The Station

Clink, clink was the sound as I deposited my fare of $0.75 for my ride on the city bus. I didn't know where I was going, and I really didn't care. My longtime girlfriend had just dumped me because she received a job offer in New York City to be with NBC or something. We were in Boston. I tried to get her to stay, refuse the job, and we could continue living together and eventually plan our wedding. She said no, and asked me to come with her. We would live in a nice apartment in the city. She would be raking in big bucks with NBC, and I would be making big money as a lawyer, (I would have to get a transfer to my company's firm in NYC.) And we would be happy...but I declined. She promised that she would keep in close contact with me, and that we would remain "friends." I haven't heard from her since. Each night cried myself to sleep because I was so sure that she was the one. I loved her deeply. I still miss her so, and I would give anything to be with her again.

I turned to drinking to fix my relationship problems. I drank in the morning, evening, midday, and whenever else I felt like it. I started going into work late and drunk, with my black hair all matted and messed up, my clothes unkempt, and my blue eyes dazed and unseeing. Obviously, this cost me my job; since then I haven't been able to find lasting work--only two-bit jobs as a cashier at some store or a janitor, and things along those lines. Since she left me and started making big bucks with those NBC suits, my life had been a mess and I wanted change.

That is why I was on this bus. I wanted to get the hell outta dodge--find someplace new to live, start a new life, find a new job, stop my drinking, and possibly even start up a new relationship. But that wasn't going to be easy, and I knew that. However, I was willing to overcome those obstacles to start my life anew, a changed man.

I looked around the bus for a seat. I could see this was one of the older buses: the seats--which should be a vibrant blue--were faded to a dull gray. On the ceiling were a few dark brown, oddly-shaped stains. The floor was cluttered with napkins, papers, food bits, cups, gum, dirt--any piece of junk you could think of. I also noticed that the bus was basically empty, except for two elderly ladies sitting together in the front, a black guy listening to some music near the back, and a businessman talking quietly on his cell phone. I took a seat in the middle, right by the window, because I like to sit by myself on a bus. I'm not one for small talk.

As soon as I sat down, the driver made sure that there was no one else at the bus station, shut the door, drove off.

It was one of those days where the sky was so overcast it seemed to darken the Earth, one of those days where everyone feels especially tired. Couple that with the long bus ride and you get extreme boredom. Someone had left a copy of The Boston Globe on the seat next to mine, so I picked it up and began to read the front page. Nothing was really interesting to me; everything was about the war and the election, and I didn't much care for it. After reading some of the first article, I put it down and began to look out the window.

Outside was the same old shit that you see really anywhere you go--trees, road, sky, dirt, some scattered people, water, and small buildings. I saw some other stuff that you wouldn't normally see, but that you could find everywhere, like a big dead bird, some weird plants. I wanted to find something else to look at, so I got out my map and began searching for landmarks.

While driving on this deserted backwoods road (where the hell were we anyway?) I spotted some of the ones mentioned in the map. Most were tourist crap. The same stuff you can find anywhere else. But there was one thing that caught my eye that we passed by--it was called "Devil's Peak". It was this small, gray, jagged mountain that stood far off from the road. Down off in this area there was a tall tree that cast shadow all around it. Because of the overcast sky, it made everything in the tree's shadow look pitch black, like an abyss.

There was nothing more to see, so I pressed my face against the glass and dozed off.

***

"Mom, mom…MOM! I already told you, I said I was sorry!"

What the…

"Don't come crying to me just 'cause your life is a mess! I already told you, I'm not lettin' you stay here. You got to provide for yourself. Fix your own life, don't drag your damn problems into mine. I don't want you here--you're not a good person. You've leeched off me ever since you left home. Well, I won't have it!"

"We're losing him. Get the equipment..."

Wait, what's happening here? This isn't right.

"Mom, I told you I just need a place to stay!"

"You've been an asshole to me and your father."

"But, come on..."

"No! And that's it! Now get the hell out of my house!

***

I awoke from my nap, startled, and found everyone on the bus had gone. I looked out the window. Everything was pitch black. Nothing was visible, with the exception of a few piercing red lights way off in the distance. They were kind of creepy though; those lights looked like eyes.

I was still a bit frazzled from my dream of a time in my life I'd rather forget, when suddenly, a noise came from the front of the bus; I think the bus driver was calling me, but I couldn't understand him because I was still a little groggy.

I moved closer, and when I did, he repeated what he had said earlier: "Hey buddy, you're the guy that died drinkin' in the bar, right?"

What the hell was he talking about?

"It's Luc, right? Luc Michaels? Well look, you gotta get off 'cause it's your stop and it's the last one."

How did he know my name? And why did he keep saying I was dead? That's impossible, I couldn't be dead.

"Excuse me, sir, where is 'my stop' exactly?" I asked him. "Where are we, I mean?"

The driver said, "Why, we're in Hell, of course. Now look, you gotta get off this bus. There's some pretty important people waitin' for you."

Suddenly there was a loud rumbling that frightened the hell out of me because it sounded like a roar. I looked over at the bus driver, and he had this big, wide grin on his face that, along with the dark look in his eyes, made him look utterly insane. He reached over to the door handle, and I went pale as the bus door flew open. A tall, dark figure with flaming red eyes approached me slowly and menacingly, its arms outstretched.

THE END

Jon Bishop, age 16, is an up-and-coming young author who has been previously published in Bewildering Stories, as well as his high school literary magazine, and is hoping to continue his fledgling writing career. This is his third official publication, the first in another magazine. He has been writing for as long as he can remember, and has written at least twenty short stories in numerous genres, but prefers horror and speculative fiction the most. Why? Well, because it's fun to scare and it is fun to be scared, he says.

Currently, Jon resides in Wilmington , Massachusetts —a very stereotypical suburban town—with his family. He is currently in his junior year at Wilmington High, and he hopes to attend college and major in history, political science, journalism, or all three. He is an avid sports fan, with his favorites being basketball, football, and wrestling. In his spare time, he enjoys reading, playing the piano, writing all different types of things—occasionally venturing into that unknown territory of poetry, playing basketball, watching TV, playing video games, and just hanging around. Jon, in addition to being a writer, is an amateur impressionist and he hopes to perfect his impressions enough to someday perform them in front of a live audience.

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