The Midnight Bus Shelter

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic
As the last angle of the Sun shone on this working class neighbourhood, the witch had seemingly cast a solemn spell on this town.

Submitted: November 11, 2010

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Submitted: November 11, 2010

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It was a pitch of black that only occurred during the winter months. A few hours before the abandoned high street was bursting with hundreds of people, who scurried around performing their meaningful tasks.As the last angle of the Sun shone on this working class neighbourhood, the witch hadseemingly cast a solemn spell on this town.The shops were bordered shut.The street’s dead silence echoed.Down the street, passed the shops, a bus shelter appeared, barely visible by the one flickering light, that hung lifelessly above it.The shallow weak air banged it against the side of the shelter wall.This place was a shit hole.The dark emptiness it implied was Gothic.Through the broken grey door was the inside.This bus shelter had been buzzing with the miserable people who dwelled here during the day.It was now a stagnant chaos, the potential energy that gathered here in the internal anguish of the passengers was not present in this hour.The air was dead, the rot of the putrid smell of highly acidic urine hung to the air.The background odours crept up behind the others, equally powerfully repugnant.The reek of alcohol lumbered in the atmosphere, sweating out of someone’s pores.And laying on top of this was the smell of toxicity being burnt.These odours laying on the dead air intoxicating this small space. The oxygen levels remained balance due to the frosty air that drew in the air from outside, the harsh draft streamed in from the cracks on the walls.
The seats of the bus stop, were as uncomfortable as they had always been.They were now covered in in tattered sheets, which were once white but now a light brown with a greenish tint.It reflected the unspeakable revulsion it had been dragged to and fro.This was used as a table cloth, were lines of crack, pipes, straws and foil littered the surface.In the distance of the room, the muffled sound of an old radio tried to awaken the energy of the room, but as it was as if it were haunted with the ghosts of this hopeless midnight hour.The radio was playing the song mournfully.The sounds being produced were deep long suspended groans, that were dragging out, with each sorrowful vibration.
One of the men was nodding his head with the sounds of the radio, as if it were rhythmic.They all crouched, in varying positions around the bus stop seats.There were three.The nodding young man dressed in heavy black was aged about twenty years, his face somehow communicated his immaturity.Contradictory were the deep wrinkly sagging around his eyes, His cheeks sucked into his face, was a illustration of the severely malnourish body that pumped blood to this lifeless face.He wore a black cap that had NY engraved in it, it was titled to the side, alluding further more to the fact that this character was immature.His baggy army pants and black hooded jacket had never seen the pleasure of soaped water.He was crouched before the invented table and carefully inspecting the white substance with his grubby hands.He was deeply concerned, his strained face observing the powder like it were bacteria multiplying under this scientist’s microscope.
Next to the young man there was the other, he was an elderly man, who sat with his back against the seats.He was swigging a bottle of whisky, in a state somewhere between a day dream and unconsciousness.He had severely greying hair that was sparse,weak white strands that were spattered around his bright pink splintering scalp.His face was a violent salmon coloured complexion, a manifestation of the confused hysterical blood that rushed desperately around his capillaries, responding to his delirious heart, that was either pumping too fast or far too slow. The contradicting impulsed it received from his constant alcohol and crack consumption, had cause chaos within him. His eyes infrequently rolled towards the back of his head loosing understanding over its exact purpose.His face, it was seriously debilitated, each extreme crumpled ridges all over his ancient face told its own story like the rings of an one hundred year old tree, each ring showing the struggles and pleasures endured in every season.His long beard wired out of his face and tanged up together, like a wild creature it had a presence of its own.He wore a large brown coat that consistently appeared to be wet,it had never been taken off, the tapestry had formed alliances with his skin, and it was now sluggishly rotting away with him.In his eyes their was not a single glow or flicker, his dead soul of regret and violence was evident somewhere within the blue iris of his pupil.His mouth hung down as if it had collapsed into his face.He face scarring was irregular, it was difficult to make out the difference between artificial scarring and the wrinkles where his skin wasted away, it’s alignment parading the fact that this man had spent most of his life in this lifeless state; somewhere between death and decay.
The third man was standing with his massive booted foot lounging on the seats.His dark brown skin shining within the twinkle of the dim moonlight, radiating a rough black canvas, as black as coal next to the pale complexions of his companions. He has long curly hair of dreaded locks neatly held at the back.The maturity of his skin was apparent, but his face is littered with soft scars.He is a slim man with an athletic build, and wears a large leather jacket and jeans, the most striking was the large gold chain dangling around his neck.He had a permanent audacious grin on his face, he scanned his environment looking at the filth as if it were a portrait of dirt, but it was clear; he was enjoying its revulsion.His peremptory mannerisms, came out in every movement of his arms, the way he slumped his shoulders, even the obnoxious way he breathed, sucking in every breath like it stunk.He flicks away the burned out cigarette turning his head away dissatisfied.His name was Locksly.


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