I met the devil at a bus stop

I met the devil at a bus stop. This wasn’t a metaphor because I’d just had a bad week and felt impatient with the universe. I literally, *actually* met the devil at a bus stop. I stood at the bus stop, waited for the bus, and fidgeted. I had twenty two minutes to wait, and it was already 2am. My friend was coming back from a friend’s place. We were both supposed to be out, at a club, having fun, drinking too much, going home not alone, then having *even more fun* at home. But I had a headache, and a brainwave of what we could do to our bedroom to make it even better. We had spent four years renovating our home, filling it with twinkle lights, plants, and the soft fuzz of sheepskins. The bedroom was nearly complete. It’d be five years next Friday. I decided to go home early, so I could look at the bedroom, figure out what we could do next, and go to bed not alone. Besides. It was my turn to go home. The last time he was the one with the headache. I was the one who stayed out and went home with a man. He didn’t know that. When he came home, and saw me asleep, he woke me up and told me I was his favourite person, his soulmate, the missing half of his heart. A couple months later, I told him what I’d done, and he was heartbroken. Eventually, I was heartbroken too. I told myself that we had only been *friends*, that nothing had happened, but as I said those words out loud, I knew they were a lie. He moved out, and this time it was his turn to say he was sorry. He said he didn’t understand, and he didn’t know how to fix us. I didn’t know either, but I couldn’t say that. The truth was too hard to say. I had left him, and now it was too late to fix things. I knew that he didn’t understand, not really, because he had grown up in a Christian household. He had grown up knowing that anything outside of man + woman was sinful. But he’d also grown up with the idea that there was a devil, an evil being that took people to hell when they did things wrong. So I made myself small, and told him to go home, and I waited for him to leave. When he walked out the door, I curled up in a ball and cried. I knew that I not been a good person, but I also knew, deep in my heart, that I was not evil. I really thought that. I wasn’t evil! I had just been frustrated, and lonely, and stupid. I was stupid, but not evil. I knew how to be good, I had been good. I hadn’t done anything wrong, not really. I hadn’t lied, I hadn’t lied when I said we’d only been friends. I’d told myself that for weeks, for months. I had promised myself that I was a good person, and I had believed it, for a little while. But then I’d caught myself grinning at a man at a bus stop. We’d slept together, and I knew that the lie wouldn’t keep for much longer. I needed a change, in a big way. So I stood at the bus stop, waited for the bus, and fidgeted. I could go home. I could pack my bag, and go to university, and get away from this place. I could leave all the memories behind, and start again. I could try and make this right, try and be not evil, and go back to being a virgin, because if I tried hard enough, that could be true. It was 2am. It was cold outside. I changed my mind again, and decided to go to my friend’s. She had a couch I could sleep on, and she would be able to talk me through this. If I could only figure out what I wanted to do. If only I could figure out how to not be evil. If only I could figure out how to be good again. I walked down the street, my feet crunching on the small rocks and shells they cemented in to the footpath. I was the only one out here, and it was far too late, but I didn’t feel alone. I felt like someone was watching me, and I tried to be more quiet, to see if that would help. I walked for about a minute, and then I saw someone standing at a bus stop. He was leaning against the pole with one shoulder, looking at his feet. I crunched my way up the path, and tried to be more quiet, but I could tell he’d heard me. I slowed down as I passed him, and he looked up. He was tall. He had bright red hair, and his eyes gleamed in the dark. Every street light near us seemed to have broken, but I could still see that his eyes sparkled red. I slowed down as I passed him, and he looked up. “Hey,” he said, and he smiled, and I felt a rush of fear. “Thank God someone else is out here,” he said, his smile growing wider. He was nice. Every time he spoke, I felt better. I grinned at him, and he grinned at me. He was really tall. He was half a foot taller than me, and people are not usually taller than me. I liked it. I liked that he was tall and bright red, and I liked his easy smile. I liked his voice. “Yeah, I just didn’t feel like going home,” I said. “I’m heading to my friend’s.” He nodded, and his smile twisted downward. “I’m heading home,” he said. “My wife will roast me if I don’t get home soon.” I smiled. I felt jealous, and I didn’t know why. He was already married. He was probably as old as my dad. He was not for me. “I’m sure she’s not that bad,” I said, and I couldn’t look at him anymore. I looked at his feet. “No, she’s nice,” he said. “But we’re very different people. You could say that I’m lukewarm, and she’s very hot.” I looked up at him. “Yeah, that sounds tough.” He smiled again. “Yeah. But you know how it is. Sometimes people are just made for each other.” I felt jealous again. I didn’t know why, but I did. I forced myself to smile at him again, and I asked him his name. He told me that his name was Luke, and I told him that my name was Meg. Luke was a nice man. I liked him, and I felt bad for being jealous. I didn’t know why I’d reacted that way, but I felt better every time he smiled at me. “Yeah, my boyfriend is very cold,” I said. “I’m very hot. I’m burning up.” Luke chuckled. “Sounds like you two will go far,” he said. I pulled out a cigarette, and lit it. I didn’t smoke, but I had a pack of cigarettes in my bag. Luke looked at it, and he frowned. “You’re not a smoker,” he said. “Don’t waste your life.” I dropped the cigarette to the ground, and stamped on it. “Sorry,” I said. “I don’t know why I did that.” Luke put a hand on my shoulder. It sent a shiver down my back, and I shook it off. “You’re stressed,” he said. “It’s okay. I would never tell you what to do. But I want to give you some advice.” I shook my head. “I don’t need advice.” Luke leaned down and whispered in my ear. “You are not evil,” he whispered. “You have given yourself a bad name, because of not understanding yourself. You are not evil, Meg.” He stood up again, and I felt a cold rush run down my back. “How did you know my name?” I asked. Luke just grinned. I felt cold all over, and I tried to run, but I couldn’t move. Luke reached out and took my hand. “You are not evil,” he said. “But I am. I have been watching you, Meg. You don’t know the devil, but I think you should.” Suddenly, I felt scared, but it was too late. I was frozen to the spot. I couldn’t move, but I could see everything. I could see everything when Luke pulled out a matchbox and opened it. I was frozen to the spot as he pulled out a match, and lit it. And I saw everything in the light of the match. I saw that Luke was the devil. I saw that he wasn’t really tall, but he *appeared* tall. I saw that his red hair was a trick, something he did to make himself look good. And I saw his eyes, his *eyes*, and I knew I should have run. His eyes were black. They were black as coal, and they made me cold. I felt cold down to my bones, and Luke just *grinned.* “You’re not evil, Meg,” he said. “The only evil is ignorance, and you have been ignorant for far too long.” And then he blew out the match. I shook myself awake, and found that I was standing at a bus stop. I was alone, and the street lights were working again. I must have been half-asleep, because I could see everything far too clearly. I could hear the crickets, and see the rocks in the path, and count the trees across the road. I looked at my phone, and blinked. It

I met the devil at a bus stop

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