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Unblinking

Weird happenings on the late-night bus

By John WatsonPublished 2 months ago 2 min read
Unblinking
Photo by Lukas Borre on Unsplash

Shadows crept along the length of the bus as the vehicle moved through the back streets of the city passing under flickering streetlights. Tiredness swept across Adam, who wanted nothing more than to sleep after another 12-hour shift, his sixth in a row, but he feared that he would miss his stop and extend an already long day.

He leaned his head on the window, which was when he caught the reflection of the man sitting across from him. The man was immaculately dressed in a suit that looked like to cost more than Adam made in a month. His hair was slicked back, not a single lock out of place, and he worse a smirk on his handsome face. It wasn’t the usual attire of a city bus passenger, but what was stranger still was that he was staring directly at Adam.

Adam didn’t remember seeing the man when he got on the bus or remember him getting on at any of the stops they had made on the journey. Still, he was exhausted, so he was sure the dapper Dan has got on at some point without him noticing.

Removing his head from the cool glass, Adam turned to face the stranger, whose smirk had now become a full-on grin, the look sending a shiver down Adam’s spine.

“You look bone weary, fellow traveler,” then man said in an accent that was impossible to place.

“Yeah. Long day at the office.”

The stranger tilted his head to the side, the smile continuing to spread like a wound tearing open.

“Can I help you with something?” Adam asked, one eye on the exterior of the bus to see if he was close to his stop.

“Bone weary, yet still full of life.”

Adam reached for the cord that would signal the driver to stop, but before he could do anything, the stranger’s hand was on his shoulder.

“Stay or go?” the man asked.

“I just want you to leave me alone.”

The smile vanished as the stranger’s eyes filled with black ichor. “Not the question. Stay or go?”

“I want to go,” Adam replied, feeling warmth spread across his crotch.

The man reached out and touched Adam’s forehead, his too long finger dry as snakeskin. “Then rest, weary traveler.”

Adam’s head lolled back, neck bulging, mouth agape as his body began to evacuate sinew, tendons, organs, and everything else that belonged inside.

“Not so full now,” the stranger said, his smile returning.

Horror

About the Creator

John Watson

Originally from Scotland, I now live in Atlanta with my chef wife Penny. I am a horror author with 16 books published to date. I look forward to reading and interacting with other writers.

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