Jonty's Last RideA Story by LesThe following was based on a suggestion in a writing course that I'm currently doing. It is based on a real encounter, with just slight embellishment, that I'd forgotten about until now.9AM. A
perfect summer’s day in an English coastal town. The stop for the bus to my
son’s uni’ was central and handily close. I was looking forward to seeing him. The bus was
already there and I was the last passenger on. Just one seat left. The person I
sat next to had to move up a little. I mumbled an apology in the way that we
Brits do when we have nothing to apologise for. It was hard
to determine their gender but, from the stature, I guessed that she was female.
She sat hunched, the hood of her summer anorak up and covering her face. In her
lap, a large shopping bag that seemed to be moving slightly. The bus
waited a while before moving off. As I sat there, the woman’s shoulders seemed
to convulse a little. I turned and asked if she was ok. As I did, a black curly
head popped over the top of the shopping bag. “No, not
really” she replied but added nothing further. The dog was small and cute. I
leant across and scratched its ears. The response was minimal and there was
something so sad in that dog’s small dark eyes. “His name is
Jonty” she said suddenly in a voice that was small and cracked. And I found
myself looking into a face equally small and pinched. Her complexion was pinker
than looked healthy. By now the
bus was moving through the outskirts of town, the shops giving way to seafront
houses, once grand, now a little unloved looking. “He’s lovely I said”, trying
this time to rub Jonty’s cheek but still no response beyond laying his head
wearily on his owner’s lap. “I’ve had
him nine years, since he was a pup. He was a rescue dog from a local home for
strays.” The journey only lasted ten minutes but in that time I think I learned
Jonty’s every last detail from his favourite food and toys to the time that he
had a close encounter of the postman kind (the postman was forgiving and didn’t
sue.) “And now
he’s pretty ill. Cancer, and the vet can do nothing more. I’m taking him to
have him put to sleep.” Her voice trailed off as her shoulders shook again and
tears rolled down her cheek. Any words of comfort that I might have had just
wouldn’t come. “My stop” she said as she reached across to ring the bell. I could
only mumble “goodbye.” I watched
her move down the street. More of a head-down shuffle than a walk. As the bus moved away, I felt my throat
tighten and the prick of tears in my eyes. The sunshine
had somehow lost its lustre and I spent the rest of the day thinking of my short-time
travelling companion. I particularly imagined her return bus journey, but this
time …… alone. © 2018 LesReviews
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3 Reviews Added on March 25, 2018 Last Updated on March 25, 2018 AuthorLesSt Albans District, Hertfordshire, United KingdomAboutHave always enjoyed writing. Just looking to see if I have any creativity left in me to write some fiction. more..Writing
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