The bus ride was bumpy, and uncomfortable. Surrounded by strangers you have no business with, strangers you don't know who the have business with. Stop after stop, the figures getting off, leaving fewer and fewer still with you. You sit in the back of the bus, staring into space as the rain pales your window. Your eyes start to flutter shut, as the rain calms you and the jolting turns into rocking. The dark haze seeps into your vision along with a heavy smoke that fills your lungs, suffocating you, making you gag. Smoke? You think to yourself. You look to the front of the bus. There is no front... You feel a sticky substance drip down the side of your head and you reach up to touch it. Blood? The daze makes you confused and slightly scared. Fire. It wakes you up, reality coming back to you. You get up and stumble, tripping on your own feet. Are you gonna run? This voice, where did it come from? The voice inside your head, whispering into your ear. You try to run, but it feels as if you're stuck, running in water, or tar, your feet sticking to the ground. Panic rises in your chest, making tears spring up into your eyes. The fire chases you down the path, why? Isn't this sand? Shouldn't it's life expired by now? No. When will it catch you? When will you burn to your expired lifetime? Your lungs burn from both the smoke and dander from the fire and from your racing heart, beating like in your chest. Your legs fail you, giving out from underneath your weight, making you fall, as the fire continues after you. Shattered glass, panic, fire, bodies, dead, blood, run.
YOU ARE READING
Short Stories
Short StorySometimes I feel like I need to write a short story, just to get out what I feel. Here is what I like to write down. :)
