\"Writing.Com
*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2017543-The-Wheels-on-the-Bus
Item Icon
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Thriller/Suspense · #2017543
A thriller story about a bus ride (rough ROUGH! draft)

The Wheels On The Bus

I lived just a couple blocks away from a small town called Heavens Ridge with a population so low even an elementary student could count to it. It had the essentials all small towns have, a few diners, one creepy motel with an even creepier owner, a movie theatre where the floor was always sticky, and of course schools and decent suburbs. Today was possibly the third or forth month of school, I wasn't really sure since the days and weeks had already started to get jumbled together. After going through the usual high school student morning routine, I plopped into my small white 1995 Jeep and drove towards the bus stop. The car was old, a mess, and to be quite honest needed a tune up. Yet over all its years it still shuffled down the narrow asphalt road nonetheless. In our town, there was only one main road, Main St. It was probably the first thing ever built here and I drove down it twice nearly every day. It was dark out this morning, which was unusual since Dawn Ridge hardly ever got below more than a dim glow. That's basically all I recalled of the car ride besides that it was dull and received as little of my attention to this day as it did then.
I hadn't been sleeping well, getting out of bed had been a struggle after the events I'd been through; I got to see what the rest of my family looked like when they all wore black, I was beaten for not crying when my sister died, scolded for laughing when it wan't proper and shunned by the majority of my family for being different. My father beat me only slightly more than he beat my mother which was in fact. constantly. If I tried to run away or hide it only made it worse, he would say, “You're a coward! And no son of mine would be a coward.” He always said I wasn't his child and bared a disappointed scowl every time he saw me. He had a face like an old pit bull and weight enough to shatter our solid oak coffee table when he fell slobbering drunk just last week. My mother, and recently deceased sister had blonde hair and blue eyes, my father a mop of red grungy hair and green eyes that hid behind large frame glasses; I however, had black hair and hazel eyes. My mother said that her father looked a lot like me but I never met my grandfather and since my family didn't believe in family photos unfortunately, there wasn't much I knew about any of my family members. All I knew was my family was going down hill, and recently it was getting far worse. My mother couldn't bare to see the family falling apart, at least that was her excuse for drinking the rest of her near daily vodka bottle. My sister was the only person who understood me, she was lovely and my only reason to actual want to be home. Now that she was gone however, I got out of the house every chance I got. The best escape, was school but not a day went by when I couldn't here the mixed sounds of my father screaming, “ aren't you grieving! Don't you miss her!” and my mother crying when she found out my sisters illness had taken her life. So one could say my life in Heavens Ridge was almost like hell.
I had just pulled up to the bus stop and parked. The ride there now a drowsed blank in my mind. The bus stop was just a sign with a bus on it planted in a concrete block amongst a wide field of rough gravel. I got out of my car still sluggish and droopy eyed and managed to look around. It was nothing for miles. I didn't even see the road I came from, I took this as my eyes still adjusting and didn't think much of it.
I walked over to the far end of the concrete block where I usually stood alone since no one else came to this bus stop. I waited, and after finally waking up a little I started becoming impatient, “The bus is never late,” I said to myself. I checked my watch to make sure it wasn't just me, the time read 00:9, “what?” in a pitch higher than normal. I looked at my watch closer in puzzlement, “Oh,” I had put my watch on upside down this morning. I flipped my watch over the time read 6:01 the bus got here in 14 minutes that's when the sound of a small sniffle emerged to the left of me.
I looked over to find a small boy crouching next to the bus sign. He had a red and green plaid shirt, blue jeans, short blonde hair and a big black backpack and was looking down towards the concrete.
“What are you doing here?” I asked concerned about when he actually got there
“The bus always leaves without me,” the boy said he looked up at me his eyes were almost abnormally bright blue like brightly lit christmas lights and tears hid behind them; He couldn't have been any more than 8 years old.
“ Why does the bus leave without you?” I walked over to him and sat down.
“Cause I'm sick,” he said choking back tears, “and they're all afraid they'll catch it.” Tears now built like walls in front of his eyes.
“Well why doesn't your mom take you?”
“She's afraid to, she just won't say so, she says it will be alright and soon i'll get better, but she just leaves me here.”
“I'm so sorry, but it's good to know you'll get better though right?” I said with a smile
“she's a liar” he wiped the tears from his eyes, “I won't get better.”
Air brakes blasted to the right of me causing me to jump clear out of my skin, my bus was finally here. I got up and walked over to the bus and got on; Strangely there was no bus driver. I thought he must of left to go to the bathroom when I wasn't looking. So I went and sat down a few rows back. I looked out the front of the bus and saw the kid still looking at me his eyes were almost glowing blue.
I felt compelled to help him, I couldn't let this kid be here alone. Him and I were the same both of us felt alone, unwanted, and scared. I looked at the wheel of the bus, “Can't be much different than driving a car.” I said to myself before running over to the boy, joy filling me. This feeling was odd though, it wasn't my own. It felt as if it were placed there by some outer force that was now griped my entire being. Yet, behind this faux feeling, my dread was burrowing deep as I reached the boy,
“Tell you what kid, today I'll be you're bus driver,” the kid smiled as if he expected me to say that. We walked over onto the bus he sat just a few seats back while I took the drivers seat. I put it in drive and with no experience as a bus driver, and leaving any actual bus driver that may have been here behind, I pushed forward to get to the only elementary school in town. As I drove farther into nowhere a song slowly grew louder and louder, “ The wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round, round and round.” At first I thought it was the radio so I turned the volume down, but the song still grew louder I looked back thinking perhaps the kid was singing or playing something. He was just looking at me with the same smile as before. As I looked at him however, the song resided before finally stopping. He must of just been playing it.
“Are we almost there?” the boy asked.
“Almost.” his blue eyes shimmering in the rear view mirror.
Then when I looked back at the road we weren't on gravel anymore, we were back on the main road I could tell because we had just passed the theatre and that meant that the elementary school was next on the right. I slowed down and pulled into the school,
“Thanks for riding with me,” I said with a smile.
“No, thank you,” the boy replied. he got out of his seat ran over, gave me a hug and ran off to school. He stopped at the door to quickly wave goodbye. I waved back of course, that's when I noticed his eyes, they were even brighter than before. This time they were glowing, I was almost sure of it. No, it probably was just me being paranoid. I felt my heart suddenly sink into my stomach. “Wait, what kind illness does that boy have?” The grip I had felt earlier squeezing me to the point of irritation suddenly released.
The invisible stones that had been placed on my chest lifted. I breathed heavily; At least it was over now. I got back on the bus and started driving towards my school trying to escape this nightmare I was placed in. I knew now it was only a matter of time before I would hear the sound of police sirens chasing me to an unavoidable fate. Then I heard it again, that horrid song from before. It wasn't being played at all, it was implanted, It was inside my own head just like the sign at the bus stop unable to move and for me, unable to escape. I tried plugging my ears and singing other songs in my head but all were drowned by the now blaring of the wheels on the bus. Anger swarmed like a hive of hornets, “The boy,” I thought, “ he made it stop last time he can stop it again,” I ran back towards the school as fast as I could hoping to stop the pain that now lived inside my mind. By the time I got to the school the song was rattling all the way down to my bones, I could barely walk I wanted to collapse and just give up. I searched and searched but the boy wasn't there. I hopped back in the bus and prayed that I'd see him on the road somewhere. Now clawing at my mind trying to get the song out of my head I gripped at my sanity feeling the blood running from my ears. I felt a tornado of razorblades in my head swirling to the melody. I screamed in pain, I couldn't take it. Then I saw him, he was in the back of the bus, singing that damn song. I slammed on the brakes then grabbed the tire iron that was resting next to the window.
I rushed to the back of the bus stricken with insanity, bursting with anger, and desperate for my own peace of mind; Even if it required bloodshed. I bashed the child over the head splitting his skull and spilling his innocent little mind all over the filthy brown bus seats. Still he looked up at me smiling,
“What the hell is wrong with you!” I continued to savagely beat this child till his face was reduced to a fleshy pink pudding.
Then the song stopped, my rage subsided and a pool of blood filled the floor of the bus. I turned to find the the bus wasn't empty, it was full of what looked like 4th graders; All of them had caved in skulls, including the bus driver. I looked back at the boys now battered corpse, “You little bastard, you got me sick to.” I looked in the rear view mirror of the bus, my brown eyes now shifted to a bright blue. I wandered off the bus, my blue jeans now red and grungy my black shirt now damp and reeking of blood. Alone, unwanted, but no longer scared; And now, I was late for dinner.
© Copyright 2014 Ambrosius Lee (ambrosiuslee at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2017543-The-Wheels-on-the-Bus