Write What You See – Bus 

It’s fair to say that it has been a long time since I have written anything fictional. When you go that long without putting pen to paper the well of inspiration feels a little empty. However I’m a firm believer that you can mine inspiration out of just about anything.  

As soon as I decided to do this, I spotted a bus go past my window. So I used that to start a story. And here it is. Why don’t you give a go? No word limit! Post your links below with the title or the blog post ‘Write What You See – ‘ 

………….

The bus pulled up to the stop and Gray stumbled out onto the pavement. His phone dropped from his pocket and with a clatter landed on the wet concrete. On all fours he searched for the phone but it was dark and he was too drunk to see clearly. Gray stood up and lunged into the lamp post 

“fuck” 

Two girls linking arms under an umbrella tottered past, picking up speed and letting out a giggle as Gray battled with his wooziness. His feet felt unstable, the ground was moving side to side, up and down. Settling on a garden wall, he pressed the palm of his hands onto his knees in a bid to ground his body. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. 

“You l’right mate” 

Gray opened his eyes. A smartly dressed man with headphones round his neck, reached out and gently placed his hand on Gray’s shoulder. He was no longer sitting on the garden wall and there was a rotten stench in the air. 

“Where am I?” asked Gray

“What was that mate?” The man leant in closer

“Where am I?” 

The man shook his head “I can’t understand you. I’m calling an ambulance” 

Gray’s heart thumped, he still felt drunk. I didn’t drink that much, did I? 

He tried to get up but his legs were like jelly. He managed to move his eyes just enough to see that he was lying next to some dumpsters. Probably at the back of some flats. He wriggled his toes. His socks felt soggy.  

That’s good, thought Gray, I can feel something. 

“Where are my shoes?” Gray asked the man who was now on the phone. He couldn’t make out what he was saying. It was like listening to a conversation through a wall. 

“Don’t try and talk mate. They’re on their way” 

From nowhere the man produced a blanket and wrapped it round Gray. The warmth offered a crumb of comfort. 

Gray tried to focus his eyes again. A figure stood behind the man. It was possibly a woman from the infiltration of perfume overriding the smell of  decaying food. They were talking but Gray couldn’t make out what they were saying. That damn wall. 

Flashing blue lights and a siren made its way closer. Gray immediately felt foolish. Just another drunk. Even though he hadn’t drunk that much. What, four pints?

Gray wanted to close his eyes again. The tiredness was hard to fight and his body craved restorative rest. Suddenly all the questions from a lady in a green came at once, with lights and wires probing his body and mind.

What’s your name? Do you know how you got here? What have you taken? How much have you had to drink? What day is it? Who is the prime minister? What is your star sign? What’s 2 + 2? What is your mothers maiden name? 

His head felt like it was being pummelled with a giant steel bar, caving under the weight of  the questioning.  A bolt of lightening shot through his body, a bright light flashed a crossed his vision. Just some more sleep.

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