Night Rides
1/1
The wind blew against the trees. It was an ominous sound that echoed the deeds of what was to come that night.
A lone bus traveling in the mist to a destination that no one would return from. Alexander clutched the only possession he had to his chest: a notebook full of rambles that often preoccupy the demented. From underneath the strings of his hair, he witnessed a woman board the ill-fated bus. Dressed in all white, she seemed ethereal and enigmatic.
After sitting herself behind the driver, she smiled at Alexander. It was not the smile that the elderly offer small children, nor the grin given to friends. It was a look of fondness from one stranger to another. It said a many of things, but could be summed up with an innocent "hello."
In all of Alexander's hysterics and delirious thoughts, he knew one truth: this bus would not end well for any involved. The Driver and his two passengers were in store for their last night. Alexander was silent for a few moments before he started murmuring to himself in his usual manner. The Woman in White appeared to not notice or she was too polite to comment or stare.
The weather outside was dreadful and the wind shook the bus every so often. Before the Woman could raise her hand to press the button to halt the bus, multiple things happened at once: The Driver looked to his left and saw the incoming semi truck; Alexander flung his notebook in the aisle and fell to the ground on top of it while clutching his hair; a scream echoed through the Bus that was not uttered by any on board.
As the Woman pressed the button, all were flung against the right side of the bus. Tumbling along the desert wheel-over-roof, Alexander reached for Her hand and held tight. He knew they were to roll over the hill; this was their moment of moribund.
And no one wants to die alone.
A lone bus traveling in the mist to a destination that no one would return from. Alexander clutched the only possession he had to his chest: a notebook full of rambles that often preoccupy the demented. From underneath the strings of his hair, he witnessed a woman board the ill-fated bus. Dressed in all white, she seemed ethereal and enigmatic.
After sitting herself behind the driver, she smiled at Alexander. It was not the smile that the elderly offer small children, nor the grin given to friends. It was a look of fondness from one stranger to another. It said a many of things, but could be summed up with an innocent "hello."
In all of Alexander's hysterics and delirious thoughts, he knew one truth: this bus would not end well for any involved. The Driver and his two passengers were in store for their last night. Alexander was silent for a few moments before he started murmuring to himself in his usual manner. The Woman in White appeared to not notice or she was too polite to comment or stare.
The weather outside was dreadful and the wind shook the bus every so often. Before the Woman could raise her hand to press the button to halt the bus, multiple things happened at once: The Driver looked to his left and saw the incoming semi truck; Alexander flung his notebook in the aisle and fell to the ground on top of it while clutching his hair; a scream echoed through the Bus that was not uttered by any on board.
As the Woman pressed the button, all were flung against the right side of the bus. Tumbling along the desert wheel-over-roof, Alexander reached for Her hand and held tight. He knew they were to roll over the hill; this was their moment of moribund.
And no one wants to die alone.
♠ ♠ ♠
Feedback? Even a simple "this blows" would suffice.