The cold drizzle must have been getting to her. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe slowly. The seconds ticked by as passengers slowly ambled off the bus and walked off into the rain. Opening her eyes, she prayed that the bus driver was just an ordinary bus driver.
Why was she so fearful all of a sudden?” Jennifer wondered to herself as she stepped toward the bus refusing to look up as she entered. She quickly found her self in the back of the bus had not dared to look again at the driver.
“This is all in your head silly,” She thought to herself. “It was nothing but a dream.” She couldn’t help but feel around in her purse for the pepper spray she bought last year. It had been after walking home one night. A street dog had come out of nowhere in the corner alley and chased her away.
Looking up she finally stole a glance at the driver’s mirror in the front of the bus. At that same moment, the driver looked up, and their eyes met. Fear flooded her senses, and she has gripped the pepper spray container tightly. It was the man from the dream she knew, and dread curdled her blood.
“Why, why did I get on the bus…” She murmured to herself.
Breaking eye contact with the driver, she looked around outside for the first time since sitting down in the back of the bus. The rain had stopped, and it appeared that the sun might peak out soon. As she looked a slow realization crossed her mind. The streets had no names that she was familiar with. Glancing around her stomach sank as the bus turned corner after corner heading nowhere near her work.
She looked around the bus again and saw that there was only one other passenger. An old woman with a slight curl of her grey hair and a cruel smile that seems plastered on her wrinkled face. The bus continued past stop after stop as there was nobody to request to get off.
Moved by panic Jennifer pulled the stop cord only to see the man from the dream make eye contact with her and continue to accelerate through the suburban streets passing by stop after stop.
As Jenifer continued to survey the situation clutching the pepper spray tightly in her purse, she resolved herself.
How does this Story continue?
“Greg Writes a Story with You” Is a series of short stories where I write them with your help. In a “choose your own adventure” fashion vote on the Reformed Pipes Facebook page for how you would like to see this story continue. Or leave a comment below.
Voting Closes: February 28, 2018
Option 1: Speak with the old woman quietly
Option 2: Close her eyes and try to wake up