Oakdale Ink
March 2026: Fate
"And fate? No one alive has ever escaped it, neither brave man nor coward, I tell you— it’s born with us the day that we are born." — Homer, The Iliad
“Cecily?”
The man’s voice echoed the bitter name. The wind of the bus’s arrival set forth a chain reaction as a dark hand grabbed the man's mind and threw it far into the fog filled frost of a paint splattered jacket and curly hair.
Four winters ago
The man sat wearing a felt cap and a thick brown chore coat at the right end of the tiny bus bench. His eyes glazed over the worn pages of his book as he traced his hands over the words.
Click clack. Clumsy stepping, the noise of heels. Each step she took her feet scratched against the frost painted across the pavement. Cecily fumbled her way onto the bench, her cold breath created a fog around her, disappearing as quickly as it came. She crossed her legs, it was far too cold for what she was wearing but she had to wear something nice.
The man sat slumped in his seat but quickly straightened at the sight of her, his eyes glowed, a spark of recognition.
“Cecily” He gaped at her familiar face. Though it pained him to realize, he knew that look; “Where are you heading?”
“Where are we all heading?” Cecily stared into the ground.
He furrowed his brows at her, “What the hell are you wearing? It's like 20 degrees out here.” He sat closer to her. “Where are you even going at this hour?”
“Where are we all going?” she said again quietly. “You and I, we all end up the same. It’s fate.” she added. The man knew Cecily when she got like this, it’s why he left.
I can’t be with you anymore, Ceece. You don’t feel anything. It’s like I’m constantly dragging you out of this hole. It’s draining, I just, I can’t anymore.
The man rose slightly, taking off his paint splattered jacket and handed it to her.
“Take it. I’m surprised you’re not shivering.”
The man looked down at the white tipped grass as his knee bounced, looking at his surroundings rather than facing Cecily. She, on the other hand, stayed as still as stone, staring at her feet.
She finally blinked “Can I ask you something?” She turned to face him for the first time since they last met. Their last meeting...
I can’t anymore, Cecily. I’m leaving.
“Do I look tired? Do you have a mirror?”
“You look fine, why don’t you worry about the cold rather than your makeup?”
She swayed in her seat and frowned “Cause I am meant to be seen. People don’t really care about anything else.”
“Now what’s that supposed to mean?” The man tried to remember what she meant.
And all you do, Cecily. Is care about your looks. Who needs to take an hour to go to a grocery store? I wish I understood you. I really wish.
“Well” she drooped her head to her side, her mouth shut.
A beat of silence “How is it going, then.”
“It’s going really great” She looked down at her lap and fiddled with her rings
“I got my own flat now. I got a lot of money, you know” She looked away from him.
“Well that’s news to me” he turned toward her, “Where are you heading, don’t be messing with me now Ceece”
Softly she spoke; “I am going to a beautiful place. Somewhere where I can get away and rest. Forever!” She dragged her hands into gestures, emphasizing beautiful and forever.
“Don’t-” he sharply inhaled, “Don’t be saying stuff. I-I don’t like this Ceece.” He nodded his head at the coat “Put the jacket on.”
The jacket stayed limp on her lap.
Quiet loomed over them, he looked at the streetlights while she stared at the black sky. The bus that loomed under their conversation arrived in the dark of the night, stopping their silence. She lifted as gracefully as she could and dropped the jacket in his lap. Click clack. With a goodbye she boarded onto the train.
He called her name but she could not hear him.
Maybe -he told himself on dark foggy nights- if I had understood her, I could have stopped her.
The vision of her curly crimson hair and hollow eyes follows him forever. The dark hand always looming, ready to pounce whenever.
“Changing Tides”
Waves push and pull you
The tide changes, life does too
Yet, fate guides us through