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Wednesday 9 September 2015

5 PM, ON THE BUS, A Short Story by Scott F

                                                           5 PM, ON THE BUS


                                                                   by Scott F.


                                                                            
                                                                                               


Based on a dream I had on Monday 8th August 2014. The red-faced man looked like Red Skull from
Marvel Comics.


"He's coming back; the driver's coming back," the voice said.

"The driver had just gone to help someone who broke down;their car stopped right in front of us, it would seem,"another voice explained.

Our driver is boarding back onto the bus but fear is hitting us as another man is joining him, The man is holding a knife to our driver's back.

WE'RE BEING HIJACKED AT KNIFEPOINT! WE'RE BEING HIJACKED!

The man is standing stiff as a corpse, his red painted face bent out of shape by his crooked smile, Dread is starting to seep into our bones like a cold fog,

Three hefty unarmed men full of courage, and probably brimming over with stupidity, have decided to subdue the hijacker, I laugh at how easily they do it, Something is wrong! They struggle briefly but he throws them off,

I can't explain what is happening. I find a knife in my own hand and facing the hijacker with a clear strike, unhesitantly, I watch as I slash across his body, arms and legs. Turns out the blade is blunt leaving only superficial slices, thin lines of red liquid his limbs the same shade as his face. I feel no regret for my actions.

I'm in a state of panic but he is calm and seated. Neither injured nor in control. And yet we are still stuck, stationary. Somehow.

A friendly man appearing to be a passenger on the bus is stepping towards me. He hands me a spoon. It seems he's implying I should use it to attack the hijacker, but I notice in the corner of my eye the hijacker now has his knife again. Am I being set up to fight? Somehow none of this makes sense. Why has this all been so easy? What is going on?

In confusion I'm looking around the bus, everyone has their heads down and eyes shut in terror, This is feeling like a hoax-----Or am I the Hijacker?

I walk to the back of the bus and talk to my friends who are in disbelief. They dismiss my paranoia. This must be as it seemed, they say-----

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