can call a fedora fancy, can hide inner pain. He was hurting.
So I followed him onto the bus. Being invisible, as I sometimes am, has its perks and following people is one of them. He sat down next to a sweet little old lady who immediately got up and moved to another seat. He must have scared her. It was too bad she moved because he could have used some sweet old lady talk to make him feel better. You know, like an on bus mother.
He was so sad that I tried looking into his mind. Sometimes we dragons can do that but I’m not as good as the others.
I kept seeing a bucket of rusty screws and somebody pulled them out one by one and the bucket screamed. I can see these things but I can’t always interpret them.
Like the time I looked into the ladies mind and saw a lama running down the hill. I never would have guessed she was planning a trip to Latin America but she was.
I felt sure he wasn’t planning a trip to a bucket of bolts but it had to have some meaning. Perhaps, he wanted to be a carpenter but part of him didn’t. That could make you sad.
We got off at the First and Lexington stop, you know the one across from the bowling alley with that stupid two story bowling pin out in front. I think that is such an affront to sensitive eyes. But I digress.
My young man stood there on the corner for a long time. His look of sadness turned to one of sheer terror. He didn’t know I was there to protect him. I am very good at protecting you know. Very good!
Now he moved very very slowly toward the bowling alley. I wondered if there was something going on there. It could be a gang of some kind that ordered him to come here and threatened his mother if he didn’t. But the gang wouldn’t have known I would protect him.
But he walked past the bowling alley and entered the fancy new office building next door. He seemed so out of place in that sparkling clean lobby. He took the elevator to the third floor. I, of course , rode up with him. If I had been my material self I never would have fit in that elevator.
Now his hands were shaking. His look of sheer terror increased. But I was there to protect him.
He opened a door and entered. Perhaps, this was his drug connection. He was there to report he lost the last shipment. They would then kill him. But I wouldn’t let them
A nice lady was sitting at the desk. She said, “Have a seat the dentist will see you shortly”.
Now it all made sense. Now I understood the rusty screws.
A Dragon story. Copyright whenever. Portions of this story may not be used for any other purpose than telling the dragon what a great writer he is.