Sunday, March 29, 2009

The Bus ...


We rode steadily under a venomous sky. It spat at us constantly. The road became increasingly repetitive, like an old record that had become suddenly stuck, repeating that same note; that one crackling word. Sleep was vicious, gnawing with sharp teeth it would not let go.

A pungent smell of smoke hung on like those who refused to shut their tired eyes- stubborn and unsettling. There were lined rows of cold steeled sky blue seats. They stood gallantly like soldiers at attention. With tunnel vision I peered out from behind the bold fabric seating.

The floor was speckled with the colours of abandoned and old tattered newspapers. The furrowed and forgotten faces of yesterdays stars were left to watch my every move. Half empty bottles rolled back and forth like a pendulum.
A grey soulless shade plastered every remaining space. It drained the life from the place making even its passengers seem characterless. Everyone wore that same wearisome expression.

An icy exhaustion started to creep up my spine, numbing
my entire body to its core. My mind began to freeze up. I stared out from behind the window, letting sleep take its tight grip. Raindrops trickled down the glass. They all raced each other for first place leaving their tracks along the way. Everything sped faster than before. Outside, the earth and sky became one swirling pattern of colour and light. I watched as the trees rushed by in all their autumn splendour. Their leaves danced in the fiery glow of street lights. They competed with the now vividly burning
stars for attention. I had finally found comfort in the purring
silence. My body all at once gave into the notion of sleep.

Before I let my eyelids drop I thought-One more hour.


Link to creative writing 101:
http://www.dailywritingtips.com/creative-writing-101/






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