Write

Harry. (The infamous and ill fated Bus #10)

The screaming coming from the dark bus was off the charts

Images and words by Myron Ropp

There he nervously sat by the window. Watching. He knew.

©Myron Ropp

©Myron Ropp

The infamous and ill-fated Bus #10. A beautiful day for a field trip. Perfect. Mrs. Norman’s fourth grade class was having the best time. The best. The Museum of Science and Industry. Real hands on stuff. Picnic in the park. Again … perfect. Then on the trip back home, the bus broke down.

©Myron Ropp

©Myron Ropp

They were supposed to arrive back at the school for pick up … but instead, on the side of the highway, the soft glow of the day faded, replaced by approaching nightfall. That is when it all happened. Sitting midway on the bus was Hank ‘Harry’ Richey. Little Harry was a good kid. Well mannered. Polite. Smart. Oh? And he suffered from lycanthropy. Yep. Little Harry was a werewolf. Unawares. No one knew. Not even the facility nor Mrs. Norman. There he nervously sat by the window. Watching. He knew. He could feel it. As if on cue, Mr. Hebert called out ‘I got it fixed’. Then the chaos began. Harry caught sight of the Louisiana Moon … and started ‘turning’. The screaming coming from the dark bus was off the charts. Crashing. Thumping. Snarling. Hollering. The sound of windows breaking. The first sight of little Hairy Harry … Mrs. Norman passed out. Kids running to the back of the bus and out the back emergency exit

©Myron Ropp

©Myron Ropp

Pretty Scarlett Hollier threw up. As did those near here … just by observing her. You know how that goes. Chain reaction. Mr. Badass himself … class bully … Buddy Ison peed his pants; then dropped to the floorboard of the bus. Face in his hands and crying like a baby. Buddy’s reputation was forever destroyed. Mr. Hebert grabbed the broom on his way back into the bus. Swinging it like Yankee slugger Mickey Mantle, whoppin’ Harry a couple of good swings. That only pissed him off. The thing is. Not a single kid nor adult sustained any injury. Somehow, good ole Harry had enough ‘good’ that he did not go after anyone. He ran past Mr. Hebert and dove straight through the windshield of the bus and onto the hood of #10. Then into the night.

Wish I could tell you what happened to Harry. No one knows. Truth is … they were never able to find him or his folks. No one listed as the Richey family anywhere in the parish. Seems Harry was by himself, but still knew he should attend school. Perhaps he just wanted to be near the other children. Have friends. Be a part. Old #10 was never put back into the yellow fleet. Course the stories these kids told their parents were shrugged off as fabrication and active imaginations.

©Myron Ropp

©Myron Ropp

But on some nights, deep in the dark bayous … you can hear that lonesome howl. Hank ‘Harry’ Richey? Maybe so.

4 Responses to “Harry. (The infamous and ill fated Bus #10)”

  1. Mary Miguez says:

    Fantastically entertaining dear friend! As always!!!❤️

    • Myron says:

      Thank you my Miguez. What a great support you have been to me. Wish I could express how dear that has been. (Smile)

  2. Sis says:

    I was so captured at the very beginning … truly great story-telling … loved it!

  3. Myron says:

    Thanks ever so much, Sis. I truly appreciate you taking the time to read this … and for expressing your enjoyment of it.

Add your comment