Night Bus By Rick Sherman ![]() Click here to listen to this story on the Kaidankai Podcast. The bus drove down Wessling Street, right in front of my house, at exactly three twenty three in the morning. I had just come back from the bathroom and had glanced at the clock and was facing the window that looked out onto the street, so it was just totally random that I even saw it. It was an orange school bus, a short bus like the one Adam used to ride. Oh, god. Adam. And then I had to sit down on the edge of my bed because suddenly my legs couldn’t hold me up any more. He had gone missing three weeks ago and I hadn’t had a decent night's sleep since. I looked jealously at my wife, Marsha’s slumbering form under the comforter. She managed to be able to sleep thanks to copious amounts of pain pills and chardonnay. Her gentle snoring just reminded me of how much I missed sleep. And then, I thought again about that bus, because I finally realized how weird, how anomalous it was. Why was a school bus making its rounds at this time of night... morning,... whatever? At first I thought it was Adam’s bus but then realized there had been many subtle differences. For one, this bus had no words written on the sides. It was just blank, which was also weird. I lay back down, knowing it would be useless. I lay there staring at the ceiling and looked at the shadows of the trees on the ceiling. I told myself that I’d soon drift off, that the Ambien would kick in. Who was I kidding? I took that pill hours ago and here I lay, an exile from dreamland. Again. I just lay there in bed, a prisoner of insomnia. I let out a half forced yawn, tried to convince myself I felt sleepy. And I was, in fact I was exhausted. I closed my eyes. Yes, I felt it, sleep was on the way. What if he was kidnapped by sex traffickers? My eyes snapped open and sweat beaded my forehead. Oh my god, my poor beautiful little boy in the hands of deviant perverts, using him for, using him for… I jumped up out of bed and began to pace. Sleep was a distant stranger that night. The next night was a replay of the one before. I lay in bed trying not to let nightmare scenarios play out in my mind. Where was my boy? What cruel fate had befallen him? What was worse? That he had been murdered or that he was alive and being used for…for horrible things. The shadows on the curtain twisted and flexed as I stared at them. They curved and writhed and then, in my Ambien daze I thought they formed a face, fanged and gap eyed, staring at me, taunting me. Shot through with cold adrenalin needles, I jumped out of bed and began to pace. It had been like this every night since Adam’s disappearance and I had already accepted that a good night’s sleep might be a thing of the past. I noticed the time, it was three twenty three a.m.. Why did that seem significant? it nagged at me, but I couldn’t place it. Then I heard the rumbling of a diesel engine and I walked to the window. There it was. The school bus cruised down my street going along its route as if it were the morning before a school day. I used to wait with Adam every day for the bus. Maybe they’d find him? Maybe he was alright and the FBI would find his abductor. They would bring him back to us. I would again hold him in my arms. And I would never let go. I watched the bus cruise down the street on its ghostly late night, early morning promenade. I lay down and told myself I could fall asleep. That tonight would be different. It wasn’t. The following night I was ready for it. The night was pressing down on me, like a shroud, heavy and pervasive. I just lay there feeling the crush, the frustration, the helplessness. I noticed the time and jumped out of bed. Three twenty three. Silence. There was no bus. It had been a freak occurrence. And then I heard the rumble of the approaching engine and the damned thing drove right past my house. It was dark inside the bus, I couldn’t make out any passengers or even the driver. I lay back down, my thoughts consumed by this mystery vehicle. Where was it coming from? Where was it going? What was its agenda? Who was on it? Puzzling over the bus was a welcome distraction from my thoughts about my missing son. I realized this and in so doing, my thoughts returned to Adam. I pressed the pillow to my face and groaned into it. The bus continued to come every night at the same time. And each night I watched it pass. The reoccurrence momentarily distracting me from my morbid thoughts about my son. I looked a the slumbering form of my wife. She was gently snoozing and I felt a million miles away from her. We had hardly spoken in the last week. We were just two shadows sharing space with each other, I no longer felt the connection that had joined us so closely together. In so short of a time we had become like strangers. I watched her sleep and searched my heart for feelings for her. But my heart was a dead place. It had been ever since… I looked at the clock and realized I had three minutes. I found my self hurrying, throwing on my robe and slippers. I walked downstairs and out the front door. I sat on the stoop where I used to wait with Adam way back in another life. Adam. My boy. My sweet boy. I heard the approaching rumble and the bus rolled into view and I watched as it rolled to a stop in front of my house. It sat there, unmoving. And then I realized why. It was waiting. Waiting for me. I walked towards it in my sleep-spectered daze, everything seeming so unreal, like I was walking through a dream. The doors of the bus slipped open in front of me. I looked up at the driver. It was dark in the bus, darker than the night outside. The driver was a bulky figure painted in shadows, I couldn’t make out his (its?) features. But I understood what he was offering me. I stepped up the stair and into the bus. The shadowy, huddled figures sat there, quietly vibrating and chittering. There was a sound like the whisperings of locusts. The passengers were gazing at me. Welcoming me. I found an empty seat on the aisle and sat. The bus took off, driving into the night, taking me I knew not where. 💀💀💀 Rick Sherman (he/him) is a retired award winning Magician/Mentalist living in the manicured suburbs of Long Island, New York. Finding himself with a surfeit of free time he has turned to writing with increasing degrees of success. He lives with his wife and five children (only three of which have four legs and a tail). facebook.com/RickShermanMagi
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About the HostLinda Gould hosts the Kaidankai, a weekly blog and podcast of fiction read out loud that explores the entire world of ghosts and the supernatural. The stories are touching, scary, gruesome, funny, and heartwarming. New episodes every Wednesday. ArchivesCategories |