I was thinking of writing a book or something smaller, so I thought; let's give it a try here.
This will be the first part of a hopefully long story, if there is no appeal then I wouldn't bother you guys with it
Let's go!
"52, 53, 54, 55, 56; Ah no she gets back off, 55, 56, 57" Was Mark slowly counting, he grabbed his notebook and writes down: "Church Street; 57 people" He then closed the rather old and scruffy looking notebook. It was one of those notebooks that are probably so old you don't even recall buying yet they're still in good enough shape to be used. Not willing to put his book away Mark decided to put it on his lap with the blue pen, it's a pen you can buy in pretty much every self respecting store yet he did care about this pen because it was his favourite pen. After positioning the notebook on his lap he then looked through the window next to his seat, at least he tried. The dusty and dirty windows were a challenge to look through, especially now in the winter weather. Washing the bus seemed to be a task no one cared about, this resulted that people on the bus were forced to look right at an haze instead of a window and if you were lucky you were able to get a glimpse of something outside. Slowly and with the brakes making a loud noise the modern looking bendy bus stopped at the stop. The bus might look modern but the scruffy dust collectors called seats and the sounds the interior made whilst driving gave away that it might be older than people would think
"58,59; Not so many people here" He opens his notebook once again and writes down "North-Avenue, 59 people". It became a habit for Mark to write down how many people were on the bus at each stop the bus stopped. He never got why he did it or what he would do with the data but he just did it. Before closing the notebook he glared at all the pages where he has written something down, there wasn't much variety since it was all data of the amount of people on the bus in the past 6 months. 'Hmmm, we're there; Time to pack' was he thinking and did the action fitting the thought he had. Slowly he gets up but he was forgetting that his pen was on his lap, in a fast movement without any thought he catched the pen mid-air but the rapid movement cause the notebook he was holding in his left hand to fall on the floor. "Oh great, now I look like a complete idiot" he murmured to himself as he picked up his notebook from the dirty busfloor. Slightly frustrated Mark grabbed his briefcase from under the seat, opened it up stored his notebook in it. His pen however was something he stored in his black raincoat, in the inner pocket to be more precise. Meanwhile the bus drove into the busstation directly connecting to the trainstation "Time to release the pigeons" Mark said silently to himself whilst laughing at his own remark. As the vehicle came to the busplatform people all jumped up and started to rush to the, still being closed, doors. 'Every time it's a miniature black friday' He thought as he was looking how people were pushing eachother whilst getting of the bus. Against his own will Mark got up, mixed into the crowd and got off the bus without being pushed now and then by the impatient crowd.
He looked at the clock above the busstop and saw it was 18.26 "we're late" was his remark he angerly said to himself but aimed at the busdriver. He decided to try his luck and ran to the platform where he hopefully could catch the train.
Allright, this was the first part.
Tell me what you guys think of it
Topic: A short Tale (Read 1907 times)