Here's a little Halloween special for all of you, as well as a short story.
A while back, my friend and I got on a bus which brought us to the last stop. There, we got off and I followed her through steep slopes and trudged through muddy tracks guarded by thistles. When we finally reached the open space, we rested there, shooting photos and eating colourful buttons that came in a tube.
But the time came when we knew that the sun would fall. I told her that I should return, so together, we back-stepped to the place where we had arrived -the bus stop.
|a broken pencil.|
While we were shooting, I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, a pale figure slipping through a gate about ten feet away from where we were. It was a child, and I wondered what was a child doing on his own around dusk, straying about desolated bus stops. I clutched my camera tighter, but we pretended to ignore him and mentally, I casted a protective sphere around us.
He paused, staring at us with his unfocused eyes; then he walked towards us, past us. The next time I looked around, he had disappeared.
We finished shooting and kept our things. Laughing at the absurdity of the shots we had taken, we sat there and proceeded to actually wait for the bus. Once or twice, I looked around, just checking the surroundings. Everything was still.
Just when it seemed about time, the bus arrived. The driver parked it, had a smoke and only beckoned us aboard five minutes later. We clambered on and chose our seats in the empty bus.
From the distance, I saw the boy returning. I imagined that we were now safe onboard the bus, but he did something queer. He came right up to the window and pressed his face against it. My friend stared stiffly ahead; my eyes flicked back and forth, both trying to ignore him but yet trying to be on guard. Then he stepped backwards, lifted his palms to his mouth, blew kisses towards us and finally walked away.
As soon as he did, my friend turned to me and asked if I could move and allow her to change her seat. However, we looked around first. 'I think he's really gone,' I told her. 'If he comes back, I'm moving,' she replied, and I agreed with her.
'He was like a spirit,' she said.
Then the engine roared to life and as we shuttled away, I think we both breathed with relief.
|a left-behind bus ticket.|