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 I had seen many diners like this one on my trip in the deep south. Small, clean, filled with a smattering of locals, most of them friendly and hospitable. Opening the door, I walked inside while a handful of people stared in my direction, craning their necks to see if I were someone they could greet, or maybe ignore. Instead, neutral glances met my own gaze and up to the counter I went. Nothing seemed different about this stop, from the outside or within. In my journeys, I had met many interesting people and heard countless tales of fact and fiction alike, but at this particular town (of which I will not name), no story compared with what I heard there. Sitting at a sturdy leather backed stool, one of those swivel types, of which you can at least have the leisure to sway back and forth, I politely ordered the house lunch special, which was corned beef with home made fries on the side, and there I waited. After a few minutes, the front door opened and since I had nothing else to do at the moment, I looked to the newcomer, as did everyone else in the place. In walked a tall thin man, maybe thirty or so, wearing overalls and a simple straw hat. He was very ordinary looking, and my first impression was that the man appeared a common resident of the town, no one of special import. Here I was dreadfully wrong. For a brief moment, the diner ceased to breathe. The tension was palpable, and I was caught up in the feeling myself, without a concept of an outward reason. Everyone stopped whatever they were engaging in, whether conversation or eating, and then the strangest thing occurred. Almost in unison, the residents greeted the man with extreme regard and politeness. "Hello Lewis," said a burly man sitting to my right. "Hey there, Lewis," was the response from a older man who was smoking a cigar in between morsels. A young couple, eating together near the door, spoke quickly in tones that expressed an underlying nervousness, and welcomed the man to the diner. Among at least a dozen or more guests, I was the only outsider, and felt it strongly in this odd situation. Lewis, as he was undoubtedly called, proceeded to the counter, and the owner of the diner very courteously asked him what he would have. Lewis had not spoken a word yet, and failed to even acknowledge a single greeting. If anything, he ignored the people without a hint of recognition on his face. He simply stood at the counter, head cocked to one side, as if listening to something that was oblivious to the rest of us. A young lady seated at the rear of the diner had been tuning a portable radio earlier, but now she had shut it off with the arrival of Lewis. Not a phrase was uttered while the man remained standing at the counter, intently focused on some unknown thought. My mouth must have been open for a span of time, for I had to gulp down saliva due from not swallowing during the weird incident. As my throat constricted, Lewis turned to me, looking straight in my eyes. We locked gazes, and my pulse quickened. I don't know why, but there was a tremendous feeling of discomfort in meeting this stranger. There existed a tingle of the unknown, a brush against the incomprehensible, that I had never felt before or since. I was totally entranced. "How about a soda float, Lewis?" The spell was broken as the proprietor offered a drink to Lewis, and he averted his eyes from mine. I felt the tightness in my chest decrease as he focused elsewhere. Still not speaking, he nodded, and simply leaned there, staring at the wall until his drink was made. "On the house, Lewis," said the owner, as he brought out a huge drink for the man, complete with spoon and extra napkins. Lewis picked the float up, and slowly walked to the door. The exact thing happened as when he entered, but with farewells substituting the previous greetings. The whole scene was so bizarre, and I sat there, my anxiety diminished now that Lewis was gone. The people returned to their earlier postures, disregarding the man through circumspect actions, but in their eyes I read suppressed relief. I have never been one to leave rocks unturned, so I pivoted to the burly man seated next to me, curious for answers. "This Lewis must be the town favorite, if I'm not mistaken." The man did not respond, but the owner gave me a sharp look from behind the counter. "Sorry, did I say something wrong?" Shaking my head softly, I waited for a reply, but there was none. The burly man raised himself up, and left his seat, putting down a few dollars for his meal. He quietly left without a sound. Perplexed, I could only lift up my hands in a gesture of ignorance. Maybe this town was not so normal, I began to think. The older man with the cigar had been observing my remarks, and now he came towards me. Not knowing what to expect, I said nothing, as he sat down next to me. "We don't get many strangers around here, and most would prefer it that way." He bit down on the cigar, giving me a strong whiff of the flavor. "I don't mind, but I look at things differently. There's a story behind the fellow you just saw, and believe me, you may not want to hear what I'm going to tell you." The owner walked over, and said "John, I think that's about enough. This man should be leaving town soon anyway, there's no motel here." "Richard, live in your own fears. When you get to my age, you might change your mind. What's done is done. Besides, nothing has ever happened since that day, you know that. He's not likely to do any harm, never has." John and Richard seemed to be waging a silent struggle of wills, and then the owner dropped his gaze. "Say what you want then, I was there too, and I can't forget. Ever." He walked away, waiting on someone further down. John continued. "Yeah, Richard was there, on that unbelievable, magical day. For those of us who saw, though, that will stay with us forever." I was confused, and let him go on. "Lewis, the man who walked in earlier, is different from anyone you'll ever meet. Very different. Always a loner, he lived with his dad up on Slater Hill, never bothered a soul. Townfolks thought he was a bit loose, keeping to himself after his dad passed away. He would come into town, just like you saw him, quiet, in his own world." Puffs of cigar smoke swirled lazily around John's head, and he rubbed the gray stubble on his weathered face. "Anyway, he was harmless, so nobody really bothered with him. About seven years ago, there used to be a large bridge leading into town, crossing Sparse River. It's still there, but broken. Won't be fixed, either. You came into town from the north, on the old dirt road." I nodded, saying "Yes, but I did see part of the river, where the rocks are, above town." John answered "The shallower section, downstream it gets deeper. And nasty. That's dangerous water there, and the bridge was old, needing repair, but no one realized how badly." "A bus full of school kids was going over, and the support arch cracked. Bus was right in the middle, and the road collapsed. By some miracle, it balanced on a narrow strip of concrete, and hovered there. Poor kids were screaming so loud, you could hear them in town." I listened in horror to his story, taking a sip from my glass. "Some of us hurried down, trying to think of some way to get those kids off. Problem was, couldn't reach the damn bus. Bridge was falling away, piece by piece, and any extra weight would have sent the kids to the water below, along with the bus. We didn't have a clue on how to save them." "There's a boat dock within sight of the bridge, and a bunch of us waited there, hoping to rescue whoever we could. It's a long drop to the water, with rocks all around. Looked pretty bad." "The bus was moving, closer to the edge, and closer to disaster. We watched hopelessly, and I remember seeing Lewis on the dock. The guy hardly spoke a word, but now he was yelling. We thought he had lost his mind, 'cause no one else was around. He seemed pretty upset, and all of a sudden he stopped. At the same time, the bus lost it's last grip and fell down to the river." The tale was chilling, and I gripped the side of my stool, anticipating the horrific ending. "It was magic." John's eyes grew wide, as he relived the events of the fateful day. "The bus dropped, screams echoed from the kids. It was like in slow motion as we waited, helpless, only yards from where it was headed. Then it stopped." The look on John's face was ghastly, and I stared in morbid fascination. He was breathing heavy, and sweat appeared on his brow. "It was incredible, but the bus floated there, in mid air. We were too shocked to move, but when the kids started yelling again, off we went. Our group reached the bus, and the kids jumped out the windows. Every last one was saved. It took only a few minutes, but everyone was out, and the bus still hovered there." "Six of us were in the one boat, including Richard and myself. The sun was bright, and we stared at the bus. Impossible, but there it hung. And then the sunlight reflected off the windows, angling straight at us." My heart was pounding now, as I was held there, captive to John's incredible story. "In the reflection was a shape. Invisible to the naked eye, but now revealed. "It was huge. A nightmare, some monstrous creature, holding up the bus! I have never been so frightened in all my life. We were the only ones who saw, but none of us will sleep well again. There wasn't anything there, I tell you. But the reflection told us everything. That bus was saved by some monster, and I suddenly looked back at the dock. Lewis waved a hand, and the bus crashed into the waters, barely missing us, like it was tossed out into the river. We were drenched, but alive." "The kids were all right, and Lewis was gone, back home I guess. The rest of us swore that what we saw was true, and half the town had seen the bus floating, and then being thrown. And that was seven years ago." I couldn't believe the tale. It was the most fantastic thing I had ever heard, and despite my lack of first hand knowledge, the reactions of the people toward Lewis was undeniable. "And no one has ever talked to Lewis about this?" I asked. "Would you?" John replied. "Knowing what you do now? You didn't see it. You would pray to forget it, like we have been trying. I'm not afraid of Lewis, but I never want to see that creature again, that I swear. We only saw the reflection. I don't want to think about seeing it in real life." John stood up, waving goodbye to Richard, who stared at me with a haunted look. I didn't stay long, but left town that same hour. I wanted nothing to do with that place or it's people, and made an oath never to return. That is why I will not mention the name, because as I walked around the corner, I turned and there stood Lewis. He did not look at me, but stared straight behind me, above my head, as if in contemplation of something only he could see. |
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