Creepypasta Stories

On Floating Bodies

Written by O.H. Manchester on Creepypasta.com

Whenever Gideon said something like "This is going to be fucking awesome" the end result was, inevitably, disaster. But that was ok. Aidan loved disaster.

So when Gideon showed up on that gleaming summer Thursday morning and asked if he wanted to do something, Aidan immediately said yes. The repetitive buzzing hum of the Arizona suburbs bothered him less when the boring reenactments of days prior were brokered with the faint illicitness of Gideon's minor transgressions.

" Where are we headed?" Aidan asked, forgetfully adding "bitch" at the end of his question. Their skateboards rattled past the identical houses. The mailboxes tried out as extras for "The Persistence of Memory" in the morning sun.

"Swimming pools" Gideon didn't look around at all . Just stared straight ahead at the indistinct scenery.

"Dude, fuck you didn't say something? I don't just wear bathing suits under my shorts."

"We aren't swimming."

"Then what about pools?"

Gideon did a kick stop and then skated off, faster than Aidan could, without looking to see if he was following, without saying anything.

"God. Hate you, dude." He sped up, chasing his friend's rapidly disappearing frame.

They rode to the bus stop. When the bus came, late and already crowded, they shuffled in, slipping in between the crowd to maneuver to the back.

"Fucking hate riding the bus, man." mumbled Aidan. "Ugh."

"It was better before the routes got slashed to save money. They blame it on unions and pensions but that's not it."

"It's this economy man."

"It's not the economy. Everybody says that. Like these bus driver pensions are going to bankrupt the whole world. Because retired bus drivers live a life of unimaginable luxury."

"Right?" laughed Aidan.

"Dudes drove busses for like thirty years. Busses. For thirty years. And then they retire and then the company starts complaining about their pensions? Dude, they knew how much the pension was going to cost. And so did the bus drivers. That's why they were bus drivers."

"This economy though."

"Hate it when people say that. Because the economy got messed up we should be fine with no pensions? No savings? No security? No jobs? Because why? Were those gifts, and

we should have been grateful? But the fucking rich white dudes on top - no offense -"

"None taken." Aidan's dad owned a construction business which had done quite well in the the housing boom. Now it was slowly going bankrupt and bleeding out. Most nights he fell asleep to the sounds of his dad's beer cans opening. They sounded like gunshots or maybe distant storms.

"-they stay just as rich? Fuck that."

The bus lurched out of a red light. Gideon looked around.

"Our stop."

"Corner of Marx and Lenin ?"

"Intersection of icepick and Trotsky" he reached across the aisle and pulled the signal. "Ding."

They had drifted into another section of suburbs. It looked exactly the same. The comfort of stranger's subdivisions. Streetcars named Paxil.

"Now where?" he asked.

"Left for like, five minutes."

They rode in silence, cars roaring past them. The sun continued rising.