Before you read... this story doesn't end well. So, if you don't like sad stories, please click back. Don't want to make you feel bad :)
Sara sat at the bus-stop, her left foot tapping the floor to the beat of the song on her mp3.
She smiled. It was a good day to be alive.
Summer was quickly taking over the last rainy days of spring, as clouds gave way to blue skies and blazing sun.
The warmth was welcome after the long winter.
Final exams were fast approaching, but she felt pretty confident she would do well, and then –home. Two whole months to reunite with her family, to marvel at how much her little sister had grown, at how mature her not-so-little brother was getting.
Her best friend would be leaving those depressing hospital rooms in three days, the risky back operation a success.
Yes, she had plenty of reasons to be happy.
Sara waited in line as the bus arrived, and once inside walked towards the backseats, an almost unperceptible bounce to her step as she delighted in both having catched the express bus and having found her favourite seat empty.
As she sat, she saw a strange, old-looking box on the seat right before hers. It was quite large, placed diagonally over both seats, and it remained her of the well-worn trunks of old. That thought made her mind wonder a little bit, feeling like she should write it down –this could very well be the detail that managed to push over her writer's block and ger her writting again.
As Sara picked up her phone, the bus already speeding up the highway, she felt a little sick, a twisting feeling of dread in her stomach.
She straightened up and looked over the seat, trying to get a second look at the package. It sat alone, no-one claiming ownership nearby. But surely someone had placed it there so they could keep an eye on it; still, whenever she glanced at the box she couldn't keep a silent fear from tearing at her insides.
Telling herself it was paranoid and and dranatic and quite stupid of her, she hit "write new sms" on her mobile phone and quickly typed a message. There was no reason to feel bad, not now that everything was finally going as it should.
Trying not to stare at the package, she soon found herself gazing out of her window at the fast changing scenery.
It seemed impossible, completely unreasonable, but somehow she knew. The knowledge was etched deep in her bones, her flesh, her very soul – she knew she would not leave the bus alive.
Not five seconds had passed when the bus blew up, bursting in a column of fire, every single passenger dead.
Far away, in a little village up north, a phone beeped as a young woman received a text message. "I love you, mum. Take care". She smiled, then put the mobile phone back in her purse. She missed her little girl, but it was allright- she had to fly on her own at some point, and college was the best moment to do so. Besides, she would soon be back home, full of laughter and happy to rest after her final exams.
Three hours later that same woman would find her phone ringing, an unknown number carrying news of her daughter's death.
For the record, this story didn't just come to me... It's actually me panicking because of a suspicious package in my bus. So, obviously, the best thing to do was write about it. While keeping an eye on it. Just in case :)
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