| General Fiction posted February 23, 2024 |
  |
a horror story
The Bus Stop
by Bill Schott
The bus was running late again. This was the first stop after it crossed the river bridge.
Gail had been waiting patiently for the first ten minutes after ten o'clock, the usual time the bus arrives.
When twenty minutes had passed, she fished in her purse for her phone. The director of transportation should know about this
important failure.
Finally, from around the corner of the block, the bus appeared.
As the vehicle came to a stop and the door opened, Gail shouted as she stepped aboard.
"You are practically an hour late, sir!"
The driver seemed to ignore the irate woman and closed the door behind her.
"Why are you so late?" she demanded.
"You were the final passenger," he said.
The bus lurched forward sending Gail back into the bus as she kept herself upright.
The phone was found in her bag, as she plopped next to a woman, who hurriedly scooted to avoid having the new person in her lap.
"Hello? Is this the director of the transportation authority?" she yelled into the phone.
Suddenly, the bus screeched to a stop, and a passenger rolled by Gail on his way to the front. Once there, he stood and calmly asked to exit.
The driver levered open the door and the passenger walked out into traffic that was speeding by on the four-lane highway. Within a step, he was hit and carried off.
Gail shrieked, "Oh my God!"
Next, two more passengers raced by Gail and leaped out the front hatch. Their bodies were chewed up by the sawmill of city traffic.
The voice on the phone asked what was happening.
"I can't believe my eyes!" she shouted.
With that muttered, all other passengers stood and launched themselves out windows, the back door, and the forward exit.
Dropping her phone, Gail staggered to the front and faced the driver.
"What is going on?" she pleaded.
"The other passengers did not want to take the bridge," he said, pulling the gear shift down into first gear.
The bus moved forward, as the traffic seemed to disappear. Once the vehicle was at full speed, the driver rose and passed by Gail on his way out the front exit.
Gail stood alone facing out the front windshield of the mass transport vehicle. The bridge, which should be spanning the river, had been destroyed by an explosion. Debris was still falling, as the bombing was within the last half hour.
Gail wondered if the bus had been caught in the initial destruction.
It didn't matter now. The ghost bus plummeted into the unforgiving river.
Horror Writing Contest contest entry
The bus was running late again. This was the first stop after it crossed the river bridge.
Gail had been waiting patiently for the first ten minutes after ten o'clock, the usual time the bus arrives.
When twenty minutes had passed, she fished in her purse for her phone. The director of transportation should know about this
important failure.
Finally, from around the corner of the block, the bus appeared.
As the vehicle came to a stop and the door opened, Gail shouted as she stepped aboard.
"You are practically an hour late, sir!"
The driver seemed to ignore the irate woman and closed the door behind her.
"Why are you so late?" she demanded.
"You were the final passenger," he said.
The bus lurched forward sending Gail back into the bus as she kept herself upright.
The phone was found in her bag, as she plopped next to a woman, who hurriedly scooted to avoid having the new person in her lap.
"Hello? Is this the director of the transportation authority?" she yelled into the phone.
Suddenly, the bus screeched to a stop, and a passenger rolled by Gail on his way to the front. Once there, he stood and calmly asked to exit.
The driver levered open the door and the passenger walked out into traffic that was speeding by on the four-lane highway. Within a step, he was hit and carried off.
Gail shrieked, "Oh my God!"
Next, two more passengers raced by Gail and leaped out the front hatch. Their bodies were chewed up by the sawmill of city traffic.
The voice on the phone asked what was happening.
"I can't believe my eyes!" she shouted.
With that muttered, all other passengers stood and launched themselves out windows, the back door, and the forward exit.
Dropping her phone, Gail staggered to the front and faced the driver.
"What is going on?" she pleaded.
"The other passengers did not want to take the bridge," he said, pulling the gear shift down into first gear.
The bus moved forward, as the traffic seemed to disappear. Once the vehicle was at full speed, the driver rose and passed by Gail on his way out the front exit.
Gail stood alone facing out the front windshield of the mass transport vehicle. The bridge, which should be spanning the river, had been destroyed by an explosion. Debris was still falling, as the bombing was within the last half hour.
Gail wondered if the bus had been caught in the initial destruction.
It didn't matter now. The ghost bus plummeted into the unforgiving river.
Image from Google
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© Copyright 2024. Bill Schott All rights reserved.
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