The Late Journey Home

It was late when I returned from London,  and it was a while before the bus arrived at the bus station. After a few minutes of waiting, the bus came. It was numbered 14A to Odd Down. A minute later, another bus came, with the same number. Since there was quite a number of passengers on the first bus, I opted for the second one. Only to find out – just in time – it was going the other direction.

The bus was supposed to be 14A to Weston, but the driver had set the display wrongly.

Myself and several other people had to get off the bus, and the bus driver told us to wait as he stopped the other 14A bus just as it was going out of the station. The other bus driver seemed rather pissed as he slammed on the accelerator right after we got in.

Everybody on the bus was silent as the driver hit the brakes, causing the tires to screech as he avoided an oncoming car, driving like a maniac. He swerved through the corners at high speed and the engine groaned loudly as the driver brought the bus uphill as fast as he can (the place where I live is very hilly). I breathed a sigh of relief after I got down at the bus stop.

From the bus stop, it was a five minutes walk to the house. It was nearly 10pm and it was very dark. The streets were illuminated sparingly with sodium streetlamps, and everything was basked in eerie orange.

As I was walking past one of the houses, I nearly received a shock as a cat suddenly appeared on the windowsill. It was fluffy and in daylight, cute but tonight that fur ball was just spooky. I thought it was just a figment of my imagination, but I solemnly swear it had its eyes on me. I saw its head turn as I walk down the street!

After that cat was out of sight, I saw another cat, crossing the road. Halfway through, I SWEAR it stopped and turned around and LOOKED at me before resuming crossing.

I was back home in one piece. Whilst locking the door once I was in, I couldn’t stop thinking, what was that!

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