Commuting. Always a problem (Get Inspired, week 6)

Ever had to queue for a bus while the Wild Hunt rides through? Not a metaphor.

They say that if you can’t see the Hunt, the Hunt will ignore you, but there’s only so much interest I can pretend in Facebook at the best of times. Even when I really need an excuse not to get chatted at by the guy ahead of me who inflicts his conversation on everyone unfortunate enough to get within range. Even when not seeing the things I’m not supposed to be able to see has saved me thousands in medical bills.

While that guy really does annoy me, I’m not sure he deserved the sword stroke that lopped the bald top of his head off like the top off an egg, leaving a gray fringe of hair around exposed gray matter.

The moment of frozen shock saved me, because I blinked, and the man ahead of me was perfectly whole again, the undoubtedly girly scream still trapped in my throat. Unfortunately, blinking hadn’t made the hunter who had coalesced out of the half-seen, half-felt stream of shapes whirling around and through the bus exchange and the buses any less solid. If anything, he and the Hunt were becoming more real by the second, while the hunched shapes of my fellow commuters drained of colour around me.

The flat of the sword was very real under my chin, reeking and sticky with blood, forcing my head up to meet the narrow stare of the rider. It certainly felt solid. Unlike the eyes of the hunter looming over me, which were empty holes in his head.

“As you wish, so mote it be, my lord, Lucas Main, otherwise Lugh ap Gywn,” he said. “The most determined of us can only deny our true selves for so long.”

Like almost everyone with a full time day job, I commute. Like most people commuting on public transit, I’ve occasionally entertained less-than-charitable thoughts about idiots who will not STFU, or who really think that their testicles are so impressive they require them to spread their knees across three seats. This one showed up in my head when I was standing amid my fellow zombies commuters, watching the crescent moon over the trees, and thinking about Celtic myths, because by and large those are preferable to thinking about Monday in the office.

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