Ian Holmes
Joined August 2017
0 stories
Stories (1/0)
Pegasus
“Kudrow? Where are we going?” I didn’t know. They wouldn’t say. Phil is next to me, his hands balled tightly in his lap. For some reason, despite everything, I’m worried he’ll wet himself. That’s what I’m worried about. The girl across from me won’t look at me. She’s scared too, obviously. She has to be. We all are. I can see her face through the small sliver of light that shine’s through the black tarp of that lines the windows. It makes everything dark, everything cold. I can feel the sting under me, of the cold seat. The others feel it too; they cringe with their knees up and shoulders tightly compressed. There must be twelve of us, sitting, at least, trying to keep still as the bus rocked.
By Ian Holmes7 years ago in Futurism