Fiction

Fiction Friday – A Bit From The Bus

Thought that I’d give you a glimpse into what I’m working on – the first draft of a short story:

 

The smoky grey interior of the bus was interrupted by the lemon yellow of the rising sun. It’s occupants were passed out on various surfaces − burping, snoring, farting – as the bus bumped along the highway, its tires humming a monotonous drone as it made its way through the frozen heartland.

A long ago burned out cigarette lay in the hand of one of them, who was crashed on the table, his hair spread like a red-gold fan across its top.

The drone of the tires changed timbre as the bus shifted down, making its way off the highway onto the turnpike that lead into the next town.  The occupants of the bus slept on, oblivious to the approach of their destination.  The tour had been going on for weeks, and they’d become used to the tin can that they called a tour bus with it’s sometimes spotty heating and miasma of smells that couldn’t be identified but that seemed to be a mix of body odour, sweat and the pungent smell of cigarette smoke.

As the bus came to a stop, the door opened and a measure of the funk was drawn out and replaced with biting cold air and the occupants were joined by a short, stocky man who made his way down the aisle, shaking awake the bodies that he encountered along his way.

Stopping in front of the table, he regarded the owner of the cigarette and hair with a weary glance.

“You going to get up and move Jonathan?”

The head of hair moved, revealing steel blue eyes that met the hazel eyes of the short, stocky man with a defiant glare.

“When I can fucking feel my legs again, I’ll move Dan. Not a minute before.”

Dan grunted a response and with a shrug, moved on through the bus to the bunks where the last member of the group had found a place to sleep for the night.

With all of his charges in some form of awake state, he headed back out into the crisp early spring air, the door of the bus swooshing shut with a thud behind him, leaving the occupants to grab their bags and head out.

As they filed out, the golden haired man lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply.

“We’re here boys. Another hick town in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere.”