Writing for Fun
November 2017
The No. 17 Bus - Anna Browning
The bus bore down towards me through the pouring rain. I put my hand out and the bus slowly shuddered to a stop. The door slid open and I clambered aboard.
‘Good morning Ken.’ I presented my bus pass.
Ken grinned. ‘Good morning, Tess, ’what are you doing out in this awful weather?’
I laughed. ‘I know, Ken, I must be mad,’ as I made my way down the aisle towards the back row of seats.
Some of the gang were already there, Bob, Anne and Sue. ‘Hiya gang how are you all?’ They were my regular traveling mates, who met up daily on the no 17 bus to Southend. Geoff and Allen had still to get on at the Westcliff station bus stop. We exchanged gossip and juicy bits of scandal, giggling mischievously at the jokes and innuendos. They coloured our dull lonely lives giving each of us a momentary lift.
Geoff and Allen got on and called out to us, ‘Good morning gang, it is not going to be the same anymore without our Tess. She was the life and soul of the party. Are we all set to say our goodbyes to our Tess? Geoff waved his bunch of flowers in the air and placed them on my seat.
‘Poor Tess,’ they all muttered. ‘She did suffer but she’s at peace now. Wasn’t the service lovely?’
‘The hymns were the best. I do enjoy a good hymn,’ stated Bob.
‘I enjoyed the food best. Those egg sandwiches were delicious and the pork pies.’
They all nodded in agreement. ‘Still life goes on,’ said Anne. I stared at them in horror, realising they couldn’t see me. I would no longer be part of their daily bit of fun on the number 17 bus to Southend. I would sorely miss them!