Alarmingly Strange Stories
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"I'll show you," said Dan, evenly. He had overheard them, even though their voices had dropped to whispers and they huddled away from him. His intensity made them nervous and uneasy. Bianca wanted to laugh or joke it off, but was stopped by his blue-eyed gaze. She nodded. "Come to the ruins with me. You'll see," he said, and wandered off. After school they followed them down there. Bianca had never believed in the supernatural. She was a realist, an independent thinker, unimpressed by hazy thinking and dreams. "The ruin man will lead us out of poverty," Dan had said as they walked down to Cannery Row, all the signs of wealth surrounding them. They were a scruffy group of intruders into a world of privilege and luxury, slinking almost guiltily as fast as they could toward the ruins. "Our god will lead us out of oppression," Dan said. Bianca was suspicious of anything that promised to lead her anywhere, especially gods. Dan's cultish mumbling frightened her. At that time, only the sight of the ruin man himself would be enough to shock her into believing. Three weeks later, Bianca was as devoted a disciple as Dan. They all were. * . . . . . * . . . . . * The ruin man lay in a nest of the softest cotton, cradled gently against the sides of the cardboard box, face radiantly warm and alive. His eyes were closed, and he wore a smile of perfect contentment that was the most gentle, beautiful thing Bianca had ever seen. Pink, perfectly smooth, his face showed no signs of a beard and his hair was very short and soft to the touch, like the fur of a baby mouse. His age was difficult to tell, but soft wrinkles creased along the corners of his eyes.

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