December 22, 2009
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It is a cold morning, just like all of the others in the month of December. A white layer of snow covers the ground like a bleached cookie sheet. I can feel my face go numb as the cold air whips against my bare skin relentlessly. I see a figure standing far in the distance; obscured by the falling snow, he is impossible to identify. He is slowly getting closer, and as he approaches, his shape grows massively in size. I try to ignore him and wait calmly for the bus, letting my thoughts drift into the grey, clouded sky.

The 415 bus pulls up shortly, I look back to locate the man, but he is nowhere to be found. A chill runs down my spine as I slowly realize that the man is standing directly behind me. I can feel his warm breath like steam pouring from the mouth of a cauldron gently caress the back of my bare neck. He whispers in a chilling voice,
“It’s time to get on board.”
I mechanically step forward, but not my choice; my legs are being moved as if I were a puppet. Helplessly, I struggle to regain control of my limbs; I find there is no use and reluctantly give up giving into this sick torture. My legs direct me to seat seven, and the man promptly sits down at my side me. I struggle to find words.
“Wha- what are you doing to me?”
It came out as nothing more than a dull whisper barely heard of the roar of the engine as the bus slides forward, slowing gaining speed. There is no turning back; I am trapped on this bus ride to my demise. This man and I are the only two riding the bus, and everywhere around us is nothing but darkness. I can feel it creeping into my body and tearing at the edges of my soul to shreds.
“I am the puppet master,” the rumbling voice seems to shake the bus with every word, “and you are my new toy.” My legs involuntarily bring me to my feet and walk me towards the driver. I can feel my hand reach into my pocket to pull out something glimmering and cold as the snow on the ground. It was a long, sharp blade that must have been slipped into my pocket while I was zoning out. My arms rise and bring it against the driver’s neck; he seems to be under the same spell as myself. Then, suddenly with one swift movement, a man’s life ends. I feel the bus start to helplessly turn left, yet my body stay unmoved. The dead man’s weight shifts to his leg on the gas pedal, making our speed increase tenfold. The puppet master is laughing violently, for he knows the end of my tale. It has been written, I am dying today.
The bus crosses lanes and turns off the road into an endless forest of oak trees. The speedometer reads 98 and the front of the bus crumbles like a gum wrapper around the trunk of a massive bleach white tree. I feel my body fly backwards on impact, hitting the ground with a harsh thud. My hearing fades, shortly following my vision only hearing the insane laughter of a crazy man. Then, everything stops; everything is silent and fades to darkness...


A man standing 6 feet 3 inches effortlessly steps down from the emergency exit at the rear of the bus. His long, black hair left uncut, just like his massive beard cover his face. As well as the collar of his trench coat covers his face; he is unrecognizable. His hiking boots leave fresh prints in the smooth layer of snow, as well as the new dummy that he drags behind him. This dummy looks oddly familiar…


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