| General Fiction posted July 9, 2015 | Chapters: |
...85 102 -1003- 10034... 
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short horror story
A chapter in the book Tiny Tales of Terror
Bus Ride
by LIJ Red
The giant, copper skinned busdriver led the way. He swaggered down that sunbeaten southern freeway, laughing and joking with the motley crowd of students. They cursed and grab-assed, and made warm screwdrivers out ot their stash of Tropicana and Wolfschmidt. The broken down tour bus was out of sight behind them. The barren scrub of the wide median strip and rolling hills were empty but for the waves of dancing heat.
Nanci fell behind, like the skinny little GDI. Her face was too wide, her legs too thick, her good sound teeth less than gleaming white. No matter how she reined in her country tongue, the Greek crowd knew. New money. Boondocky. She was sweating, and tired of trying to fit in. So she dropped back to the rear, with the GDI.
"Well, Grit, tell your Jesus to move those clouds over this way a little," she said.
"They shade the just and the unjust. They look like Bode's Goddoom, marching across the skyline on some mission," he said, looking at the clouds passing them by to the north.
"I thought you had a dialog going with Him."
"When His love stoked the fires of Hell, and even the baby Amalekites had to die, I fell a-pouting at Him."
"Ialdabaoth, the demiurge. Who does he have to answer to, that made him butcher his own son cause he botched our creation?"
"If he's omnipotent, why not roar, 'Shape up, Beelzebub.' Lucifer would have to hit his knees howling, 'Yassuh, boss, yassuh.'"
"I dunno. My mom says he is working by some plan we'll never get." Nanci sighed. "She still goes to church. It still bothers me when we talk like this. She hammered it into me deeper than potty training. Maybe I'll shake it off someday."
"But the old Holy Ghost still haunts little Nanci." the GDI laughed a warm, musical laugh and slapped her shoulder.
"Hey, driver," he yelled.
The dark face, standing a head above even the basketball players, turned. The jet black brows lifted.
"See ya. We're going back to the bus," the GDI grinned.
The driver shot him a bird, turned and walked on.
Nanci knew there was nothing but hot empty road, far past the stalled bus, but she walked with the GDI. On the brow of a low hill, she glanced back at the group they had left..
The driver beckoned to the things that were short, gnarled, bronze-dark. They were frightfully quick as they arose from hiding in the weeds of the median strip. They bore fearful glittering weapons. The screaming began, thin, reedy, far away as they swarmed over the crowd of students. The southern sky darkened as with smoke.
The GDI pushed her. "Run. We win!"
Nanci lost him somehow, as she ran until she collapsed on the shoulder of the highway, above the ravine with the shattered bus and scattered bodies. In the distance she heard the sirens.
The giant, copper skinned busdriver led the way. He swaggered down that sunbeaten southern freeway, laughing and joking with the motley crowd of students. They cursed and grab-assed, and made warm screwdrivers out ot their stash of Tropicana and Wolfschmidt. The broken down tour bus was out of sight behind them. The barren scrub of the wide median strip and rolling hills were empty but for the waves of dancing heat.
Nanci fell behind, like the skinny little GDI. Her face was too wide, her legs too thick, her good sound teeth less than gleaming white. No matter how she reined in her country tongue, the Greek crowd knew. New money. Boondocky. She was sweating, and tired of trying to fit in. So she dropped back to the rear, with the GDI.
"Well, Grit, tell your Jesus to move those clouds over this way a little," she said.
"They shade the just and the unjust. They look like Bode's Goddoom, marching across the skyline on some mission," he said, looking at the clouds passing them by to the north.
"I thought you had a dialog going with Him."
"When His love stoked the fires of Hell, and even the baby Amalekites had to die, I fell a-pouting at Him."
"Ialdabaoth, the demiurge. Who does he have to answer to, that made him butcher his own son cause he botched our creation?"
"If he's omnipotent, why not roar, 'Shape up, Beelzebub.' Lucifer would have to hit his knees howling, 'Yassuh, boss, yassuh.'"
"I dunno. My mom says he is working by some plan we'll never get." Nanci sighed. "She still goes to church. It still bothers me when we talk like this. She hammered it into me deeper than potty training. Maybe I'll shake it off someday."
"But the old Holy Ghost still haunts little Nanci." the GDI laughed a warm, musical laugh and slapped her shoulder.
"Hey, driver," he yelled.
The dark face, standing a head above even the basketball players, turned. The jet black brows lifted.
"See ya. We're going back to the bus," the GDI grinned.
The driver shot him a bird, turned and walked on.
Nanci knew there was nothing but hot empty road, far past the stalled bus, but she walked with the GDI. On the brow of a low hill, she glanced back at the group they had left..
The driver beckoned to the things that were short, gnarled, bronze-dark. They were frightfully quick as they arose from hiding in the weeds of the median strip. They bore fearful glittering weapons. The screaming began, thin, reedy, far away as they swarmed over the crowd of students. The southern sky darkened as with smoke.
The GDI pushed her. "Run. We win!"
Nanci lost him somehow, as she ran until she collapsed on the shoulder of the highway, above the ravine with the shattered bus and scattered bodies. In the distance she heard the sirens.
Nanci fell behind, like the skinny little GDI. Her face was too wide, her legs too thick, her good sound teeth less than gleaming white. No matter how she reined in her country tongue, the Greek crowd knew. New money. Boondocky. She was sweating, and tired of trying to fit in. So she dropped back to the rear, with the GDI.
"Well, Grit, tell your Jesus to move those clouds over this way a little," she said.
"They shade the just and the unjust. They look like Bode's Goddoom, marching across the skyline on some mission," he said, looking at the clouds passing them by to the north.
"I thought you had a dialog going with Him."
"When His love stoked the fires of Hell, and even the baby Amalekites had to die, I fell a-pouting at Him."
"Ialdabaoth, the demiurge. Who does he have to answer to, that made him butcher his own son cause he botched our creation?"
"If he's omnipotent, why not roar, 'Shape up, Beelzebub.' Lucifer would have to hit his knees howling, 'Yassuh, boss, yassuh.'"
"I dunno. My mom says he is working by some plan we'll never get." Nanci sighed. "She still goes to church. It still bothers me when we talk like this. She hammered it into me deeper than potty training. Maybe I'll shake it off someday."
"But the old Holy Ghost still haunts little Nanci." the GDI laughed a warm, musical laugh and slapped her shoulder.
"Hey, driver," he yelled.
The dark face, standing a head above even the basketball players, turned. The jet black brows lifted.
"See ya. We're going back to the bus," the GDI grinned.
The driver shot him a bird, turned and walked on.
Nanci knew there was nothing but hot empty road, far past the stalled bus, but she walked with the GDI. On the brow of a low hill, she glanced back at the group they had left..
The driver beckoned to the things that were short, gnarled, bronze-dark. They were frightfully quick as they arose from hiding in the weeds of the median strip. They bore fearful glittering weapons. The screaming began, thin, reedy, far away as they swarmed over the crowd of students. The southern sky darkened as with smoke.
The GDI pushed her. "Run. We win!"
Nanci lost him somehow, as she ran until she collapsed on the shoulder of the highway, above the ravine with the shattered bus and scattered bodies. In the distance she heard the sirens.
GDI-- non frat student
Greek-- of the frats
Ialdabaoth the demiurge- Gnostic flawed creator of this universe
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. Greek-- of the frats
Ialdabaoth the demiurge- Gnostic flawed creator of this universe
Multi-Author Book
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