Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. At the Bus Station by Jack Ivey (best new books to read TXT) 📖
- Author: Jack Ivey
Book online «At the Bus Station by Jack Ivey (best new books to read TXT) 📖». Author Jack Ivey
At The Bus Station
I've never particularly cared for bus stops too much, but here I am, sitting on a hard plastic bench waiting for my buddy, Jim. These places always give me the creeps, especially at night time, but this is the only bus we could catch for the convention we are attending. I wanted to fly, but Jim is afraid of flying so I agreed to take the bus with him. A quick glance at my watch reveals its 10:15 pm; our bus departs at 11:00. I hope he gets here soon.
It always seems to be a seedy group at bus stations, though I am sure they are all very nice people; you really can’t tell by looking at them. It’s hard to tell the travelers from the vagrants that frequent these places, looking for some shelter from the weather, and the rain tonight has brought them out in droves. I grab the newspaper on the seat beside me and flip through…of course the sports section is missing. My foot is stuck to a piece of gum on the floor and this place smells like a mix of cheap perfume and diesel fuel - the exhaust fumes are a bit overbearing.
I look around and still no Jim. It's 10:25 and the bus will start loading in five minutes. I decide that since I’ll be on it for a couple of hours, this might be a good a time to use the rest room. The only thing that smells worse than a bus station is a bus station rest room. I grab my pack and follow the signs - even the door is disgusting. I enter and suddenly feel something sharp in my back.
"Give me your wallet or I’ll cut you,” I hear as I am grabbed from behind.
“You don’t want to do this,” I offer calmly as I can now feel the point of the blade finding its way through my jacket. Once more I offer, "You really do not want to do this."
I walk out and there is my buddy Jim waving me over.
“There you are, come on, it’s time to board,” he says. “We don’t want to miss it, this is the big one, the National Karate Convention and everyone knows that you are the main attraction.”
“Not everyone,” I answer as we make our way to our bus.
Text: Jack Ivey
Editing: Valerie Byron
Publication Date: 12-15-2012
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