(Wayfaring Stranger)

[talonkarrde]

He only meets them when they’re alone, usually on the side of the road.

Her ’94 Taurus broke down on the side of the road, on a Thursday night, and she spent ten minutes staring at the engine uselessly, wondering why she wasn’t signed up with triple-A.

That's when he showed up, his face completely hidden, in a head-to-foot dark brown cloak with rivulets of water running off it. When he said, "Hello," she instinctively went for her bottle of Mace before remembering that it was in the car. She took a step back, looking uncertainly at the figure before her and trying to figure out whether to run.

“It seems you are having some troubles with your transportation, no?” He stepped forward, making a placating gesture, and motioned to the car. “I can take a look at it if you want…”

She bit her lip and wondered if she should just wait for someone else. He waited a bit and then took her silence as assent and bent over the hood, checking the connections. “Go turn the machine on again,” he said, lightly resting his hands on the grill.

She offered a hesitant smile and got in the Taurus, turning the key, and it miraculously started right up, purring like she had never heard it before. She smiled when he shut the lid of the hood and gave him a thumbs-up, then waved at him to take the passenger seat. The least she could do, she figured, was to give him a ride.

He slowly shuffled around, fiddling with the door a bit before taking a seat, and smiled over at her without taking the cloak off. From this close, though, she realized there was something not quite right with his eyes – they glimmered, almost shone, even though there was no light to reflect.

“So…how’d you fix it?” she asked, trying to hide her renewed unease.

“I did not, actually. I do not know too much about these machines, I just…was here to help out.” He spoke quietly, gravelly, as he stared straight at her.

“Oh…I…well, thank you…for…do you need a ride?”

“No, thank you. I…have grown used to walking, all of these years, traveling the land to see how my people have been living.”

“Your…people?” She asked, incredulously, wondering if he had escaped from an asylum.

“I have been wandering for a long time; I have seen many things, learned much. The world is not as it was thousands of years ago…and I am not as I was, millennia ago.”

She felt the questions come bursting out of her, regardless of whether he was really what he claimed, for what if he really was? “Where have you been, what have you been doing, why is there so much anger, and hate, and sad-“

“I needed to understand, to learn, to see what it was that you did. Your world is not what it was. I needed to learn what the problems were.” He turned to look out the window as the rain stopped, his eyes twinkling. He opened the car door and stepped out, turning to regard her one last time.

“And I still have more journeying to do…though your way home is clear.”

Emergency medical workers found her the next morning, a smile on her face.

Comments

[lemony-purple.livejournal.com]

Sarah told me about how she didn't get this one. The first time I read it, I only read it once, which is unusual for me; I wouldn't have been able to say it was about god either (or at least not god specifically; I might have said an angel after reading it again), but that's probably because I didn't re-read. I think I was mainly too focused on the fact that you'd killed someone again to really think much about the rest. I know it's usually necessary for the point of the story, but maybe there shouldn't be so many stories whose points rely on the last line being death. This one particularly could probably have worked differently; a chance encounter without the dying would probably have been just as effective (if not more so, since it's a recurring theme and therefore less effective overall).

Sarah also mentioned that you'd wanted her to ask me to read this. I didn't say anything about the latest four, so I'm starting with this one and working back, since I realised I did have things I want to say. Since they're from weeks ago it probably won't matter, but I wanted to comment anyway.

[talon.livejournal.com]

So, the subtlety is supposed to exist within the 'your way home' idea. Originally, I didn't actually have her die; it was just a chance encounter. But if anything, that didn't reflect the sentiment of the omnipotent God that doesn't give us choices; she may damn well have wanted to live, but that wasn't His plan, if you will - that's the purpose of that line.

[lemony-purple.livejournal.com]

My first thought about not being given a choice is that it can work the opposite way too: it would've had to be a completely different story, but someone who wanted to die could have ended up alive and it might have worked in a similar fashion if done right. That story could end with a renewed sense of hope too, one that would extend past a smile in death. *shrug* Maybe it could work, maybe not, and obviously I don't have a perfect idea of what you were trying to convey with this; just a thought.