The Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round

Lea

Lea half walked, half ran to the corner. The end result was reminiscent of a limping gazelle. She didn’t want to flat out run – she just wanted to make sure that she’d get to the bus stop before the bus.

The trouble was, of course, that the bus stop was across the avenue. If the light turned green, Lea might be forced to watch the bus pull up as cars and trucks and other buses separated her from it. That was the worst. Because not only would she have missed her bus, she’d have been there as she missed it, and she would have looked like an idiot missing it because of her limping gazelle impression.

 As it turned out, luck was on her side. The pedestrian walk sign was a steady white. Lea steadied her gait. She played with the metro card in her hand as she studied the people at the bus stop. Three. That was good. The bus hadn’t just left.

Nick

The plus side to public transportation is the free entertainment you get along the way. Even just waiting for the bus, there’s interesting stuff going on. Like the girl making a beeline for the bus stop – looks like she can’t make up her mind whether she

The Jump

There’s nothing for it, but to jump.

Peering over the edge, I almost hesitate. It’s a long way down.

Behind me, some of my friends, well, I say friends but…they’re gesturing wildly, their lips are moving but I can’t make out what it is they’re saying.

There’s a silence in my head, a kind of calm that washes over me.

I’ve pictured this so many times.

I’ve been wanting to do it for a while.

I wonder

Jack and the Pirate

Jack landed hard on the deck. He lay still, momentarily stunned by the impact.

 A wave of nausea hit him, as he tried to regain the use of his lungs. It was slow going.

He heard her approach. Deliberate steps. Light on her feet, never mind the occasional pitching of the ship.

 He flipped onto his back, the better to breath, and her face now entered his field of vision. She shielded him from the sun and, though it probably wasn’t intentional, Jack was grateful.

 She stood looking down at him for a beat. Then she

Just A Dream

It was just a dream. I say this because I hate stories where, in the end, you find out none of it really happened. So I’m letting you know. It was just a dream. But still.

Somehow, I was back in sixth grade. There was a school trip to some museum or other. We had just come out of the building. The sun was still out, it was probably nearing summer, or not yet winter.

The museum was near the water. It might have been a river or bay or the ocean, even. But there was a low wall, with a substantial ledge, and quite a drop to the water below. Looking down, I could see the water slapping against jagged rocks, the spray bursting and falling.

Then we were on the ledge, my friends and I. You know how dreams are, you just sort of end up in places. You don’t really travel.

So we were on the ledge. Sitting. Our backs to the water.

A Reprieve

The lounge is dim; it’s day out, but entering the room is like walking into night.

It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust. He’d thought the place would be empty at this hour, surely other people had jobs and lives. But no, apparently they didn’t. Most of the chairs, booths, and couches are occupied.

The music plays, loud enough for it to push any thoughts from his head.

He walks up to the counter, hitches his backpack higher up his shoulder. There are two girls ahead of him. He looks around, trying to find an empty spot to sit. If only there were fewer people.

Stop, Thief!

Author’s Note: I was feeling uninspired, I really wanted to write something; a story, a scene, anything…but I wasn’t feeling it. Then I got roped into going shopping (normally something I enjoy, but I wasn’t in the mood) and this happened. I apologize if the story sounds ridiculous, but you know what they say, “Reality is stranger than fiction.”

Lori trailed behind her friend, Christine, as they entered the store.

Lori was not in the mood of shopping. She’d planned on a night in – just her, some popcorn, and Johnny Depp. But Christine had called her in a panic. She had a party, but no dress, and would Lori please, pretty please, help her pick one out?

As Christine pulled dresses off the rack, Lori sighed to herself. She was a great friend. The very best.

“What do you think?” Christine asked, holding up a little black number.

Lori surveyed it. “Can’t hurt to try it on.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

They wandered the shop for some time.

“Hey, Christine, take a look at this,” Lori called.

Christine ambled over, both arms laden with dresses. “Pretty,” she said.

Lori reached out to check if it was the right size, but the dress was snatched from her before she could pick it up.

“What the -?”

A young guy was walking away from them, the dress and a purse clutched in his hands, as he threaded his way through the store.

Lori and Christine looked at each other. Lori’s heart beat a bit faster. “You don’t think…”

You’ve Got Mail!

The thunk of the mail slot opening and banging shut was always one of the most satisfying and exciting sounds I ever heard. It foretold of unopened letters, fresh magazines, the occasional flyer, and sometimes the odd piece of mail that had been delivered to the wrong house.

If I made it in time, I could see the whole wad of it being jammed through by some invisible hand. Sometimes I thought the mailman was done only to be surprised when an extra piece of mail fluttered through the slot, lagging behind its friends. Then the slot would bang shut for the last time that day and the mailman’s heavy footsteps would grow fainter and fainter as he continued on to the next house and the next.

There was never anything for me. I liked to sift through the mail, to see who the letters were addressed to, to try to figure out what secrets the envelopes contained. But they were never addressed to me. I always hoped, always dreamed of seeing my name scrawled in ink across the rectangular piece of paper, but I never really expected it.

It was in this frame of mind that I tumbled to the foyer, pulled by the clang of the metal slot hitting the door.