For all there is, there is a reason even when such things of wonder may be far too difficult to fathom. Things happen, things exist, and that's just the way it is. To wonder is natural, it is as normal as can be. At times, it may best be let be, to accept that what is, simply just is. There are other times, other things that could be questioned, that should be questioned, though how do we tell one from the other. What things should we question? And what things should be simply ... let be.

It's not easy for Niall Osbourne. He is sixty-seven years of age, close to turning sixty-eight, and his body is not what it once was. Not an unusual story, life has taken from him, and he can only wish he was as maneuverable as even some of the other town locals who are in the region of similar age to himself.

Indeed, life has taken from Niall. His wife, unfortunately, resides in the local cemetery and she has been there these past three years. For a younger, stronger man, the cemetery may be a thirty-minute walk away but with it being mostly uphill, the journey can take upwards of an hour or so for Niall on a good day.

The town public transport system is a joke that no local finds funny. How Niall wishes he had easier access to his wife's final resting place. It has been six months since he was last with her, and it rained hard that day. There had been nowhere for Niall to go to escape the rain, well there was but his lack of speed meant he was just as well off staying where he was than trying to get to cover some distance away.

Yeah, six months. That is a long time, too long. Summer has come back around, and hell, has it returned with a bang. Hell is right. Temperatures are in the thirties ... Celsius. In some ways ... better than rain, in other ways ... heck of a lot worse. If he were to go be with his wife on this day, of his own accord, he'd die ... of heatstroke ... the distance is too far to be made on foot, and by trying ... the only way he'd actually get to the cemetery is if he were to become its newest resident.

He can at least make some sort of effort, right? He can at least step outside and head to the bottom of his garden. This would be a start ... so this is what he does. And by golly, if the heavens don't open up and give him something other than rain. Well, he just wouldn't believe it, if such madness hadn't come and paid him a visit, for as soon as he reaches his garden gate ... a single decker ten-seater bus pulls up, stops, and Niall watches in amazement when its passenger door opens up.

Half expecting to see a familiar face operating the bus, to be honest Niall does not know what to expect on receipt of such an occurrence but since it has, he would be surprised but not totally shocked if someone had got around to operating a community bus for the locals to aid with the community needs but no, there is no familiar face, no familiar person sitting in the driver's seat of that bus, in fact, there is no one sitting there at all.

Niall has watched enough horror movies in his lifetime, he has watched enough crime programming, and has read enough too, to know to simply not go investigating such a phenomenon, but truth be told, he cannot help himself. It is early in the day; indeed, the sun is out and about, the town itself is not known for high levels of crime, just the opposite in fact. Broad daylight, surely, he can get onto this bus and investigate without risk of his own body, mind, or soul.

He does get on this bus but no further than where a driver should be when he hears a voice speak: - Destination ...

What the heck is this? He looks down along the bus and he cannot see anyone, not a soul. The voice speaks again: - Destination please ...

He can't for the life of him, place just exactly where this voice is coming from. The driver's seat area possibly but he can't be sure. It sounds somewhat mechanical, artificial, female. If he didn't know better, he would think it was his wife speaking to him, not that his wife would have been anyway mechanical but perhaps it is a recording or something similar.

How can he respond to something like this? Almost in a daze, and certainly in a confused manner, he simply states ... the cemetery please ... The door closes behind him, so what else is there for him to do other than take a seat and see what happens. As soon as he does take a seat, the bus begins to move. Niall is still the only one aboard.

Is this a trick? Is the bus being run remotely? He remains seated, holding on tightly until a few minutes later that voice returns ... you have reached your destination. Indeed, he has. The bus not only has come to the cemetery, but it has also parked in a double long double wide space provided in the cemetery car park.

Praise be the lord ... for this indeed must be a miracle.

Niall spends a half hour at his wife's graveside. He cleans it up a little and tells her of what it is he has experienced. If she could talk back, she surely would tell him he was being silly, except he is not being silly. The bus is real. As real as anything he has ever known. And once he is done. It surely returns and takes him right back home again. He just re-boards and answers the destination query with the words ... home please ... and the bust takes him home as if it itself was or is a personal friend.

If he were to tell of his experience, what is it he could tell? For those who know him would think him mad, crazy even, with such nonsense. They'd want him to pull the other one, but he would be deathly serious, but maybe he doesn't need to tell anyone or everyone, not completely anyhow.

A community meeting is set for three evening's time after this event. Transport is a hot topic. Before Niall can even consider saying anything about his experience, Mary McNeil from number forty-nine tells of an empty bus that took her to the local supermarket two days prior. Betsey Adams can back this up. She had been working a checkout and having been on the receiving end of Mary's tale, watched her board a seemingly empty bus, and she watched on as it began a journey to bring her home.

Duncan Kelly, another upstanding local of many a year, had a similar tale to tell. It has been three years since his deteriorating sight cost him his own driving license, but he told of how and empty bus brought him to his local the other day, a place he can regale with song and story, in turn filling his own soul with pure joy, and to top it off, the bus was even there to ensure it saw him home after, safe and sound.

There would be disbelievers at this meeting though such a thing would be expected but those who believed, or hoped this were true, couldn't wait to acquire such a service. Each in turn would be just as amazed as those who came before and there would be a select few who could come to trust this service.

Those who needed it most were those who would avail it. If you could get by without then it rarely would come for you, but the bus that drove itself quickly became something of a local legend. And indeed it could hold more than one person at a time, up to twenty in fact should needs be.

Three years this bus served. Accepting each and every journey it needed to, perfectly arriving when and where needed, each and every time. And on that three-year anniversary, the bus picked up ten of its most trusting customers, for it had a special destination set up for them on this day. The destination? ... You would need to believe in such things in order to have that destination revealed to you ... so do you ... believe?

If you do believe, then perhaps one day, you too can avail of its service ...