by H. Tsory
It was a fall sunday and I was on a freak ride, humid air running like silk over the arms, when I located a hobo trail leading up to the smoldering coals of a lawn chair bonfire. I poked around a bit before going on, and arrived at an abandoned train bridge with no signs of life. Waiting inside were ghastly green faces, families of them; I should take you there to see their grimaces and crazed stares. That’s when I started feeling uncomfortable and that’s why I was happy to come across another human soul. I encountered his puff of smoke first and sniffing the air I glanced left just in time to see a santa claus hobo staring at me from the bushes as my bike passed by.