A man sat on the bus, riding home, reading a book. A demon sits on the bus across the aisle, licking its lips and eyeing his, presumably, tasty morsel…morsels. Legs. Arms, earlobes, all of him. The man looked up.
“I suppose your here to pay something back?” the man quipps.
The demon, Armaz, left his glancing to the past. Walking down the steps of the bus, Armaz looked up into the night sky. It starts snowing. The city glow lent a distinct hellish glaze to the city.
It begins to change.
Many things pop into and out of existence around Armaz. A man walks into the fence and evaporates. A skiff of snow lurches into a bar. A yoga instructor taught class and then sidled up to the skiff of snow.
A clock hung on the side of a building, next to another building that had a mural of a whale with other underwater sea animals, fish, and plant life painted on to it. Greens and blues, with streaks of yellow.
The man on the bus however, reads a single line from his book. It is, in fact, the only thing typed in the book.
“Courage does not come in likely places.”