Saturday 24 June 2023

Debut Flash: 'Bus stop 4' by Jeremy Boyce

It was early evening and the sky above was already deep blue-black.

Street, house and shop lights glowed outwards from pillars, posts and curtainless windows. Pools of down-light formed and gradually expanded, the passing traffic tracing white and red streaks above the black bitumen,

There was no wind to stir the dust or rustle the autumn leaves, and the sky under the bus stop was strangely still. People come and go, getting off, getting on, leaving stains and cigarette butts.

When they come , some hurry at the last minute, others are early, waiting worryingly and accusing their watches.

A gradual implosion towards the worn spot on the kerb stones where the doors hiss open. Now, the space was empty, and the bus stop was left waiting alone.

They were walking away in all directions, bags and rattling roller-cases grasped in tired hands :



                                                                       Scattering



                                   outwards

                                                                                                                 from

                    The                                            Bus stop



each

                                                                                                                  at

                                   their

                                                                                                                 own

                                                                       speed,

meeting someone in a waiting car, walking with quick or slow steps, returning or possibly just arriving. They came together on the bus, now they were going their own ways.

The departing red lights disappeared from view in a cloud of diesel fumes, passengers swallowed whole through the double-doors and baggage stowed in the guts. They came their own ways, now they were going somewhere together on the bus.

There was nobody left at the bus stop to see the bright stars and darkening sky coming their own ways together.





A strong black hand rolled a white bike along from right

                                                                                            To

                                                                                    Left,

                                                                            Black

                                                                    Wheels

                                                            Turning

                                                    Slowly

                                            Towards

                                    The

                            Stop

                    But

            It

Didn’t.

 

 

 

 

 

---

Editor's note: due to intentional formatting, this piece is best viewed on a larger screen.





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