Story Battle!

BLACKNESS: A short story by Rogue Moments of silence, having no idea what just happened, Lenina sat nervously in her bus seat, biting her lips. The jolt had shaken her and she held her head in shock looking down through her straight dark brown hair. One of the other two passengers in the almost deserted bus stood up. The tall, young, black woman, anxiously running her fingers through her long, braided hair said shakily "What was that?!" The driver got his fat, lumpy self out of the driver's seat and leaned on the first seat saying "A big pot hole or bump maybe?" "That could not have been a pothole!" said the black woman, "I thought I felt myself thrown out of my seat and I somehow ended up right back where I was!" The third passenger interjected at this point, "It doesn't matter what happened, let's just get where we need to go." He was a short, young, asian man with glasses who seemed a very organized, sensible person with his button-up shirt, dress pants, and briefcase. "We can't," said the driver as he ran his chubby fingers through his greasy brown hair, "I cannot see a thing outside. The headlights are on but it just looks like continuous blackness. I can't drive if I can't see where I'm going." This alerted Lenina. She scooted over in her seat to look out the window. Nothing. Just blackness. It was night, but there was no moon, stars, streetlights, just black. Frightened, Lenina let out a little scared moan. "Oh! I forgot you were there honey!" the black woman walked over to Lenina and put her arms around her, "It's alright, we're ok, we'll get home," obviously sensitive that Lenina was the youngest of the group. "I wouldn't be so sure," said the asian man ominously, "This blackness is not normal." "Well what do you suppose we do then?" said the black woman who was clearly annoyed. "I would like to know why we can't see anything. I going to go outside the bus," said the asian man. Lenina felt it was too quiet. It wasn't the blackness that was bothering her, it was the silence. She realized she hadn't heard a voice for nearly five minutes. Never had it been so quiet in her mind for so long. "Don't!" Lenina cried out, distressed, "There is something wrong with this place!" "Is there something you know that we don't?" said the asian man as they all turned round to look at her inquisitively. "If I tell you, you'll just think I'm crazy. I mean I am crazy. But that makes it even more strange," said Lenina. "Fvcking amazing. I'm stuck on a bus with a should-be inpatient," said the bus driver caustically. "Shut up you aren't helping," said the black woman. "What's going on?" she said empathetically to Lenina. "I'm crazy, I know I am. I am a diagnosed schizo. When I was younger I used to think that the voices I heard in my head were passing spirits that hadn't moved on. I thought they traveled the world endlessly and that I could hear their thoughts when they passed by me. They all had different voices but I heard at least ten every minute. It has been this way all my life. Now suddenly I can't hear anyone. I haven't since the bump. My disease doesn't just leave," said Lenina. "Is it possible you hit your head during the bump and that...fixed...everything?" said the asian man. "It doesn't work like that," said Lenina. "Well we have to do something," said the black woman urgently. "I'll use my cell phone to call for help," said the asian man. They all waited patiently as he took out his phone and fiddled with it. "No service," he said, disheartened. The rest took out their phones and found the same difficulty. "Well, what do we do?" said the black woman, clearly hiding her fear to help keep the situation under control. "I still say someone goes outside the bus. Maybe we have service out there," said the asian man. "I don't think that's a good idea," said the black woman cautiously, "We can't see a thing." "We can't just sit in here and do nothing," said the asian man, frustrated. "We can wait until help comes," said the black woman assuredly. "That will be hours, maybe days!" exclaimed the asian man, "I have a project to finish and a deal to finalize. I'm going out there." He walked over to the door and opened it. Cautiously he stuck his hand out first. As it went past the door, it disappeared from sight. Startled by this occurrence, he quickly closed the door and went back to his seat, his face a mixture of shame and fear. Silence. The driver stood up. "Fvck this. I am not sitting in here with you all, too scared to take action. I am going outside and contacting someone. You are all a bunch of superstitious freaks," said the bus driver. The other three gathered around the window next to the door to see if they could see him walk away from the bus. His body was quickly enveloped by blackness as it passed the steps of the bus, as if there was a wall of blackness that swallowed him up. Outside they could see nothing. Worried, the black woman called to him, "Driver! Hey! Can you hear us?! We can't see you!", she paused, "Driver?! Please respond!" Nothing. They sat down slowly, terrified and confused. "He's gone. What do we do now?" said the black woman, looking around anxiously. "What can we do besides wait?" said the asian man hopelessly. In the hospital, Nurse Brown urgently pushed four gurneys down the hallway of the hospital. Doctor Fitzpatrick strode along beside her in his emergency mode. "What happened?" said the doctor. "Bus crash," replied the nurse. "Three passengers and a driver. The driver died during his transportation to the hospital. The asian man and the black woman are comatose. The only passenger that seems fairly unharmed is a young girl. Just a few scratches. But we've had to strap her down. She won't stop talking and trying to move around. She is completely unaware of her surroundings, but there seems to be no reason for her apparent psychosis. She is having conversations with herself." The doctor walked beside the young girl trying to listen to what she was saying: "Driver?! Please respond! He's gone. What do we do now? What else can we do but wait?"