losthellhound

Untitled
- Strong language, (yeah, that means swearing *g*)



A light dusting of snow lay over everything. It gave a clean, untouched look to the street and sidewalk. I took a deep breath and exhaled sharply, watching the cloud swirl and ride on the night’s breeze away from me. In one hand I held my attaché case, filled with paperwork from a busy day of pre Christmas orders. In the other was a cup of coffee still too hot to drink. I glanced at my watch and stepped closer to the empty road to look for the bus.
“Should be here already.” I mused.
The bus stop was empty but for myself. It wasn’t odd really, being close to midnight and a Wednesday as well. Anyone who could be, was already home and asleep, or drawing the night out in front of warm televisions.
“It’s always late.” A voice stated matter-of-factly. I spun around, sure that I was the only person waiting, and startled by the sudden company. She was standing not two paces behind me, pulling on a dark cigarette and glaring at me. She was dressed in a tattered leather jacket that was several sizes too large for her and a black toque that was drawn low over her forehead. Greasy black hair hung down and covered most of her face, but I could see dark makeup and dull cow like eyes looking at me. I realized that I was staring and after attempting to make several full sentences that only came out in murmurs and stutters I turned around and faced the road again.
She’s the reason I hate the bus. Damn skids. I thought to myself darkly.
“That’s not a very nice thing to say.” She said.
I turned quickly to see her crush the butt of the cigarette beneath a black boot but instead of questioning her comment I was focused instead on the black mark the ash had left in the snow.
“You getting on or what?” Another voice called.
The bus was parked in front of the stop; the girl had already boarded and was staring at me through the window. How had it arrived so quickly? I was just looking at the road. Getting the fare from my pocket I stepped on and paid.
“Get to your seat. Now I’m going to be late for my next stop. Asshole.” The bus driver snarled.
I was dumbfounded, never having received such a tirade from any bus driver. Not wanting to cause a scene I quickly found an empty seat and sat. The bus lurched forward and my coffee flew out of my hand and rolled under the seat to spill beneath.
Fuck! I cursed, setting my attaché case down beside me and looking under the seat. By the time I retrieved the empty cup the bus had pulled up at its next stop and several people departed. I crushed the empty Styrofoam cup and reached over to put the remains in my attaché case.
Gone.
I looked out the window and watched an old lady hurry across the street with my attaché cradled in her arm.
Damn old people, isn’t it enough I have to put up with them all day, but they steal from me as well? I thought.
The girl chuckled and I glared at her.
“What’s so funny bitch? You enjoying this?” I asked.
“Hey!” The bus driver called, pulling up to the next stop. “You got a problem?”
“Yeah I have a problem, first that old witch stole my case, now little miss death here thinks it’s funny!” I called back. If the girl was insulted or surprised she showed no reaction, still staring at me from behind her toque and hair.
“Well then get the hell off my bus then asshole!”
My stop wasn’t for another block or so but I didn’t care. Still holding the crumpled cup in my hand I stormed off the bus. Unfortunately the girl followed me. As the bus drove off she lit another cigarette and faced me.
“Bad day?” She asked, almost sweetly. I hesitated before remembering how much I hated her.
“Fuck off. It was a fine day till you came along.” I snapped back.
“I have that effect. But all things aren’t equal.” She responded, pulling hard on the cigarette.
“What’s that supposed to-“ I was just about to finish when I heard a bus pull up. I turned to see the door open and was surprised to see the same driver from before.
“You getting on?” He asked.
“But. I-“ I stuttered. I turned around but found the girl gone, and I realized I was at the stop across from my work. In one hand I was holding a cup full of steaming coffee, and my attaché case was firmly gripped in the other. Stepping on the bus I looked around but couldn’t see the girl anywhere. As I sat down the bus lurched forward and my coffee flew out of my hand and rolled under the seat.
Fuck! I cursed, setting my attaché case down beside me and looking under the seat. I jolted up and caught the old lady beside me reaching towards my attaché case.
“Don’t even think about it.” I said, pulling it closer to me.
She made a face and quickly got off at the next stop. I chuckled and finally retrieving the empty cup I leaned back. What happened? Was I dreaming before? If I was, then how did I know that I’d drop the coffee, or that the old lady would try for my case. As the bus drove off I dismissed it all with a mental wave of my hand. Damn late shifts.

Thanks for reading, double thanks if you comment

__________________
"Life is possible only with illusions. And so, the question for the science of mental health must become an absolutely new and revolutionary one, yet one that reflects the essence of the human condition: On what level of illusion does one live?"
-- Ernest Becker, The Denial of Death

vonstalhein

I like that idea. But you don't wanna get mixed up with future and alternate pathways, you'll just sound like McEwan...

__________________
No Win No Fee

J.R.V.A.

Sounds pretty cool to me

__________________
And as she plays,
her sweet song of laughter
floats through the air
and warms my heart