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The bus pulled to a halt, and I made a mad dash for the doors, trying to get as little rain on my new coat as possible. I clamored on the eerily empty bus and shook out my brigth red umbrella. I sat down in the seat right behind the bus, eyeing the brownish stains next to me. It kinda reminds me of dried ketchup or something…

“Hello.” The bus driver said to me as he pulled away from the curb.

“Hi.”

“Miss, do you like scary stories?”

“Depends.” I said with a small roll of my eyes. The driver looked to be a few years older then me, and he kept glancing at me in the mirror. That is probably the worst pickup line I’ve heard in a long time. I flashed my wedding band in the mirror when he looked again to let him know to cut the flirting out.

“Do you mind listening to one?” he asked me.

“Yeah, fine.” It’s not like I have anything better to do.

“This story is called The Man With The Blue Jacket. Not to long ago there was a man, say, 28 years old? He got on a bus much like this one, on a snowy night. It was Christmas Eve, and the bus was empty except for the man and the driver. He settled down and started dozing off, asking the driver to wake him when they got to 43rd street.” The driver stopped his story to open the doors at a train crossing, and then continued.

“He woke up to find the bus unmoving, and the driver looming over him with a mad twinkle in his eye. He gasped and the bus driver whispered, ‘43rd street.’ The man ran off the bus and started walking, not realizing that this wasn’t his stop at all. As he continued walking through the snow, he heard crunching footsteps behind him. But every time he looked back, there was nobody. He started to jog, not able to shake the feeling of being followed. He turned the corner and was suddenly stopped by a hand covering his mouth and a knee to the stomach.”

“Why didn’t this man check to see the name of the street he was getting off on?” I asked the bus driver. “And when will this story actually get scary?”

“Have you ever been terrified, and have no idea why? To the point when your blinded and confused, and the only thing you want is out? If you ever feel that fear, you’ll know exactly how this man felt.”

“Alright. It better be scary soon or I’m done with this.”

“As I was saying, he was dragged into the ally and shoved against the wall with his arms pinned behind him. He felt the point of a knife graze the hairs on the back of his neck, and the same whisper ‘Your going to die.’ He heard that whisper before, but where…? Then, slowly it dawned on him, it was the bus driver.”

“This story is so predictable.”

“Just be patient miss, it’ll get better.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“The man kicked and struggled, but he was a weak man. The bus driver grabbed him by his hair and dragged the knife down his jaw line, watching the blood trickle down the man’s face and on to his gloved hand. He stabbed the man in his left eye, listening to him scream in agony with a small smile dancing on his lips.”

“The bus driver proceeded to grab his left hand, and one by one slice his fingers clean off, only leaving his thumb attached. By now the man has stopped screaming and fainted with the rapid loss of blood. Because he couldn’t take pleasure in hearing his screams anymore he stabbed him over and over and over again in the stomach. He wiped the blade clean and placed it in the corpses right hand. He walked back a few blocks to the parked bus and started driving. The end”

“I’m sorry to say, but that was a really lame story. Here’s my stop, bye sir.” I said with another roll of my eyes.

“I never did catch your name, miss.” The bus driver called out as I stepped into the downpour.

“Layla.”

“Have a good night, Layla.”

I started walking down the sidewalk, holding tight to my red umbrella. That man was so creepy. Who would make the killer in a story have the same job as him? I turned around, expecting to see the bus fly past me on it’s way to the bus barn, but it wasn’t there. I stopped in the rain and strained my good ear to listen. Nothing. Except, I think I hear… footsteps?

I started walking again and when I went around a corner, I paused again. Yes, definitely footsteps. But wait, why are they going faster? Maybe I left my purse on the bus, and the driver is trying to give it back to me…? I looked around the corner, but saw nobody, even though the footsteps kept getting louder and faster. My breath started coming faster, and I felt like someone had me in their hand and was starting so slowly squeeze.

I broke into a run, throwing terrified glances over my shoulder. Of course, I fell and broke the heel off my shoe, so I yanked them off and continued running blindly through the rain. I felt strong arms wrap around my waist and tug me to a halt. Hands the size of bear paws pushed me down, hard, onto the pavement. I started franticly swinging my legs at the man, screaming and wondering why nobody was coming to rescue me. He grabbed my kicking feet and with one swift motion cut off my left foot. I let out a blood-curdling scream as the searing pain invaded my mind and body. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t feel, I just wanted to make it stop.

Then I heard that voice whisper, ‘Your going to die.’ And I knew that the story I was told wasn’t made up. My body started going numb, and I just couldn’t fight it anymore. He wrapped his hands around my neck and started squeezing. Everything started spinning, and all I could look at was the foot, my cut off foot, lying next to me. I knew this was the end as he picked up my bright red umbrella and shoved it down my throat.

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“Hello.” The bus driver said to his new passenger.

“Heyyy.” Darla chirped as she sat down in the empty bus.

“Do you like scary stories?”

“Heck ya I do, I just luv ‘em. Ya got any good ones?”

“As a matter of fact, I got a new one just a few days ago. It’s aout a girl with a bright red umbrella…”