I decided to do something a little different and write a short story, as opposed to writing a piece of a novel.  Most of the novel pieces I have put up seem to mainly take up space because most people don't want to interact with them or comment on them.  This, I hope, will be different.  Instead of PART of a story, you will be getting the whole thing.  So if you haven't read my prior works due to length and a lack of focus, I hope this will change your mind.

I personally was rather fond of this piece once it was done.  It's called "42 Stories", but never fear... it's ONE story.  LOL.  It's a story that I hope will make a few people feel -something-.  I haven't written a short story for quite some time now, and when I as younger I tended to write them because I had difficulty with the 'middles' of novels.  I found out that stories this short are actually called 'flash' stories.  I wish I had the mindset to type something that could be officially called a short story, and so I was thinking that perhaps this could be one of those cases.  I'd be hard pressed to, however, because I'm rather fond of how this story runs, and I'm not sure how I could expound on it without causing the story to get redundant and then subtract from its purpose.

There is more I want to say, but I will do it AFTER the story so that I don't give it away.  So without further ado, here is a flash story I hope you will enjoy:



The steady thumping noise of the plastic bottle never ceased as it repeatedly rolled up and down the crowded bus aisle, changing direction every time the bus came to a stop or started moving again.  Up and down, up and down, it went largely unnoticed as the bus’s passengers were whisked away to their daily lives at each stop. 

*** 

Vance Murrey stood outside the tiny bus stop, tapping his foot and glancing at his watch.  The tick-tock, tick-tock was barely audible over the hustle and bustle of cars and people, but to Vance, the sound beat incessantly in his ears.  It was the sound of the bus approaching that finally caused him to break his eyes from the watch and look disdainfully in its direction. As Vance mounted the steps, it was apparent to Rob “Big Robbie” Myers that Murrey wasn’t in his typical joking mood. 

“Hey there, Murrey,” Big Robbie attempted from behind the wheel.  Instead of acknowledging Big Robbie’s greeting, Vance made his way over a variety of feet and bags until he reached a seat in the back.  He plopped down with an air that made his neighbor scoot aside to make room between them.  

Although Big Robbie was concerned for his passenger, he took his gaze off the rear-view mirror, closed the bus door, and stepped on the gas.  Maybe he’s just stressed out, he mused to himself.

Stress only began to describe what Vance was feeling, however.  As he kicked aside a bottle that had rolled against his foot, he let his thoughts wonder toward Meggie Sanders, his fiancée. 

He and Meggie had gotten into their first major argument that morning and things had been said, particularly by him, that shouldn’t have. 

“I don’t know why I bother!” he had yelled.  “You’re not worth it!”  The sound of the door slamming behind her kept on reverberating in his head as if it was a door slamming closed on his future with her.  Why hadn’t he stopped her and apologized? 

***

Pat Dylar hurried across her tidy living room as her telephone rang for the sixth or seventh time.  It had better not be a telemarketer, she thought gravely.  Who else would call me at this hour?  This wasn’t the first time she wished she had Caller ID. 

“Hello?  Is this Mrs. Dylar?” a raspy voice said on the other end.  Pat recognized the voice as her boss’s and could only wonder what she wanted at such an early hour on a Saturday. 

“Yes it is, Ms. Dant.  How may I help you?”  A short pause made Pat break out in a sweat.  Was it hard for Ms. Dant to say?  Was she about to be fired?  She knew she wouldn’t survive long if she lost the job she had worked so hard to get. “Well, you’re a hard worker and all,” Ms. Dant started in her odd voice, “but I don’t think you should keep your position any longer.”  Pat didn’t know what to say.  All her hard work!  “I’d like to promote you,” Ms. Dant added after another pause.”  Pat nearly dropped the phone in surprise.  “You’d have to go through training for six months,” Ms. Dant hurried as if afraid Pat wouldn’t accept, “but it’s a huge pay raise.  Are you interested?” 

“Yes, of course!” Pat laughed, anxious to get off the phone and tell her husband and three kids.  “I don’t know what to say!  Thank you!” 

“One more thing,” Ms. Dant interrupted.  “I have to interview you as soon as possible.  Could you be here in 45 minutes?”  Pat glanced at her watch. 

“Yes,” Pat said.  “I’ll catch the bus.” 

After telling her family, Pat left her apartment and walked to a bus stop.  She smiled when she saw a face behind the wheel that everybody loved. 

“Good morning, Big Robbie,” she said as she got on the bus with a spring in her step. 

*** 

As Maria Bolderick got on the bus with her white hair and creaky old staff, Bob Waron pulled his mustached lip back in a sneer.  It was people like her, he believed, who put the world in such bad shape.  Slowing the economy down with their pace, anybody with any type of disability always put Bob in a bad mood. 

Thinking about them made him grumpy, so he decided he wanted to stretch out and close his eyes.  However, a kid in the seat next to him prevented him from doing so. 

Kids shouldn’t be allowed either, he thought bitterly. 

“Hey kid, find somewhere else to plant your filthy rear,” he growled.  He managed to shove the kid out as the Mrs. Bolderick found a seat and the bus once again started rolling. 

Bob closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but Mrs. Bolderick’s loud bantering kept him from even pretending it. 

After letting his temper build up a bit, he grabbed a bottle from the floor in the aisle and tapped it against his open palm.  Right as he was about to throw it at her wiry wig, he thought better of it.  He wasn’t about to walk home if he got thrown off the bus.  He satisfied himself with thinking his bitter thoughts and beating it against the seat to disturb others. 

Nobody did much but glace at him, which wasn’t exciting, so he dropped the bottle back on the dirty floor and leaned back again.  He pointedly stuffed his ears with wads of paper from his pockets and closed his eyes.  Some people! he thought. 

*** 

Lindy Carpel huffed as she was shoved out of her seat by a middle aged man in shaggy clothes.  How rude! she thought.  She moved quickly to find a seat before ‘Mr. Robbie’, as she called him, saw her and assigned her a seat like the school bus drivers always did. 

Halfway up the aisle, a pretty woman sat to herself, so Lindy slid in the seat next to her and beamed her best smile.  Surely, this lady wouldn’t kick her out like the mean man had. 

“Hello. What’s your name?” the lady said in a pleasant voice. 

“My name’s Lindy, but you can call me Lin,” Lindy replied.  “What’s your name?” 

The pretty lady’s laughter sounded musical as she extended her hand and shook Lindy’s.  “Pat,” she said.  “My name is Pat Dylar and you can call me Pattie or whatever you like.”  

Lindy decided she like this woman.  “What are you doing on this bus all alone, Lin?” Pat asked with slight disapproval in her voice.  “Where’s your mother?”  

Lindy sighed and grimaced.  “I’m going to see her.  My parents don’t live together anymore and mommy is sick.  I haven’t even talked to her in years, but daddy thinks it will do her good to see me before she goes.  I don’t know where she’s going, but daddy says she is.”  The woman got that knowing look in her eyes that adults seldom get and children hate, and Lindy wanted to scream at her. 

“I’m sorry,” Pat said, and she sounded so sincere as she covered Lindy’s hand with her own, that Lindy actually believed her. 

*** 

Vance sat up straighter with the resolve that he would go home after work and make up to his fiancée in any way possible.  Yes, that is the right thing to do and the only way to go about making this situation better, he thought. 

Taking a look around, he was shocked to notice how full the bus had become while he had drifted in his own thoughts.  There were all sorts of people, some whom he knew, some he didn’t.  Talking buzzed in his ears and he wondered how many of the passengers had had a bad morning.  He laughed to himself.  What do the stories behind those faces mean to you? he thought. Vance peered past all the bags and feet in the aisle and through the front windshield.  The bus was traveling pretty fast along the highway and he estimated it was about another fifteen minutes before the bus would come to his stop.  Vance knew his calculations were correct as the bus approached the familiar stoplight.  However, Vance got the feeling that something was wrong.  The bus wasn’t slowing down.  Did Big Robbie not notice the red light?  A shout of warning rose in Vance’s throat. 

*** 

Big Robbie was enveloped in his thoughts.  He was thinking about a stranger he had never met.  The one who had saved his life. 

When Big Robbie was younger, he had been diagnosed with a disease that was slowly destroying his kidneys.  The doctors had told him he had less than a year to live unless he had a kidney transplant.  Months went by and oh how his parents had cried!  They grieved themselves endlessly as if it somehow were their fault that their boy was suffering.  However, one day, good news came.  There was a kidney, and he could have it.  Big Robbie had never laughed harder than that day. 

 His parents requested to know who the donor was and had thanked that person with many gifts, lots of appreciation, and a lasting friendship, but Big Robbie had never cared.  Until later.  Now, he constantly wondered why he hadn’t done more.  Why he hadn’t cared. 

Big Robbie snapped out of his reverie as the broad side of a bus suddenly blocked his view.  He snapped his foot down to the brake as quick as lightning, but the brake did not budge.  Horrified, Big Robbie heard what sounded like a plastic bottle under the brake.  It crunched under the pressure of his foot, but it would not give way. 

*** 

Vance’s fiancée fainted when she answered her phone. 

After Pat didn’t show up, Ms. Dant called her home phone, but she only got a hold of Mr. Dylar, who hadn’t heard from his wife. 

Maria Bolderick never used her staff again. 

Nobody cried for Bob Waron. 

Lindy’s mother died without seeing her daughter. 

Big Robbie never learned the name of his donor. 

42 stories were lost forever. 

*** 

The steady thumping noise of the plastic bottle never ceased as it repeatedly rolled up and down the crowded bus aisle, changing direction every time the bus came to a stop or started moving again.  Up and down, up and down, it went largely unnoticed as the bus’s passengers were whisked away to their daily lives at each stop. 


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Alright, so here is one of my fears:  I could always increase the story's length by adding more people, but then it would almost deem the story pointless, I think.  See, my original idea as I was writing (I never pre-conceive a story.  I invent it as I go) was that these people would get on the bus with nothing in common, and that something would draw them together.  Unfortunately, what drew them together ended up being death.  LOL

It wasn't meant to be morbid.  Instead, it was meant to show that you never know what's going on behind a stranger's face.  Every person you pass by has a story, and you'll never know that story.  I mean, to me it is just awe-invoking, the number of stories out there.  Even if you think your own is a big one, there's always a larger and more astonishing one.

So, as you can tell, I like 'surprise' endings, or endings that have an impact. I don't now if I made an impact with this one, but I hope the ending wasn't something foreseeable.  If it was, I hope the story was still enjoyable.

My other fear is that people will think the lesson is 'don't litter'.  I am not and never will be a tree hugger. LOL  Instead, I chose the small bottle because I also wanted to bring home how something SOOO small and SOOOO insignificant could have such a HUGE impact.  I think one thing I'd like to do, at the very least, is go back and make sure EACH person has some kind of interaction with the bottle (like Waron tapping it on the back of the bus seat.)

So are there any suggestions on how to make this story better?  Did anyone like it?  Even if you disliked it, I'd love to know. I take criticism well because I view it as a chance to improve.

(By the way, why, if I type my story in notepad and copy paste it here, is the word count wrong?  I've noticed that always happens, and it always makes me think I didn't copy paste the whole thing in or something.)

Also, if there are any requests, I will gladly write some more.  They are no longer my forte and I prefer to work on novels, but what's the harm, right?