The Smog

Okay, here you go. A new short piece. As always, it’s unedited… you’ve been warned.

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There was a light in the distance, amidst the dense fog. Her footsteps echoed as she made her way across the street. Whispers, voices called her name; beckoning to get closer – she hurriedly made her way to the bus stop.  The air was still. Her skirt swayed to her movements of her long slender legs. High heels tapping on the surface of a pavemented street; checking her watch, it was still too early for the sun to come out.

The voices kept on calling her name. Vivian, Vivian, Vivian, they whispered as each time they grew louder and more violent. Faces formed in the mist, speaking words she could not understand. They coughed embers with each passing. Holding on to her coat, she sped up towards the light. As it came closer, the bus stop was beneath it. A small lamp post illuminated the tiny bus stop. Three brown moths encircled the light, tapping with their large wings, the plastic covering. Small faces on the moths’ abdomen grinned with a sadistic smile as their eyes glowed in a sinister crimson light.

A tap on the thin metallic sheet that covered her head, a tap on the ground; the scent of rain overwhelmed her. As rain showered the hidden street, she could see the flashes of lightning surrounding her, outlasting the now flickering light of the lamp post. More moths had gathered around the light, as the mist engulfed her.

Her phone rang; she took out it out of her small pink bag. It was the alarm, five thirty in the morning: she was going to be late. Out in the distance, two head lights dimly came into view. She walked to the door, still closed, foggy and nearly indistinguishable from the rest of the vehicle. Knocking on the cold glass, as tiny crystalline drops slid down the window, it opened. The driver greeted her as he took off his bright red hat. Long, unkempt beard, covered in grey hairs and white; sweaty face, sprinkled with sweat draining down his nose. Taking out her bus card, the machine beeped, as she walked down the empty isle to the back.

Wiping the fog from the window, she could barely see outside. The bus stop disappeared a few feet from the bus. As she gazed outside, staring at the dim lights that zipped past them, a face appeared before her. Sliding to the seat next to her, the image dissipated with the cold breeze, as five months held on to the window. Their faces glowing, nibbling at the window; she looked at the bus driver as he stared at her through the rear view mirror, “you must be new here,” he said.

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