Single To City Centre

This is a story i wrote years ago, aged about seventeen, in reaction to the not sudden but still quick and unexpected death of my grandfather. Its about a little boy on a bus who sees something unusual involving an old man and two unusual strangers who b

Single To City Centre

 

Kyle Mars hated getting the bus to town, especially at night when it was so dark that the blackness pressed against the windows, as if it was a solid thing trying to break the glass and get in, to get to Kyle and take him away.
 Kyle really hated the dark.
Even on the number 15 bus to the City Centre, with all the street lights and houses that lined the route, even knowing that at the end he would see his dad and go for a meal and see a movie, Kyle hated getting the bus.
 He looked up at his mum, half dozing in the uncomfortable plastic chairs that lined the aisle.
 Her hair was starting to go grey at the temples, her face was rugged with wrinkles and lines that made her look older than her twenty six years.
 There was an air of perpetual tiredness about her that would act as the perfect advertisement to teens about the dangers of underage, unprotected sex; ‘don’t get pregnant in school, your kids will suck the youth out of you!’
 Of course, being five, Kyle didn’t quite word it like that in his head.
 As a five year old, his thoughts where more like ‘mum looks old’
 Across fro Kyle, his older brothers, Jack and Josh, the twins, knelt on their seats, their faces pressed to the window as they watched the world go by.
 The twins where nine and had the same ginger hair as their dad, the same jug ears and bad eye sight too. They both wore thick glasses that, as fa as Kyle was concerned, only made their prominent ears seem bigger and therefore, funnier.
 Sighing with a child’s boredom, Kyle twisted around in his sear to see who else was on the bus, travelling into Town;
 Occupying the seats in the tradition of super cool teens the world over, a cluster of  Barbie clones managed the miracle of holding at least six coherent conversations with one another while simultaneously text-ing their boyfriends, friends not travelling on the bus, their mothers and any one else in the stratosphere who had a mobile phone, all while chewing gum, all at the same time.
 This valuable and mysterious talent, Kyle knew, could only be performed by fourteen year old girls with bottle blonde hair that they straightened to razor points, and sun bed tans that made them glow in the dark.
They all wore what amounted to a uniform, the same floaty vest top, denim skirt and Ugg boots, just in varying colours, their hair and make up the same, identical but in different shades.
 Kyle watched the group for a few minutes until one of the girls noticed him staring and sneered, calling to her friends who all turned to glare at Kyle, laughing out loud as he hurriedly ducked behind his seat, his face burning as they called out to him. He looked over to Jack and Josh and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that they hadn’t witnessed his humiliation.
 Resisting the urge to hide behind him his mothers arm until the ride was over, Kyle leaned around the seat again.
 Sitting a few rows forward from the girl, a man about the same age as Kyle’s dad was sitting with his feet propped up on the seat so that his back faced the window.
 He looked as tired as Kyle’s mum and fidgeted with a packet of cigarettes as if the need to smoke them was soothed by just touching the box.
 His hair was greasy brown and there where shadows under his eyes that stood out against his pale, pasty skin. He had the telltale white earphones of an I-Pod in his ears and nodded his head slowly to the music he listened too.
Sitting nearer to Kyle, there was an old man, yellowed with age, hollow eyed and zobie like.
 Kyle stared at him with wide eyes, trying not to notice how loose the old mans clothes where, how the mans hands shook where they gripped the seat in front of him, how the man mumbled under his breath to himself.
 Kyle squinted, strained his ears in an effort to hear what the man was saying but the rumble of the bus and the inane chatter of the girls at the back made it impossible.
 Kyle found his attention drawn back to his brothers as they stopped staring out of the window and began to argue which football team was better, Liverpool or Everton.
Josh argued in favour of Everton, but Jack felt that Liverpool where the superior team.
 They had recently been allowed to use the word ‘crap’ and used it now as much as they could while still holding a halfway sensible conversation.
 The bus jerked as it pulled into a stop. Curious, Kyle stared beyond his brothers, peering out of the window.
 He couldn’t see anything he recognised.
 He couldn’t see anything at all.
 There was nothing outside the window, no street light, no houses, no passing cars, nothing. Kyle frowned, twisting in his seat to look out of the window beyond his mother.
It was the same, total pressing darkness without a single light to break it up.
“Mum-?” Kyle started, reaching out to pull on his mothers sleeve.
 The hiss-squeak of the doors opening interrupted him.
 He turned again, glancing at the other people on the bus as the doors stood open to the empty darkness outside.
 The girls at the back where completely captivated by one girls brand new phone, the young man in front of them seemed to have dozed off, and the twins where still arguing. Kyle’s mum was asleep too. The old man with the sunken eyes still stared, still muttered away.
 Kyle watched the open doors with apprehensive eyes, holding his breath, praying that the driver would realise that no body was getting on the bus, close the doors, and get as far away from this stop as possible.
 Then, almost as soon as Kyle had that thought two people stepped onto the bus.
 They stepped out of nothing, out of pure blackness onto the bus. It was as if the blackness was a thick curtain and they emerged from it, stepping between the gap like performers on a stage.
 They where pale, ethereally pale, their skin almost glowing in contrast with their jet black hair. The male of the pair was taller than his female companion, his hair curly and grown long enough to frame his face and dark green eyes. His eyes seemed sunken, shadowed, almost as if he was wearing dark make up, and even his lips seemed to be tinted, a hint of blue adding to his gothic appearance.
 The girl appeared to be wearing identical make up and had the same eyes, same black hair. Kyle knew some how that neither where actually wearing make up, that they just looked that way.
 The pair held up bus passes in black wallets for the driver to see, and wordlessly took seats behind the mumbling old man. The doors hissed closed again and the bus started moving. Kyle watched the windows and before long the normal street lights and silhouettes of houses came into view. He turned to stare at the new passengers and he wasn’t the only one; The blonde girls at the back of the bus where grinning cruel grins and Kyle felt he could practically hear the jibes and jokes lining up in their minds.
 The girl who had sneered at Kyle was the first to crack a line; “Oh my God! Happy Halloween or what?!” she squealed at the top of her lungs, reaching a pitch that could break glass.
 Her voice was nasally and heavily accented with the distinctive Liverpudlian twang. Her friends laughed them selves silly at her joke, adding their own comments and jibes “What do they think they look like?! I mean, do they own a mirror?!”
 “I know! I hate Goths, their dirty…Satan Worshippers!” one of the girls called out, laughing at the end to defuse any possible tension that could have arisen from the comment.
 The pair ignored the girls’ cat calls, leaning forwards in their seats so they where closer to the old man than was comfortable.
 The man didn’t seem to notice, staring into space as though nothing had changed.
Kyle’s mother had been jerked awake by the girls shouting and used the time to shush Josh and Jack then check up on the bus’s progress.
 Apparently satisfied, she sank back into her seat, her eyes drifting closed again.
 Kyle turned back to the odd pair, wary of the behaviour, ready to shake his mum awake if they started hassling the old man.
The boy, Kyle called him a boy because even though he looked about twenty, there was something about him that seemed very young, was leaning over the back of the empty seat, watching the old mans face. The girl was staring out of the window, a dreamy, faraway look on her face.
 The man with the I-pod was still dozing, only now he had turned so that he faced forward, his head slumped over onto one shoulder.
 Kyle looked back at the old man and the odd pair. The boy had moved forward a seat so that he was sitting next to the old man, and the girl was now looking at Kyle, an oddly mischievous grin on her lips.
 “Tony?” the pale boy asked suddenly, his voice soft, naturally horse “Tony Kelly?”
 The old man stopped mubling to himself and blinked rapidly, not quite acknowledging the boys enquiry.
 “Tony Kelly, used to have a horse and cart, worked out of the docks? Delivered packages, coal, anything to make money for his old mum? Rode with a fella named Bill O’Hare?” the boy had tucked his knee under himself so that he could look the old man in the face when he eventually turned.
Kyle watched, wondering if the boy genuinely recognised the old man, or if it was soe cruel joke.
 The man turned, slowly, painfully, his staring eyes wavering into focus as he looked the boy up and down. “I knew Billy, son. What if I did?” he asked, his voice no more than a painful croak in his throat that Kyle winced to hear.
 “I’m Michael O’Hare, this is my sister Gabrielle” he motioned to the girl who smiled politely as the old man, Tony, turned to look at her.
“We’re Billy’s grand kids” Michael explained.
 “Billy? He died years back son. You couldn’t be one of his” Tony replied a little uncertainly.
 “Of course we are. How do you think we know you?” Michael asked him “Billy, Granddad, he used to tell us the stories about the stuff you and him used to get up to…like when you both pinched your older brothers navy uniforms so you could get into the clubs and flirt with the girls!” Michael smiled as he spoke.
 “He told you about that did he?” Tony managed a small grin “How about the time we snuck into the yard after work and set the other teams ponies loose, so the next day when we all got to work…”
“You and granddad got all the delivery jobs, and a bonus for knowing how to keep your horse penned properly!” Michael finished for him and they laughed together.
Kyle felt him self smile as he watched the sad old man transform into a jovial story teller.
“Did your granddad ever tell you about fights we used to have? We’d find the biggest, drunkest, most loud mouthed bloke that we could, usually some southern pillock on leave, come up here to try and impress all the girls with his tattoos and his nancy accent. More often than not, some one who didn’t always know what ‘No Thanks’ meant, if you know what I mean. We’d get right up to him and get him riled up, ready for a fight, you know? And because we where both wiry little buggers, me and your old granddad, we’d get them outside and we’d have a gang of us waiting and we’d jump on him! All of him at once, and we’d teach him what happened if you didn’t know what ‘No thanks’ meant, or if we just didn’t like you thinking our girls where silly enough to fall for daft buggers with dafter accents and we’d usually pinch his wallet. We’d never hurt ‘em too badly mind, unless they really deserved it, and we always put the money under the church door, or through the letter box of some family who could use a few bob more than us” he trailed off, smiling sadly “We had good times, we did. We was good lads at heart” he looked down, the sad smile melting into a resigned frown.
 Kyle looked around the bus again, finding himself oddly please that no body else on board seemed to be aware of this quiet little reunion; the blonde girls where discussing hair and boyfriends, the riveting subjects more than enough of a distraction from the ‘Goths’ and their bizarre pale skin and un-straightened hair. The I-pod man looked like he was unconscious, snoring faintly as he slept. Jack and Josh where playing thumb wars, something Kyle knew for a fact could distract them for hours.
 His mother just dozed.
 He felt as though he was part of something secret, something special, and his quiet smile grew to a full toothed grin when the pale girl, Gabrielle, winked at him, put her fingers to her lips as if to say ‘shh, don’t tell’
As Tony went on with his stories, clearly happy just having anyone to talk to, let alone the relative of a lost friend, Kyle edged forwards in his seat to hear them better. He glanced out of the window in time to see that they had passed the city hospital and realised with dismay that soon the journey would be over and he would have to say good bye to Tony and his stories and his strange pale companions.
 The bus jerked as it braked to a halt and Kyle’s head snapped up to stare out of the window as the lights of the city disappeared again, to be replaced with that same solid blackness that the pair had first emerged from.
 Gabrielle stood, stretching her body, reaching her arms over her head to work the tension out of her muscles. As she did, Kyle noticed that her black, knee length winter coat seemed to sit oddly on her shoulders, as if it didn’t fit her back the way it should.
She caught Kyle staring and gave him another one of those secretive winks, smiling that mischievous smile again.
 “Tony, this is your stop” Michael was telling the old man.
“What?” Tony peered around “Are you sure son?” he stood shakily, Michael helping him to his feet.
 “Oh, I’m always sure Tony” Michael said, guiding the old man out into the walkway as the doors hiss-squeaked open.
 Kyle found himself holding his breath again, his hand creeping involuntarily towards his mothers sleeve.
“We’re going to meet Billy, Tony, he’s waiting for us in the Stag and Bull with Ed Rowe and Patrick Keeley” Michael explained as Tony hobbled along beside him, towards the door.
 “I was sure they tore the Stag and Bull down years ago. They put a Tesco supermarket where three hundred people used to live! And Ed and Patty passed son, I remember” Tony croaked, frowning in confusion.
 “No, you’re just a bit mixed up” Michael lay a hand on Tony’s shoulder and Kyle saw the man physically relax, his shoulders dropping, his frown turning to a grin.
  We’re meeting the lads at the Stag now, then we’re going to pop in on your mum. What are you like eh?” Michael grinned reassuringly, a warmth in his eyes.
 “I’ll forget my own head next” Tony chuckled.
As they walked past him, Kyle noticed that Michael’s coat didn’t fit quite right either, but he couldn’t put his finger on what made it sit so funny.
  Michael continued to talk Tony towards the door and for the first time, Kyle realised the blackness beyond the steps wasn’t quite so solid now. There seemed to be a light some where, something low and amber, like the lights in pubs, heavy with smoke and age. There was a noise too, the indistinct rumble of chatter that you found in a friendly pub when everyone was having a good time and talking to everyone else.
 Michael and Tony reached the door and as Michael helped the old man step down, Tony looked up and must have seen some one he knew. His mouth gaped, his eyes widened like saucers, surprise quickly turning to joy. Before Kyle could even react, Tony stepped off the bus into what ever lay waiting.
Michael turned to the driver, a grin brightening his face. “Thanks mate” he gave a nod almost like a bow and with a last look around the bus, he was gone.
 Kyle realised some one was standing in front of him and looked up into Gabrielle’s smiling face and those dark green eyes. She regarded him carefully, examining his face, then shook her head, grinning again. She walked to the door and stepped through and as her heel left the step, the amber light seemed to fade and the doors closed. The bus gave a lurch and set off, the lights of Liverpool filling the windows once again.
 Kyle stared at the floor where it had dropped, the thing that had fallen from under Gabrielle’s coat when she’d turned to walk away.
 Leaning slowly forwards, Kyle picked it up, surprised by how heavy and solid it seemed. He looked back to where Tony had been sitting and froze, fear and confusion paralysing him in his seat. The bus stopped again, only this time everyone rose to disembark. Kyle’s brothers ran off the bus, followed by the groggy I-pod man and the blonde girls, one of the squealing with laughter, loud enough to wake Kyle’s mum.
 Hurriedly, she pushed him out of his seat and pulled him off the bus after his brothers even as Kyle stared dumbly back into the bus.


   Stan Larkin, the bus driver glanced in his rear view and sighed.
 He’d noticed the sleeping mum and the guy with the earphones but at least they had woken up and gotten off the bus.
“City Centre mate?” he called out in case the old duffer was a bit deaf.
 The man didn’t move and cursing all pensioners, the driver let himself out of his cab and shuffled towards that sole occupied seat.
 “Mate? City Centre, time to get off” he repeated.
The old man still didn’t move and concerned, Stan stepped forward and shook the older man gently.
 He frowned and leaned forwards, pressing two fingers to the mans’ neck.  He felt nothing and cursed resignedly, crouching down to see the dead old mans face and gave a sad chuckle at what he saw.
 “At least you went out smiling mate” he told Tony Kelly, even though Tony Kelly wasn’t listening any more.


  Kyle sat up in bed later that night, the meal in town and movie he’d been looking forward to all week, nothing more than a blur of images and tastes in his memory. He had other things on his mind now.
 He wondered, where had that bus stopped when the odd pair had boarded, and when they had taken Tony off?
 Kyle turned the thing he had picked up over and over in his hands, marvelling at how it could be so heavy yet felt so soft.
 He wondered, how had he seen Tony sitting in seat when the bus finally reached the City Centre, even though he’d seen Tony step off the bus into the amber light with Michael and Gabrielle only minutes before?
 Kyle leaned close to the window, into the pool cast by the moon. He held the thing up, watching how the moon light reflected off the silver threads ran through the other wise pure whiteness of the rest of it.
He wondered if his idea about why the odd pair’s coats didn’t fit them properly was right, or if he was just dreaming it all up.
 He had seen ones like the thing at the park but they’d never been as strong, as pure as this.
Kyle wondered about what his mum had told ho once, when Dad’s brother Charlie died, something about Angels coming in person to guide you up to heaven when you die.
 Kyle looked at the feather in the moonlight and wondered.
 

Author's Note

i was sixteen when i wrote this and deeply mourning my beloved grandfather...thats not a request for sympathy its just a warning about grammar, spelling...