Landmarks

He had always depended upon landmarks, places he could spot so he could find his way. There wasn’t anything really wrong with his sense of direction – he hadn’t been dropped on his head or played enough contact sports that his wiring for finding his way was messed up. He was just a visual guy. When there were family trips, he was the navigator and had that big – now ancient – Rand McNally map book on his lap. He would call out to his Dad, driving, “Turn here, Dad, now!”. His Dad had the quick retort always – “I see it, THANK YOU”. And so, it went. It was time now to walk to the train station. His day at the hospital was over, and there was no need to hurry home. He loved the 3 ½ miles on foot, largely because he didn’t have to drive with the melee of rush hour demons. It was time to walk.

Landmarks were just the best on this trip. From his building at 31st and Cottage Grove, he went west to the AME Church on King Drive, north along King past the mammoth McCormick Place and its well – placed curve west to Michigan. He felt the push coming now, as he then stepped briskly North on Michigan until the Art Institute of Chicago appeared. Left at the Lions and straight on until evening train! He knew instantly, as soon as he turned onto Jackson, that there would be a short hiatus before getting to the station. His smile was faint but unmistakable – and the cold twilight air was burnishing his cheeks. He knew he was geeking out now and someone will see him in mid – geek – but JEEZ, “The Dark Knight” was shot near here!

He stood on the LaSalle Street sidewalk and looked up so high, to scan the profile of the Board of Trade Building; up and up and up until he found the Ceres figure atop it. Goddess of agriculture, beckoning the farmers and the wheeler – dealers to come and trade. He took a few extra seconds to look Ceres over….and he liked what he saw. Sleek profile. An almost white skin tone. Eyes that saw through you, saw you. No one was going to put anything over on Ceres. She knew and she steered the eternal rhythms of the seasons. Before he left to complete his trek to the train, he felt the chill. It had come back, passed through him as a wafting smoke trail. For all but one of the last nine times he had taken this short side trip, the same chill was there. Smiling, he quickly turned west again on Jackson and made it to the train. It is important to get things together tonight, he thought, as the train doors popped open about an hour later. He did his best to miss the young woman exiting the car next to him. Oops, sorry! He croaked out as he slightly jostled her, blushing as he hurried to his car. Tomorrow was Halloween! Got to get everything ready! As he did every evening, he took everything from his pockets, soon as he was home, and placed every personal item in a large Santa – themed candy dish.

Halloween morning seemed no different than most other cold October mornings, back at the Office. He had gotten there before 8, so that he could put up the few decorations the boss would allow in the office. His bright orange jump suit with the “Cook County Jail” letters big and bold could be seen from street level along 31st Street. I’d better not get close to the window, he thought with a chuckle escaping him. People will think I’ve done a breakout! The chill hit him then – HIT HIM HERE!? That same chill he felt when seeing HER? A panicked cry, then a startle and he looked about to find the – OMG!

She was here – CERES! Sleek with the piercing eyes. She had a porcelain mask over her face, but her eyes betrayed her. Gawlllll – yes, I was transfixed, but my body betrayed my fear! “Uh, Uh, hel – hello” She tossed her head a bit, the long blonde locks that a Goddess of the land might have, they danced over her shoulders. Her immaculate costume scarcely rustled, when she lifted her left hand to flash well – groomed fingers in a menacing gesture. Yes I did, I watched those fingers with trepidation – was she going to scratch me?? I watched her left, and didn’t see at all the pocket pistol that smoothly appeared in her RIGHT.

“You’re a very clumsy guy,” She said with a flat tone as she lifted the Staccato CS pistol. “Cl - clum - clumsy??” “Bumping into me on the train – I could have fallen under the train!!” The chill hit him again – just before BEFORE THE GUN WENT OFF! Her scream, the gun!!

It was an hour before I was able to sit up – patting my sides and touching my head, in an utter panic all over. Other than the soft corners of my extremities a little tender, from the impact of my fall – no blood! No entry wounds or exit wounds! I pressed my palms into my forehead, stroking them down until I removed them from my chin. Then a quick double take, quadruple take – where’d she go? Ceres?? Where’d she go? No evidence that she had been there – and no bullet holes, anywhere! I had to find out - quickly springing to my feet, I then spotted, on the full length mirror, a message written to me IN LIPSTICK. It read, “TRICK OR TREAT!....then a capsule description of what had happened over the last hour and a half. Ceres knew: I’m a visual guy.