Darkthorn’s Blog

The woman’s breast jiggled alarmingly. From my vantage point at the back of the bus, i could see that she was alone today. A moss-green sweater was stretched over her ample chest, whilst her long legs were encased in tight black jeans. My face grew hot at the though of her taking me home with her. She walked towards me, her pecuiliar greeen eyes glistening and her smooth black hair flopping adorably accross her nose.

Every day, on the 9:47am bus, I saw her get on a couple of stops after me. I always got off before she did, and so I wondered where she might be going. I promised myself I would ask her, follow her at least, find out what proffession she was. I doubted she would be interested in me, a pale boy. I was almost 18, but it didn’t feel like it.

this day was different. Although the bus wasn’t overcrowded, I looked up to see her sitting next to me. I shifted guiltily, pulling down my jumper.

She spoke.

“What’s your name?” I had expected her voice to be smooth, with a sounthern accent, but instead it was clipped, with a cheery overtone.

“Uh…” I stuttered in shock, cursing to myself. “I’m, um, Jack. What’s your name?”

She smiled.

“Nice to meet you, Jack. Where are you going?” I thought this was a bit strange. My school uniform was plain enough. And wasn’t it normal for people to respond with their own name when  asked?

“Uh, school. You know, like highschool.” My voice shook. She wouldn’t bne interested in me now, I seemed too young. “I’m in year 12. Doing the suicide five.” I laughted nervously.

The woman sighed, her face somehow turning inwards and sad. “Suicide.” She repeated it to herself, over and over, her eyes getting more and more wet.

I felt uncomfortable.