Genre: Suspense
“Scuse me mate, getting on the bus or what?”
“Oh sorry, could you give us a minute?” Julian tapped his leg anxiously, glancing down the empty street,
“She’ll be here.”
“Mate it's half five in the morning, one minute then I drive off with or without you alright?”
Julian pulled his scarf tighter around him. Here he was straining his neck as if he could see around the bend, yearning to hear the click of ankle boots hitting the sidewalk in a brisk rhythm.
He sighed, this was the only bus into town for another two and a half hours. He glanced down the street one more time before he got on the bus.
Every morning for the past eight years, Julian would wake at a quarter to five, eat two sunny- side up eggs with beans and buttered toast while listening to The Beatles on his CD player, as he got ready for work. He would then make his way to the bus stop for 5:15 am where he would sit on the bench and wait.
Until this morning, Julian would swear he was only waiting for the bus, but it just dawned on him that he was waiting for her too. Every morning at about 5:20, he would hear boots clacking on the pavement, right before she entered his line of sight as she turned the bend. He always made it to the bus stop before her. There on the bench, she would take today’s paper out of her bag and sit a little close, elbows almost touching, and he knew she had started doing it so he could read the newspaper too. It had become a habit now.
Every morning like clockwork, elbows almost touching they would sit and wait on the number 68 bus together, ride for two hours, get off when they reached the last stop in town and finally go their separate ways. Julian would tip his hat she would reply with a polite smile see you tomorrow it read, as they both exited the bus. They repeated this cycle every morning for the past eight years.
That chilly winter morning someone broke the cycle.
The day was absolute hell, who knew he was such a stickler for routine. This small event had thrown Julian’s entire day off. He couldn’t focus on anything except Ms Ankle boots. He smacked himself for not knowing her name. She would be there tomorrow, he thought to himself.
Julian woke up at a quarter to five, ate two sunny-side up eggs with beans and buttered toast and listened to The Beatles on his CD player as he got ready for work. He quickly got dressed and almost ran to the bus stop. She would be here. She had to be.
“Scuse me mate, getting on the bus or what?”
“Oh sorry, could you give us a minute?” Julian tapped his leg anxiously, glancing down the empty street,
“She’ll be here.”
“Mate it’s half five in the morning, one minute then -”
“You drive off with or without me,” Julian cut in.
The driver didn’t seem to notice but something made Julian pause, a nagging in his brain.
No, he thought to himself, today had to be different.
A piece of him was evidently tethered to that bus. As it drove down the street his heart lurched as if to follow, but he had more important things to worry about. He couldn’t afford another distracted workday. Regardless of why, he knew something was painfully wrong. It started to nag at him from the day before, and for whatever reason, Julian knew that finding Ms Ankle boots would somehow make it right. The chosen title was admittedly a little rude, but it was first and foremost on his list of things to rectify. If only he knew where to start.
He was looking for someone he semi-shared a newspaper with, every morning at a bus stop. Someone he never said a word to. He didn’t know her name or exactly where she lived or where she worked, but she had apparently become an integral part of his day and without her, he was spiralling. Okay, maybe he sounded a tad crazy but who wasn’t sometimes?
Julian walked through the chill of the winter morning, the mist clinging to his clothes adding a crisp layer to the air around him, but he hardly felt the cold. He was on a mission. Just ask a question, someone has to know something. Yet, Julian walked and saw no one. Strange he thought, Mrs Jenkins is usually drinking tea on her porch and you could usually spot George out on his tractor well before you reached the farm. It's pretty nippy out maybe they felt to stay in.
He must have made a wrong turn somewhere, or his mind was so preoccupied he hadn’t noticed where he was going and managed to walk himself in circles. Julian was right back where he started- the bus stop. This time someone else was there.
Odd, I’ve never seen him before, must not be from around here. Age seven or eight Julian guessed, well polished in a school uniform and a newsboy hat. He made to walk by him and carry on with his aimless wandering, but the boy had other plans.
“Walk with me,” the boy said. Julian stopped short in surprise.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Walk with me,” the boy said again, green eyes locked on Julian so intently it made him want to squirm.
“Why do I get the urge to ask you what stocks to invest in.” Julian’s chuckle died off awkwardly.
“Walk with me.”
“Listen, lad -”
“Daniel.”
“Okay, listen Daniel, I’m sure your mom would like to hold onto you for quite some time, so how ‘bout you not offer to walk off with strangers. Maybe tell me where you live and we can wait for the right bus together? There’s someone I’m hoping to see anyway.”
"Natalie crossed over already, she's hoping to see you too."
Julian blinked in confusion, but the wrongness that had settled in his chest since yesterday morning started to slowly dissipate.
"You can't really expect to go on calling her Ms Ankle boots for the rest of eternity, now, can you? That would be rather rude."
"Well come on then," Daniel chirped, openly amused at Julian's perplexed state, "you’re finally ready to crossover.”
~
Eight years ago on February 26th 1991, a chemical explosion went off at 6:28 am at Waymar’s Lane Industrial plant. This explosion is said to be one of the most devastating factory explosions since USSR’s Chernobyl instantly killing 22 workers and obliterating the East wing. A passing bus was also caught in the ripple effect. Experts say the driver most likely lost control of the bus when the explosion went off causing him to swerve off of Waymar’s Lane bridge.
All 14 passengers, including the driver, are said to have died on impact.
Locals claim that number 68 still passes, making its way into town. Every morning like clockwork, they hear the rumbling of the bus on the empty street.
Song Inspiration: Somewhere Only We Know -Keane
Blog.reedsy.com Writing Prompt
“Each morning for years, you and one other person waited at the same bus stop for work. This was the first time they weren't there.”
Eco Product Shout Out: Sustainable Watches https://www.thegoodtrade.com/features/sustainable-wooden-watches-for-men
Eco- Article: “5 Home Renewable Energy Options You've Never Heard Of”
https://www.thespruce.com/home-renewable-energy-options-4102025
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