A dull pencil is greater than the sharpest memory. - an English proverb
It was a dark and stormy evening.
Well, not exactly stormy, but by the time I woke up, it was drizzling.
"It is dark though," I thought. "But it has to be only five o'clock." Squinting at my watch, I felt the bus slow. It couldn't be my stop already, could it? It felt like I had only gotten on the bus a minute ago. Hoping I was correct, I walked down the aisle of the bus assuming that I was at the correct stop. I hadn’t known it at the time- but I was dead wrong.
As I stepped off the bus, the bus driver gave me a strange look, but I didn't really think too much of it at the time. There was that magnificent mountain range in the distance to worry about. In its shadow and in front of me was a shadowy forest, going on forever and ever.
There were no mountains or forests by home...
In an effort to calm myself down, I told myself that the bus driver knew what he was doing- there had to be some sort of logical explanation.
Turning around, I decided to ask the driver why we were not at our intended stop. “Sir, are we…” but then I choked on my words. There was no bus driver. There was not even a bus.