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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Mystery
- Subject: Horror / Scary
- Published: 04/07/2017
The Black Bus
Born 1964, F, from Gordon, ACT, AustraliaClem kicked her little brother, sending him sprawling to the loungeroom floor. “Go get me a drink,” she demanded.
Walter rubbed his bumped head, and used his hands to smooth his ruffled hair into further chaos. He wordlessly went to fetch her a cola.
“I didn’t ask for a cola, ‘tard!” she screeched. “I just wanted water. And don’t you dare drink my cola, you pour it down the sink, or else!”
Walter u-turned with the cola and headed back to the kitchen.
“And don’t forget the ice cubes!” his sister yelled.
As if he’d forget after last time. He swore his arse was still bruised from the punishing kicks.
He fetched Clem her water, and waited until she’d nodded her approval before he sat back down.
Peace reigned. For the moment.
Walter wished his parents would hurry up and come home from their dinner so he could relax. He wished he could tell them how utterly awful it was to have his big sister babysit him, but he was too frightened of the repercussions.
His prayers were finally answered, and he listened with relief as the family wagon crunched into the driveway. Then the sound of his parents cheerfully arguing and laughing on the doorstep. The key scraped in the lock, and they were officially home.
Clem’s vicious ratface instantly transformed into her sunny goodgirl face.
“Hey baby,” his mum gave Clem a hug. “Thank you so much for looking after him. Was everything okay?”
Clem raised her shoulders in a long suffering shrug. “It was all right, I guess. You know.” They shared a knowing look, one caregiver to another.
Her mum gratefully slipped her a tenner, which Clem made disappear with the alacrity of a seasoned con artist.
“Hi honey,” his mum grabbed Walter and kissed the top of his head. Her breath smelled like sour wine. “Did you have a nice evening? Did you behave yourself for Clem?”
Walter felt Clem’s menacing gaze and nodded dully, excusing himself to go to bed.
He was awakened the next morning by the sound of knocking from the other side of his bedroom wall. Her majesty was awake. He sighed and shrugged into his dressing gown before creeping out of bed into the cold morning.
He poked his head around Clem’s bedroom door.
“What?” he asked grumpily.
Clem stared at him in surprised anger. “I beg your pardon, buttface!” she hissed. “What did you just say to me?”
Walter gritted his teeth. “Sorry, Clementine,” he sighed. “What can I do for you?”
“That’s better.” She lay back in her toasty warm bed and contemplated the ceiling. Walter’s feet were freezing, and he shifted his weight from side to side to keep them from going numb.
“Stop fidgeting, you little creep! I’m trying to think what I want for breakfast. Let’s see. I want some toast and cereal, and a coffee. Let me know when it’s ready, and don’t muck it up.” She rolled into her blankets and closed her eyes in bliss.
Walter hobbled through to the kitchen to make breakfast and put the heater on so Clem would have one less thing to complain about.
They finished eating just as their mum came through. “Oh Clem!” she gushed. “You’ve made breakfast for the two of you. Good girl.”
Clem beamed modestly. “It was no trouble at all,” she truthfully replied.
Her mum smiled fondly at her. “Are you still okay to take your brother to school on the bus with you this week?”
“Of course! Nearly ready, Walt?”
Walter nodded and took the dishes to the sink. Clem slyly poked her foot out, sending him flying. Dishes bounced and smashed on the hard tiles.
“Oh my goodness!” exclaimed Clem. “Are you hurt? Are you okay?” She looked over at her mum who was staring in open-mouthed shock.
“Don’t worry, mum. He was just trying to help. I’ll clean this mess up.”
She waited until her mum left the room. “Clean this mess up, clodfoot. And make sure you do a good job. I’m watching you.”
Walter fetched the dustpan and broom and knelt on his bruised knees to clear away the debris while Clem kept an eye out for parents.
After quick showers, they pulled on their cold school uniforms, and were out the door.
It was a glorious autumn day. The cold morning was softening to a gentle warmth, the sunshine not yet ready to surrender to the approaching Winter. Trees blazed in a glory of colours so bright they hurt your eyes. Smells of burning leaves and damp undergrowth so nostalgic it nearly hurt.
Clem parked Walter at the front of the bus stop. “I’m going over there to have a smoke,” she pointed to a sturdy tree that was wide enough to hide her activities from the casual passer-by. “You keep an eye out for the bus.”
Walter filled with pride at his responsibility as he watched his big sister walk away. Then she stopped, head bowed as if making up her mind about something important. Another step, she stopped again, then turned around and looked earnestly at him.
“Just make sure it’s the normal bus,” she whispered.
Wait. What??
Walter scampered after her, important responsibility forgotten. “What do you mean, the normal bus?” he whispered back.
Clem gaped at him in disbelief. “You mean, you’ve never heard of the Black Bus?”
Walter mutely shook his head in bewildered fear. This really sounded like something he should know about.
Clem patted him on the head. “I’ll talk to you about it later,” she promised before vanishing behind the tree. “Now go watch for the bus.”
The green schoolbus hiccupped and farted its way to the bus stop before wheezing to an asthmatic stop. Clem led the way on board, Walter hanging back in a frenzy of doubt. It looked like a normal bus, but how could he be sure? Why couldn’t Clem tell him about the Black Bus now, instead of making him wait? What if the Black Bus picked them up from school and he didn’t know?
The bus driver stared at him blankly, sunglasses turning his eyes into shiny dark coins. Walter jumped aboard, narrowly avoiding being crushed by the closing doors, and scuttled up the aisle after Clem.
He tugged on her sleeve. “What’s the Black Bus?” he squeaked as they made their way to the back of the bus.
“Shhh,” she hissed crossly. “Do you want everyone to know about it? I told you I’d tell you later.”
Walter sat in fear all the way to school, waiting for … who knew what! The day passed in a blur of a little boy’s imagination. Then he waited in trepidation for Clem to meet him after school to catch the bus home.
Clem spent the trip home flirting with some pimply boy in the row in front of them. At least he thought it was flirting; it seemed to involve an awful lot of hitting and trading insults. Whatever it was, it ensured he was left alone with his own thoughts, none of them reassuring. And it was no good pressing Clem for information; she’d tell him about the Black Bus when she was good and ready. He knew from experience that nagging would only make her dig her heels in. He only hoped she gave him the lowdown before it was too late.
Clem decided to take pity on him later that night, and offered to tuck him in and tell him a story. Their mum gratefully looked up from her wine and TV show and blew them kisses. Their dad waved in their general direction, his attention glued to the TV screen.
Walter sat in bed and waited for the story. His face was pale and wary, eyes glistening with fearful concern. A strange expression passed over Clem’s face. If he didn’t know better, he might have mistaken it for guilt. Mixed, perhaps, with a little compassion.
“Tell me?” he whispered. “Please?”
Clem looked past him and stared at the blue bedroom wall, and told him a tale that nearly stood his hair on end.
“The Black Bus,” she sighed. “It always comes around in autumn, just as everything’s dying for winter. It looks like a normal bus, but that’s just a disguise so kids don’t know to run away from it.” She paused.
“What does it do?” whispered Walter.
“It picks up all the bad kids,” she replied, gravely. “It waits until the bad kid is too close to escape, then it changes into its true form.”
“What’s its true form? What does it really look like?”
“It’s blacker than midnight. Blacker than death. It’s full of dead kids who were bad in this life, and they died on that bus. When it changes, you can see all the rotting kids, their faces are green and their hair’s fallen out of their heads. They’ve got sores all over their bodies, and their schoolclothes are full of holes. Their eyes have shrivelled away to nothing, and the eye sockets are black and full of worms.”
Silence, while Walter processed this information. “Who drives the bus?” he asked in dread.
“He looks like a normal bus driver, but he changes when the bus changes. He’s a black demon with flames for eyes, and a mouthful of needle-sharp teeth. He grabs you with his long black claws and pulls you into the bus.”
Walter breathed out in awe. “But don’t other people see it?”
Clem shook her head ominously. “To everyone else, it looks like a normal bus. They see a bad kid getting on a normal bus, but then forget they ever saw anything. When they see the kid’s picture on the news, they shake their heads and say how sad it is but they don’t even remember seeing him get on that bus. And they never find the kid, ever. He never comes home, and they never ever find out what happened to him.”
Walter leaned back in bed, his eyes huge and swimming with tears. That strange look passed over Clem’s face again like a cloud over still waters, and she patted his head.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “You’ve just gotta be good, and the bus won’t sniff you out.”
She abruptly got up and left the bedroom, pausing at the door to look back into the shadowy bedroom. “Sleep tight, bro’.”
Walter lay awake until sleep stealthily took him, unwilling and unaware.
He dreamed of the Black Bus that looked normal until you were too close to run. The bus was cold and damp, and smelled of the long dead creatures that once had been human. The demon driver reached out its withered leathery hands, and snagged his pyjamas with its cracked and filthy claws.
“Welcome aboard, little man.” The demon snorted laughter, maggots falling from its nose and awful mouth. “All the naughty kiddies are welcome aboard.”
It jerked Walter forward, pyjama buttons flying off with the force, and he skidded down the cold, slimy aisle. He picked himself up and looked around in the eerie blue light at the other passengers. They were wearing the remnants of school uniforms, faded and torn with age and damp. Bony toes poked out of holes in their shoes, skulls gleamed and nodded under the awful light. The stench was appalling.
And they turned to look at him, flames burning in the depths of their eyeless sockets.
Walter shrieked and shrieked, “I’LL BE GOOD! I’LL BE GOOD! OH PLEASE, PLEASE!! I’LL BE GOOD, I PROMISE.”
He woke to his mother’s perfumed embrace and the sight of Clem’s face, wild and frantic in the doorway. “I’ll be good, I promise I’ll be good,” he sobbed.
His mother thought Walter was talking to her, and she soothed him gently back to sleep with encouraging words and kisses on his sweaty head.
It was easy to dismiss the night’s terror in the cold light of day. Clem had actually let him sleep in until the alarm went off, which was pretty cool of her. And she left him to eat his breakfast in peace, which was even cooler.
They didn’t talk much on the way to the bus stop. Clem silently left to have her smoke, and Walter kept an eye out for the bus. The normal bus.
The familiar green schoolbus appeared over the hill and made its way to their stop, the doors easing open.
It was a different driver today. He turned and smiled at Walter and Clem, and Walter didn’t like that smile one little bit. Something was really really wrong.
Clem climbed onto the first step, and for a moment the bus shimmered, revealing its true form beneath.
Walter gazed along the bus, at the long-dead schoolboys nodding in their seats and staring sightlessly out of the bus windows. He slowly turned his head back and stared at the driver, who grinned at him through a mouthful of dripping, grey needle teeth. Flames flared in its dead black eyes as Clem took another step.
“Clem,” Walter whispered hoarsely, terror robbing him of his voice. “Don’t get on the bus.”
Clem looked back at him with tears in her eyes as the demon reached for her. “I have to, Walt. Take care, little brother. Be good.”
The demon jerked Clem into the bus, and the black doors closed on her screams.
Walter waved the bus goodbye with a sad joy in his heart.
The Black Bus(Hazel Dow)
Clem kicked her little brother, sending him sprawling to the loungeroom floor. “Go get me a drink,” she demanded.
Walter rubbed his bumped head, and used his hands to smooth his ruffled hair into further chaos. He wordlessly went to fetch her a cola.
“I didn’t ask for a cola, ‘tard!” she screeched. “I just wanted water. And don’t you dare drink my cola, you pour it down the sink, or else!”
Walter u-turned with the cola and headed back to the kitchen.
“And don’t forget the ice cubes!” his sister yelled.
As if he’d forget after last time. He swore his arse was still bruised from the punishing kicks.
He fetched Clem her water, and waited until she’d nodded her approval before he sat back down.
Peace reigned. For the moment.
Walter wished his parents would hurry up and come home from their dinner so he could relax. He wished he could tell them how utterly awful it was to have his big sister babysit him, but he was too frightened of the repercussions.
His prayers were finally answered, and he listened with relief as the family wagon crunched into the driveway. Then the sound of his parents cheerfully arguing and laughing on the doorstep. The key scraped in the lock, and they were officially home.
Clem’s vicious ratface instantly transformed into her sunny goodgirl face.
“Hey baby,” his mum gave Clem a hug. “Thank you so much for looking after him. Was everything okay?”
Clem raised her shoulders in a long suffering shrug. “It was all right, I guess. You know.” They shared a knowing look, one caregiver to another.
Her mum gratefully slipped her a tenner, which Clem made disappear with the alacrity of a seasoned con artist.
“Hi honey,” his mum grabbed Walter and kissed the top of his head. Her breath smelled like sour wine. “Did you have a nice evening? Did you behave yourself for Clem?”
Walter felt Clem’s menacing gaze and nodded dully, excusing himself to go to bed.
He was awakened the next morning by the sound of knocking from the other side of his bedroom wall. Her majesty was awake. He sighed and shrugged into his dressing gown before creeping out of bed into the cold morning.
He poked his head around Clem’s bedroom door.
“What?” he asked grumpily.
Clem stared at him in surprised anger. “I beg your pardon, buttface!” she hissed. “What did you just say to me?”
Walter gritted his teeth. “Sorry, Clementine,” he sighed. “What can I do for you?”
“That’s better.” She lay back in her toasty warm bed and contemplated the ceiling. Walter’s feet were freezing, and he shifted his weight from side to side to keep them from going numb.
“Stop fidgeting, you little creep! I’m trying to think what I want for breakfast. Let’s see. I want some toast and cereal, and a coffee. Let me know when it’s ready, and don’t muck it up.” She rolled into her blankets and closed her eyes in bliss.
Walter hobbled through to the kitchen to make breakfast and put the heater on so Clem would have one less thing to complain about.
They finished eating just as their mum came through. “Oh Clem!” she gushed. “You’ve made breakfast for the two of you. Good girl.”
Clem beamed modestly. “It was no trouble at all,” she truthfully replied.
Her mum smiled fondly at her. “Are you still okay to take your brother to school on the bus with you this week?”
“Of course! Nearly ready, Walt?”
Walter nodded and took the dishes to the sink. Clem slyly poked her foot out, sending him flying. Dishes bounced and smashed on the hard tiles.
“Oh my goodness!” exclaimed Clem. “Are you hurt? Are you okay?” She looked over at her mum who was staring in open-mouthed shock.
“Don’t worry, mum. He was just trying to help. I’ll clean this mess up.”
She waited until her mum left the room. “Clean this mess up, clodfoot. And make sure you do a good job. I’m watching you.”
Walter fetched the dustpan and broom and knelt on his bruised knees to clear away the debris while Clem kept an eye out for parents.
After quick showers, they pulled on their cold school uniforms, and were out the door.
It was a glorious autumn day. The cold morning was softening to a gentle warmth, the sunshine not yet ready to surrender to the approaching Winter. Trees blazed in a glory of colours so bright they hurt your eyes. Smells of burning leaves and damp undergrowth so nostalgic it nearly hurt.
Clem parked Walter at the front of the bus stop. “I’m going over there to have a smoke,” she pointed to a sturdy tree that was wide enough to hide her activities from the casual passer-by. “You keep an eye out for the bus.”
Walter filled with pride at his responsibility as he watched his big sister walk away. Then she stopped, head bowed as if making up her mind about something important. Another step, she stopped again, then turned around and looked earnestly at him.
“Just make sure it’s the normal bus,” she whispered.
Wait. What??
Walter scampered after her, important responsibility forgotten. “What do you mean, the normal bus?” he whispered back.
Clem gaped at him in disbelief. “You mean, you’ve never heard of the Black Bus?”
Walter mutely shook his head in bewildered fear. This really sounded like something he should know about.
Clem patted him on the head. “I’ll talk to you about it later,” she promised before vanishing behind the tree. “Now go watch for the bus.”
The green schoolbus hiccupped and farted its way to the bus stop before wheezing to an asthmatic stop. Clem led the way on board, Walter hanging back in a frenzy of doubt. It looked like a normal bus, but how could he be sure? Why couldn’t Clem tell him about the Black Bus now, instead of making him wait? What if the Black Bus picked them up from school and he didn’t know?
The bus driver stared at him blankly, sunglasses turning his eyes into shiny dark coins. Walter jumped aboard, narrowly avoiding being crushed by the closing doors, and scuttled up the aisle after Clem.
He tugged on her sleeve. “What’s the Black Bus?” he squeaked as they made their way to the back of the bus.
“Shhh,” she hissed crossly. “Do you want everyone to know about it? I told you I’d tell you later.”
Walter sat in fear all the way to school, waiting for … who knew what! The day passed in a blur of a little boy’s imagination. Then he waited in trepidation for Clem to meet him after school to catch the bus home.
Clem spent the trip home flirting with some pimply boy in the row in front of them. At least he thought it was flirting; it seemed to involve an awful lot of hitting and trading insults. Whatever it was, it ensured he was left alone with his own thoughts, none of them reassuring. And it was no good pressing Clem for information; she’d tell him about the Black Bus when she was good and ready. He knew from experience that nagging would only make her dig her heels in. He only hoped she gave him the lowdown before it was too late.
Clem decided to take pity on him later that night, and offered to tuck him in and tell him a story. Their mum gratefully looked up from her wine and TV show and blew them kisses. Their dad waved in their general direction, his attention glued to the TV screen.
Walter sat in bed and waited for the story. His face was pale and wary, eyes glistening with fearful concern. A strange expression passed over Clem’s face. If he didn’t know better, he might have mistaken it for guilt. Mixed, perhaps, with a little compassion.
“Tell me?” he whispered. “Please?”
Clem looked past him and stared at the blue bedroom wall, and told him a tale that nearly stood his hair on end.
“The Black Bus,” she sighed. “It always comes around in autumn, just as everything’s dying for winter. It looks like a normal bus, but that’s just a disguise so kids don’t know to run away from it.” She paused.
“What does it do?” whispered Walter.
“It picks up all the bad kids,” she replied, gravely. “It waits until the bad kid is too close to escape, then it changes into its true form.”
“What’s its true form? What does it really look like?”
“It’s blacker than midnight. Blacker than death. It’s full of dead kids who were bad in this life, and they died on that bus. When it changes, you can see all the rotting kids, their faces are green and their hair’s fallen out of their heads. They’ve got sores all over their bodies, and their schoolclothes are full of holes. Their eyes have shrivelled away to nothing, and the eye sockets are black and full of worms.”
Silence, while Walter processed this information. “Who drives the bus?” he asked in dread.
“He looks like a normal bus driver, but he changes when the bus changes. He’s a black demon with flames for eyes, and a mouthful of needle-sharp teeth. He grabs you with his long black claws and pulls you into the bus.”
Walter breathed out in awe. “But don’t other people see it?”
Clem shook her head ominously. “To everyone else, it looks like a normal bus. They see a bad kid getting on a normal bus, but then forget they ever saw anything. When they see the kid’s picture on the news, they shake their heads and say how sad it is but they don’t even remember seeing him get on that bus. And they never find the kid, ever. He never comes home, and they never ever find out what happened to him.”
Walter leaned back in bed, his eyes huge and swimming with tears. That strange look passed over Clem’s face again like a cloud over still waters, and she patted his head.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “You’ve just gotta be good, and the bus won’t sniff you out.”
She abruptly got up and left the bedroom, pausing at the door to look back into the shadowy bedroom. “Sleep tight, bro’.”
Walter lay awake until sleep stealthily took him, unwilling and unaware.
He dreamed of the Black Bus that looked normal until you were too close to run. The bus was cold and damp, and smelled of the long dead creatures that once had been human. The demon driver reached out its withered leathery hands, and snagged his pyjamas with its cracked and filthy claws.
“Welcome aboard, little man.” The demon snorted laughter, maggots falling from its nose and awful mouth. “All the naughty kiddies are welcome aboard.”
It jerked Walter forward, pyjama buttons flying off with the force, and he skidded down the cold, slimy aisle. He picked himself up and looked around in the eerie blue light at the other passengers. They were wearing the remnants of school uniforms, faded and torn with age and damp. Bony toes poked out of holes in their shoes, skulls gleamed and nodded under the awful light. The stench was appalling.
And they turned to look at him, flames burning in the depths of their eyeless sockets.
Walter shrieked and shrieked, “I’LL BE GOOD! I’LL BE GOOD! OH PLEASE, PLEASE!! I’LL BE GOOD, I PROMISE.”
He woke to his mother’s perfumed embrace and the sight of Clem’s face, wild and frantic in the doorway. “I’ll be good, I promise I’ll be good,” he sobbed.
His mother thought Walter was talking to her, and she soothed him gently back to sleep with encouraging words and kisses on his sweaty head.
It was easy to dismiss the night’s terror in the cold light of day. Clem had actually let him sleep in until the alarm went off, which was pretty cool of her. And she left him to eat his breakfast in peace, which was even cooler.
They didn’t talk much on the way to the bus stop. Clem silently left to have her smoke, and Walter kept an eye out for the bus. The normal bus.
The familiar green schoolbus appeared over the hill and made its way to their stop, the doors easing open.
It was a different driver today. He turned and smiled at Walter and Clem, and Walter didn’t like that smile one little bit. Something was really really wrong.
Clem climbed onto the first step, and for a moment the bus shimmered, revealing its true form beneath.
Walter gazed along the bus, at the long-dead schoolboys nodding in their seats and staring sightlessly out of the bus windows. He slowly turned his head back and stared at the driver, who grinned at him through a mouthful of dripping, grey needle teeth. Flames flared in its dead black eyes as Clem took another step.
“Clem,” Walter whispered hoarsely, terror robbing him of his voice. “Don’t get on the bus.”
Clem looked back at him with tears in her eyes as the demon reached for her. “I have to, Walt. Take care, little brother. Be good.”
The demon jerked Clem into the bus, and the black doors closed on her screams.
Walter waved the bus goodbye with a sad joy in his heart.
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Kevin Hughes
06/01/2019Hazel,
"A sad joy." Who in the world (besides you) can write a story where that is an accurate description? I am so glad I walked to school...like most folks my age: through two feet of snow, and uphill both ways." I have known a few Clem's in my life- and if I knew where that bus was, I might have driven them there.
Now I have to watch Wall-E and get rid of the chills.
Oh, and congrats on the massive "Author of the Month" Award! You earned it by robbing everyone who reads you of their sleep.
Smiles< Kevin
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Hazel Dow
06/05/2019Thank you, I live to rob folk of their sleep. I feel I have accomplished something .
Help Us Understand What's Happening
JD
05/31/2019Good one! Although, I think maybe a 'black bus' should be coming for those parents as well! THANK YOU for all the outstandingly horrific short stories you've shared on Storystar, Hazel! CONGRATULATIONS on being chosen as the Short Story Writer of the Month! :-)
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Hazel Dow
05/31/2019Thank you so much!! Can't describe how chuffed I am right now. I am so grateful to Story Star for giving me the vehicle (no pun intended) to get my stories out there to wreak havoc :-D
COMMENTS (3)