The Bus Driver

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic
One Fatal Mistake

Submitted: January 29, 2008

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Submitted: January 29, 2008



Death was here—or so it seemed. As I awoke that cold, Monday morning, I noticed the window was caked with ice it felt as if something didn’t feel right, there was an odd sensation that I kept getting, but I shook off the feeling and went to turn off my buzzer. A chill of pleasure and comfort went down my spine, as the warm water ran from the shower faucet all over my naked body. There came a knock at the door—it was my mother, telling me to hurry up. I groaned and turned off the water. I quickly got dressed, combed my hair, and turned on the fan to suck up all the steam. I gave my mom a good morning yawn and sat down to eat my breakfast. After I got done eating, I got up, did my dish, grabbed my lunch and headed outside toward the end of the driveway, where I saw the synchronizing beams of red on the front of the bus, as it pulled to a stop. I politely said good morning to the bus driver, and made my way to the back of the bus, where my friend Jenny was waiting. “So what happened today?” I asked.

“Some kid got kicked off for making faces in the mirror,” she said with a big grin on her face, “Then, we got pulled over by the cops because, the driver was doing fifty-five on a twenty-five,” she concluded.

“How about you?” She asked, “How was your morning?”

“It was good,” I replied, “ although, I’m still tired.”

“I think everybody is,” She answered. We hit a big bump and my backpack leapt in the air, and landed right back down—right where the sun don’t shine. Jenny saw it, she tried not to laugh, but she couldn’t help it.

“That had to hurt!” she exclaimed.

“Oh, yeah,” I said crossing my knees to ease the pain. I looked at Jenny; she was scraping off the ice from the inside with her fingernail. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the class daredevil pull out a straw, and stuff the end with paper.

“What are you doing” I hissed, “Do you want to get kicked off the bus?”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” he whispered back.

“What did he do to you?” I asked.

“Nothing, I just feel like pissing him off!” the daredevil replied.  I leaned back in may seat and let the daredevil do his business. All a sudden, I heard a thoop as the force of the air shot into straw, and the wet paper was propelled through the air, and it landed on the back of the bus drivers head with a splat. The bus driver pushed hard on the brake, which sent both, mine, and Jenny’s body forward. There was a sharp pain in my neck, as I was thrown back into my seat. I though I had have whiplash—but I didn’t. The bus driver got out of his seat and made his way to the back of the bus.

“Which one of you smart-ass’s did that?” he asked pointing a pudgy finger at me.

No one answered.

“Were not going anywhere, until I know,” he said calmly. Jenny scrapped the rest of the ice off the window and jumped with horror.

“Please, Mr. Bus driver, we have to move, were on the railroad tracks, and there’s a train coming!” she squealed.  Everyone got up to leave, but the bus driver blocked their path.

“No one’s leaving, until I know,” he said coldly. Jenny and I got up, and I admitted that I threw the spitball.

“You two come with me,” he said. In addition, he led Jenny and I out of the bus into the chilly morning. Air. He raised a finger to scold me, but before he could, there was a blood-curdling scream coming from Jenny. Both, the bus driver and I turned, and saw a gruesome sight: the bus that was on the railroad tracks was split in two, and no one seemed to getting out.



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