Commuters by Rich Hinchcliffe
It was late, everything was closed, and there was no other way. He had to go home and face the consequences. Barry put his hand up for a taxi, the yellow vehicle shot past, seeming to totally ignore him.
He took out his phone, the bright screen danced in front of him and hurt his eyes. The taxi operator's number just rang and rang. Feeling a bit woozy he held onto the bus stop. A moment late a bus stopped in front of him and the doors opened. Barry hated taking the bus and waved his arms to tell the bus driver he wasn't interested. The bus didn't move.
“All right, all right!” he said stumbling forward making his way onto the bus. He dug into his pocket and dumped his change in the driver's general direction.
Dizzy, he sat down in the nearest open seat. The bus moved forward. For a few moments he sat there with his eyes closed lolling around in his seat. Opening his eyes to see if he recognized the area, he froze and his eyes grew large. All around him were shadowy shapes with bright eyes.
Barry shot up, fell, and crawled to the front, pulling on the sides of the seats. “What are you?”
The shapes ignored him, some looking out the window. Getting back onto his feet, he tried the door. It shook, but did not open.
“Driver! Let me out!”
Barry turned around, wanting to grab and shake the driver to his senses, but stopped midway when he saw the man was also a shadowy form with bright eyes.
“No! No! You can't do this. Let me out!”
Barry stared at all the passengers. Some were looking at him. As if wondering what the disturbance was. Then it all came flashing through his head. After his tenth shot of drink he had fallen off his chair. There was a blank spot and then he found himself outside.
“It can't be!” he said, he looked down at his hands. They were disappearing and a blinding light was filling his vision. A moment later his scream was cut off and all he was left with was his thoughts.