Every day I get on this bus. Every day I see the same people. The guy sitting in front of me now with a brownish cap and and old warn out coat. This is the exact same spot he sits in every day without fail, the same book he reads each time getting a little closer to the end. The old guy sitting to the left of me in the exact spot every day. He does nothing other than stairs blankly out of the window like he is tired of life, I can sense a deep sad lonely feeling emanating from him like he has just recently lost someone he loved. The guy sitting behind me right at the back, a young guy in his early twenty’s constantly making phone calls and blaring out loud rap music on his beats headphones. You can sort of tell how everyone despises the guy with the amount of loud obnoxious phone calls he has with his mate “Derick”.
AJ the bus driver a very friendly guy everyone knows him, a young Turkish guy who came to this country about a year ago, he is very dedicated to his job and always strikes up a conversation with someone. But the reason I’m here today is for her. The same reason I’m here every other day, not to go home and relax after a long day at work like any usual person on this bus NO. I have been watching her for a while. She leaves her house at 8:30, walks the ten minute walk to the bus stop, gets on the bus at 8:50 and then travels to work. She then gets to work at 9:20 to her job as a Secretary, from then on she works most of the day till her 20 minuet lunch break at 1:00 she then gets back to work at 1:20 and then works for the rest of the day till 7:00. After this she walks to her local coffee shop and orders a medium latte. From then on she finishes her latte and heads off to the bus stop. She arrives at the bus stop at 7:45 and gets on the bus… well.. just about now I presume. I have remembered her exact routine.
Read more “The Bus”
The year was 1913 John Hawkins was the gravedigger of the town of New Haven. John was a known drunk to the people of New Haven his house sat inside of the graveyard. The townsfolk could hear him beat his wife, Helen, in a drunken rage her screams would go on at all hours of the night. People would see her bruises whenever she would leave, which was a very rare occasion. Until one-day people noticed that Helen was bearing a child. It was heard that she had the child and she died in result of losing to much blood. It was a little boy named Robert Hawkins.
A few years later people would hear the cries of the boy in place of his wife no one even seen the boy hardly at all only to help his father dig the holes for the dead. When the boy was a teen the people would see him more often he was a very small boy with hardly any meat on his bones. As usual when John would start drinking he would take his anger out on Robert until one night in a fit of rage he killed Robert with a blow to the head. When questions started popping up around town of the cause of death of Robert, John would simply answer “He just got sick.” When John would bury the dead he’d attach a bell to each grave so if the ‘dead ‘was alive somehow they could ring it as this was a common occurrence in these times where people in comas were mistaken for dead and so they’d wake up buried alive.
A few months after Roberts death, John was sitting in his living room drinking and listening to the radio, when he heard a faint bell. It was coming from the direction where Roberts grave was. John sat up quickly turning down the radio his ears at full attention very faintly the bell was still ringing. He stood up and put on his boots and grabbed his revolver incase if there were any unwanted grave robbers that John was used too. He walked outside still the bell rang very gently, John notice it was coming from Roberts grave.
John started to run back to the house to grab his shovel nearly falling in the process. He began to dig very quickly in hopes that Robert was down there alive. After an hour he hit Roberts coffin the hollow thud against the wooden box startled John at first. He opened the coffins door. The smell of decomposition filled his nose immediately, still, Robert was dead the lantern illuminated Roberts face which was very white.
“I could’ve swore I heard it.” John said. He closed the door slowly hoping Robert would say something. He reburied Robert making sure the string was in place for the bell. John went inside and went to bed as he laid there remembering the dead look in Roberts eyes. It was almost as if he was looking into the eyes of his wife’s. John remembered when he was a younger man when he met Helen, she was the daughter of his boss John was a construction worker in these times he practically built New Haven. John remembered when he first met Helen she had long blonde hair with long eyelashes and bright blue eyes and a chisel chin. John knew he was going to marry her.
He then remembered the first time he had hit Helen he was of course drunk but that didn’t make it any better. John felt sorrow over fill him. He began to cry.
The next night John was in his living room revisiting the memories he was having last night. When he heard a bell it sounded louder than the one the night before. He got up and grabbed the lantern and his revolver and ran outside it was coming from Roberts grave again this made John eager to hurry and get his shovel. He hurried to Roberts grave and began to dig again, the bell still ringing faster this time. And somewhat low pitch rather than the regular high pitch ringing. It seemed odd to John but he kept digging. About an hour later John hit the coffin again and lifted up the heavy door and Looked down and asked “Robert, can you hear me?” But to no avail. John felt enraged had someone attached another string to the bell and was playing some cruel joke on him. But why did it sound more deep, hollow almost. John put these thoughts aside, it just startled him he was overthinking it. He began to think about the sound it reminded him of the church bells at his wedding he remembered how happy he was. How beautiful Helen looked that day but Helens father did not approve of the marriage John was born to a very poor family his father had died when he was younger which his mother went through many husbands which to a result John had many brothers and sisters John was the middle child but he was expected to work and so his first job was a paper boy when John had enough money saved up he ran away at the age of 13. He thought about this while digging. But the hollow thud broke his focus. He opened the coffin Robert was there dead as the night before.
“What is going on?” John whispered to himself he looked up but then he began to feel eyes upon him, but not just any eyes, Roberts, He could feel the gaze looking at him he glanced down and Roberts eyes were closed. And so John climbed back to the surface and reburied the corpse. He then went back inside, John again laying in his bed remembered his childhood or what seemed to be a childhood he once endured but he remembered how hard he worked to run away from his problems and remembered how Robert was he would always be willing to help even though he knew his father would reject and abuse him, John believed that Robert truly did love his father and John could see in his eyes that Robert took pity upon him. John finally fell asleep.
The next night John wasn’t even in the mood to drink he couldn’t get the murder he committed out of his head and he was filled with sorrow for all the people who have left his life, he wasn’t entirely sure where his mother or siblings were or even cared. The Cuckoo clock dinged and john glanced up it was 12 o’clock but beyond the cuckoo clock john could hear it the bell it was loud very loud as if a church bell was beside his window as this was going on the cuckoo clock was still ringing seeming to get higher in pitch John cupped his hands over his ears but to no avail the bells chime seemed low and was vibrating the house very badly plates and various bottles of whiskey were falling off tables and counters John was terrified with each pound of the bell slugged his chest knocking the wind out. He stood up and starting running outside only to find that every bell attached to each grave was ringing, the only thought was Robert and what he did sorrow pounding his heart with each slug now his mind was numb with mournful thoughts of death he ran back inside and grabbed the bible under his pillow and finally screamed out
“I did it! I murdered Robert it was me! Forgive me all mighty God Please forgive me holy spirit please rebuke this spirit that is tormenting me forgive me!”
The next morning the town of New Haven awoke to find out John Hawkins was dead, he had died in his sleep, but the most peculiar part was there was a bell placed beside him on his nightstand.
I was standing next to my little sister as she blew out the candles. ” Happy birthday Sally !” I sang as the little birthday girl giggled. Today was my little sister’s birthday , and she was turning seven.
Walking in the kitchen was our mother , and she was carrying a present that was the same height as her. ” What is that mommy ?” Asked Sally but the middle aged woman only smiled and said “Well open it and see my dear.”
Read more “Dark Rosè”
It is a very uncommon deficit, those words stay with me… Its what the doctor told my dad, what my dad told me, and what the kids at school made fun of me for…
Termolophlaemene, or TPM, its been my closest enemy ever since I was born. Not a lot is known of it but what is known still terrifies me to this day. Around the age of 7 was when it really decided to kick in. I had already had a very difficult social life, I had no friends, my mother was killed in a car accident… She died in my arms that night, I had recently been homeschooled on account of my “deficit” so starting school in the middle of second grade with traumatizing imprints on my mind. It didn’t make it easier having uncontrollable and somewhat violent children running around.
Read more “I’m sorry”
My friend and I always used to walk through a wonderful, spacious park when we were younger. It was full of tall trees, and it was very nicely maintained. In this large park, there was an abandoned mansion – I can’t really say how long it had been there, but on that day, the front door of the mansion was wide open. The two of us decided to check out what was inside the place. As we inched through the door, the very first thing we noticed was that the mansion’s floor was littered with crumpled up pieces of paper. We looked at each other and observed that there was no furniture, nothing except for those wrinkled balls of paper. The mansion had six rooms on its main floor, and every room we entered bore more and more scrunched up pieces of paper.
We decided to open up one of the paper balls to see what was inside – our curiosity got the better of us. I picked up a single wrinkled piece, and, as my friend picked up another, I unfolded my paper, smoothing out its bends and dents. At that moment, it was almost as if a piece of a rainbow emerged before our eyes, and I was suddenly standing next to a large window in one of the upstairs rooms of the house. I was looking outside into the large park. When I looked down at the piece of paper I held, it read: ‘Look outside the large window that oversees the park in the upstairs parlour.’ I dropped the piece of paper and it fluttered gracefully to the ground. Meanwhile, I stared at my open hands in a bout of horror.
Read more “crunched up paper house”