Terrorific Tales

Waiting

She sits and waits. She doesn't know what for, but something. Her gut tells her that if she just sits there and waits, something will happen. Something that will change the world forever. Something that she needs to witness.

Her gift, as her mother always called it, had never steered her wrong before. She'd always known things, things that she couldn't possibly have known. Things that hadn't happened yet, but would.

Despite the gloomy day, the hazy air, the rain that beat a steady rhythm on the plastic sheltering the bus stop, she sat and she waited. An old man got onto the bus the next time it came past her. He was stooped, requiring a cane to support his weight as he walked. His feet shuffled along on the pavement and then squeaked grotesquely as they moved across the vinyl floor of the bus. Behind him, a younger woman fought with a child to get on the bus. The child screamed as the mother attempted to maneuver several shopping bags and the toddler onto the narrow entrance platform.

Boredom began to get to her. She dug out a pen and paper and began to tally the number of people getting on and off the bus at this particular stop. She kept numbers for men, women, children, teenagers, the elderly and what she termed "weirdos."

The day passed. Her body was sore and stiff from sitting on the hard plastic bench all day. Her stomach growled.

The last bus of the day careened along. The brakes giving out from poor maintenance, overuse, and rain-slicked roads. She never saw it hit her, but the feeling that she needed to wait passed.