Driver, By Michael Murdoch

I think the driver of the 26 is an alien, because it’s definitely not human.

I don’t like riding that bus line but it’s the cheapest way, and also the only way. Plus, this man goes where the coke flows. By which I mean Dave, he lives way out, another 25 minutes walk after I get off the bus, but that’s like drifting on clouds serenaded by angels compared to the ride out.

The moment those bus doors open I’m sweating, and not just like damn, it’s hot in this bitch, I’m talking those cold sweats you get when you know that you’re seconds away from being pinched.

That dread that lead lines your stomach, weighing you down, making it impossible to run.

I throw the cash at it and keep moving, no eye contact, just muttering without saying anything.

All the other passengers, or pod people, turn and stare at me as I walk down the aisle and plant my ass on the bench seat at the back.

It has taken them, body snatcher style. I can tell by the eyes, they are all just like the drivers, mirrors peering at me from every face.

I think it’s mind control vision. It never blinks, it’s always watching. And I swear once when I was alone on the bus with it, its head turned all the way around like a ventriloquist dummy, just to watch me.

But it won’t turn me into one of them. I won’t go without a fight, I’ll take it with me kicking and screaming into the depths of hell. Alien bitch.

I don’t normally sleep much, you might even use the word “insomniac”, but I blackout at the same time every trip. I never feel it coming, I’m alert one minute and then out the next.

I don’t know if it’s for seconds or minutes but I start feeling hot, and I wake up to my heart trying to birth itself from my chest; then the bugs start. I know its her, crawling under my skin, slowly at first but the closer they get to my brain the faster they become. The heat, the heart, the itch, it’s like a bad trip, and I would know, I’ve had a few.

Most times I make it off the bus in time to hurl; most times. When I don’t, it just stares at me with all those eyes and slams the door.

I laugh out loud to myself. I’m safe, until the next time I have to take the 26.

Check out Michael Murdoch’s site “The Twisting Tail” at

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