Blog of Nambot

Dear Blog,

I mean, Dear John,

I think you're the only person left who still reads my blog on account of me being an unreliable, fair-weather blogger. In real life I purposely failed to recount the following story in your presence, knowing that it would soon be at your electronic disposal, internet access and necessary hardware permitting. Why divulge a perfectly weird story on a regular day, when it could instead be unleashed during a moment of debilitating procrastination?

I admit it, John, I waited for your finals to begin. A crap tale for you in your time of woe in exchange for that disgusting gin & tonic. And dude, every word is true.

It was Halloween and I was riding my bike home from work, as I always do, underneath the Manhattan Bridge through a field of pot holes and a never-ending construction site. It was gray and cold, and the sun was setting. A vomitous green mist settled over the empty street. I could hear cars idling on the BQE and the wind whooshing past my freezing ears (unless I turned my head sideways) as I absorbed bumps in the road and negotiated scattered gravel ponds.

In addition to me, the only person or thing present underneath the bridge seemed to be a sweatshirt and sweatpants wearing middle-aged woman hauling a bloated wheelie suitcase. She shouted 'Sweetie! It's time! Come on out!' From a large pothole to my immediate right, a tiny, wide-eyed boy of about six years of age emerged. He was wearing a brown corduroy suit and an argyle vest, and his hair and skin were stark white. If not for his reflectivity he would have been translucent. For the sake of making the story easier to digest, I would like to say that the boy crawled out of the hole. I would like to say that upon closer inspection, the hole was very shallow, and that the boy was probably lying down in it. I should say he came from somewhere. Unfortunately, he didn't. Instead, he rose out of the deep dark hole without stepping, moving his arms, or even looking around. This caused me to gasp and rely on my reflexes to steady my bike as I rode past gawking. Like monster tentacles whipping out from beneath a childhood bed, this boy evoked paralyzing fear in me that some adults can't feel or remember. Surrounded by so many New Yorker's daily commute, the impossible boy showed how the backdrop of everyday life can bring the extraordinary into stark relief... even on Halloween, or perhaps especially on Halloween?

Expressionless and nonchalant, the tiny boy trudged up the hill as the woman in sweatpants wrestled with her suitcase.