Letters from Josh
10/31/22 #106
Howdy, folks! Happy Halloween! I hope you’re enjoying the quirky tale so far. Cue the soap opera music, because….
“Previously on Dr. Electro: Retired to the quiet life in the small town of Whittaker, Electro arrives back at his cottage to find a cryptic telegram. “Expect me at the midnight whistle. - Rutherford”.
The Return of Dr. Electro - #2: King of the Road
The wind, as it was wont to do in Whittaker, prowled out of the woods, gave a ghostly shake to the forgotten shirts on Mrs. Willet’s line next door, and rustled the telegram in Electro’s hand. He stood on his porch as the inky dusk closed in, blotting the words from view.
Opening the door to a sparse room inside, he flipped on the light for a second look.
“Some things never change, ol’ chap! Expect me by the midnight whistle. - Rutherford.”
Electro wished (again) he knew how to whistle. Now would be a good time. Instead, he looked up. Half-unpacked boxes seemed to mock his choice of strolling the day away. Annoyed at the sight, he averted his gaze. It fell on a calendar the previous tenants left. “Halloween! I forgot!”
The fog which bedevils sailors and those who venture into the unknown had clouded his thoughts ever since he had moved here. Lately, his shoes had to do most of the thinking. Now they turned, almost of their own accord. He cast an apologetic glance at the still-unfinished Odyssey next to the one comfortable chair in the dingy parlor. Homer’s adventures were in the past, and would have to wait. His, apparently, were on the midnight train.
Outside, the wind rattled the clapboard siding, an overzealous building inspector. Electro shrugged, clamped a hat over salt and pepper hair, and followed his shoes into the night.
A new man in town is a certain type of ghost. The shoes led him through empty streets, under the three new streetlights, and past the slumbering storefronts, unnoticed. He drifted down to the tracks again, feeling quite alone. A hulking locomotive belched steam, lit by the depot’s cozy lights in the distance. “That train could go as a dragon for Halloween, and get away with it” he mused. Just then, an exclamation in the dark:
“My good doctor!”
The shoes took brief flight in surprise. “Rutherford! Is it really you? Are you a hobo?”
Electro peered into the dark. A shadow strode out from behind a railcar, and shook his hand.
“Great Scott, I appear to be!” the hearty Brit chuckled. “King of the road!”
His sturdy voice, sandy beard, and tall frame inspired confidence. He could have been an aristocrat in his grandfather’s time, was a soldier in his youth, and now Hurrahed around the world in style. (Usually.) “Jolly well” was his usual answer to tea or high adventure.
Rutherford started in. “Couldn’t take the passenger from Chicago. Too risky. The boxcars are warm-ish on this chilly evening, and delightfully empty, my good fellow. But, Lady Wilkes is in a tizzy, and now I’m in a pickle. I’m here for your help. Might I impose on you for a cup of tea?”
(To be continued next week.)