the long and short of it

Heavy Heart

The sun hung restlessly in the evening sky. Its subsiding rays shone down on the Travel Express bus that trundled haplessly along the tarmac it's shiny windows reflecting the support cables of the Humber bridge as it flew over the still estuary that lay below the cables soon turned to trees and the sunlight now shone intermittently through the bus window as they rushed by.

The blinking light had been a welcome distraction for a short time, but now even this failed to cancel out the thoughts that had been plaguing Sam's mind.

Deep down he knew that it made no difference what he tried. All he knew was when he was conscious of the world, he only became more aware of the horrors that had happened only a few hours ago.

He stretched back into the seat in search of cover from the flashing light, which had now become more of an irritation than a blessing. This seemed to calm the monstrous thoughts and before long he relaxed into the journey.

The rhythmic thrum of the engine helped, and he found himself relaxed enough to examine the dingy interior for the first time. The musty smell of Old dust and body odour filled his nostrils as he cautiously scanned the seats.

"Hello," the old woman who was sat next to him said. Her face seemed familiar but Sam just couldn't place her withered appearance.

"Have you been on here long," she continued, turning towards Sam. Her black lifeless eyes burned straight into his, she smiled, A wide sadistic smile at him while leaning into his face before Sam could even react. "We know." she whispered into his ear catching it with her lip which scraped across his skin like ice.

Sam awoke with a start, his breathing had become panicked and heavy, it wasn't long before Sam realised the whole of the bus was staring. Some passengers sniggered under their breath, a few made rude comments, and some seemed to be generally concerned. But all the same, avoiding any contact was the name of the game, and it was one he was determined to win. He retreated under his hood, trying hard to avoid any more embarrassment or more importantly any awkward conversations.

From there on in the journey was unbearable, his nerves made him aware of every minor irritation. Like, the rough fabric of the Gordy orange seats that had begun to chafe on any skin he had exposed. The whispers of the other passengers, which did not help with his already lively paranoia in any way. Even the relaxing rumble of the bus, now just made him jiffle and shift awkwardly in his seat. It was then He started to realise his brash decision had been a mistake. Taking the bus had left him far too exposed, and what made it worse was he still had another hour till the next stop.

That hour lasted a lifetime. Sam had never been as relieved as when the bus finally pulled in to the poorly lit station, it hummed with the chatter of people who stood in the old bus shelters, paint flaked off the decrepit havens. Exposing their metal skeletons to the elements, this just added to the already obvious dilapidation and grim atmosphere.

The unmistakable smell of oil and petrol filled Sam's lungs, hitting him like a sledge hammer as he stepped off the bus. This, mixed with the cold air made him feel sick. He wrapped his thin, useless coat around himself.

But this did nothing to alleviate the nauseous knot in his stomach. Which Forced him to run for the closest public toilet, it had seen better days. It smelled strongly of stale urine, and most of the tiles were cracked and emblazoned with lude Graffiti.

Nevertheless, Sam proceeded to soak his face with water from the cleanest sink he could find. Looking up at himself in the mirror He noticed his eyes had become sunken with dark circles around them, drawing into his face, that was now gaunt and pale. He looked nothing like himself any more. He found it impossible to take his eyes off the image, as It continued to change.

Becoming more and more drawn His eyes were now blacker, almost non-existent. His face was changing shape now, his nose began to peel away, his face melting away before his eyes. He stood transfixed by the image before him. It was a featureless generic skull, his skull, it stared back at him from the mirror.

Sam stumbled back from the horror that had greeted him in the reflective surface, slipping awkwardly on the wet floor. Sam landed hard, but he didn't care about the pain. He just grasped at his face frantically and to his relief and surprise, it was still the same. It was still his normal plain face, he hauled himself up and hurriedly buried his hand in his pocket.

He pulled out a highly polished, solid silver heart. It had the most mesmerising ornate pattern on one side, and engraved on the other was a strange inscription in a language that had been long forgotten. He squeezed it hard to his chest, it's beating had become stronger, it was getting stronger. Just one more Sam thought, and he could bring him back, and be with him forever. Just like the old woman had said.