It's a Story About a Guy Who... by Smith Dean Wesley

Author:Smith, Dean Wesley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: writing, horror, humor, short story, science fiction, twilight zone, wmg publishing, dean wesley smith
Publisher: WMG Publishing

* * *

I looked at what I had written and had no idea how I would include it in the assignment. And it still wouldn’t help. Once again it didn’t do what Mrs. Wilson wanted.

She had said that if we couldn’t get into a person’s head by making it up, we might need to talk to them.

I stared at the guy in the brown suit staring silently ahead at the windows. Why had I picked him, anyway? Of all the people in the train station to pick, he looked like the last guy who might want to talk to me.

“You want the grade?” I asked myself. “And a good law school or you want to be stuck in northern Idaho for three years?”

I took a deep breath and stood.

“Good law school.”

I headed over to the bench with the guy in the brown suit staring ahead at the windows. To one side a couple of kids played with a red rubber ball, kicking it back and forth, laughing.

I could do this. Any kind of response from the guy with the bow tie would help me and I could make up the rest.

I stopped a step from him and cleared my throat.

He looked up at me, the dark, brown eyes boring through me like I was tissue.

He said nothing.

“I’m very sorry to bother you,” I said.

He just stared at me and I could feel my heart beating like the first time I had kissed Barb. Or the first time I had tried to learn how to ski.

Fear. Just plain old fear, like talking to a guy was going to kill me or something.

Stupid.

There was nothing to be afraid of. The guy could be rude, ignore me, and it would make no difference to me.

“My name is Danny Evans,” I said to him and thankfully my voice didn’t crack. “I’m a student at Boise State and I have an assignment from one of my teachers to talk to a perfect stranger to help me learn how to write a story.”

He kept staring at me.

Then he blinked and a slight smile cracked the corners of his mouth like concrete being hammered into dust.

Then he nodded and indicated I should sit on the bench beside him.

“Thanks,” I said. “I won’t take up much of your time. This is only for a character sketch.”

“It is no issue,” the man said, his voice high as I would have expected of a man wearing a bowtie to ride a train. “I seem to have more time than I need.”

I nodded, not really understanding that statement at all. But I could use it in the story.

I flipped to a clean page in my notebook. “Would you mind telling me anything you would feel comfortable telling me about yourself?”

He nodded. “I suppose I could do that.”

“Good,” I said. “Are you from here in Boise?”

He nodded. “Born and raised. Until today. Today I am moving on.”

Then he seemed to pause and catch himself. “Please pardon my bad manners. I am preoccupied.”

He stuck out his hand.

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