Vow

Vow

 A man got on a city bus. He always enjoyed the slow ride past the countryside after he’d finished with business. After a long day, he was ready to see his wife again. Business had lasted longer than usual.

He handed the driver his change and took a seat at the very back of the bus. He couldn’t wait to get out of his business suit. From his coat jacket, he pulled out a pair of headphones.

Ten songs. That’s how many he normally went through before he was home. After the seventh, the bus exited the “downtown” section, and into the rural area, where it traveled a long, straight country road for the last three songs. Outside, the wheat fields blew solemnly in the breeze. All the people on the bus avoided eye contact with one another at all costs, especially the young businessman. He just stared out the window.

After the twelfth song, the man became confused. Normally he would be home at this point, but when he gazed out into the distance, all he saw was continuing rows of golden yellow wheat. Looking down, he put away his headphones.

When he looked back up, the crowded and silent bus hushed a stare over him. All at once, the entire world this bus cradled was gazing up at the man. Not a word was uttered, but their eyes seemed to speak in all manner of voices. For a moment, the man simply sat still, petrified.

Then, in a trembling insecurity, he asked what they were looking at. His response was a continual dead glare from every breathing person. For some moments, not one soul moved. The man wiped his brow. The small beads of sweat rolled and dug into and under his eyelids. He blinked.

Then there was no one. Just empty seats, and the bus driver, caressing the wheel in front of him. The man got up from his seat, and, wandering to the front, noticed that there were no more wheat fields. There was no more anything. Outside, it was a thick grey fog, like a brick wall of visual stimulus.

The man reached the driver and  tapped him on the shoulder; in a shaking voice, he asked what was happening. The driver said nothing, only staring ahead, emotionless and breathless. He asked again. The bus driver turned to the man, slowly, and slid open his molasses jaw, releasing a moan of despair that reverberated off the plastic window panes.

When the noise ended, the driver turned to stone, his muscles stuck in a frozen loop. The man fell backwards, catching a glimpse of the black hole in the left side of the driver’s chest. It was there that nothing existed. No organs, or blood, or colour.

The man got back on his feet, quickly sitting on one of the many empty seats, catching his breath for some brief reprieve. He shut his eyes tight, then tighter, hoping, praying that none of this was real. When he opened them again, nothing had changed, except for the woman sitting across the aisle from him.

The sound of her voice was mellifluous, a smooth jazz that swept through the scene.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

The man looked at her, relieved to see someone that seemed normal. From teary eyes, he gazed at her in dismay. He wiped away the watery lens, and saw the woman through clearer vision. She was tall, wearing red high heels and a dark blue summer dress. Her hair floated down upon her shoulders in a golden blonde cascade. Her cherry red lips glistened against the background of the fog pressed window. Her deep blue eyes pierced through any discomfort the man felt.

“Do you know what’s happening?” he asked.

Again she inquired, in a lifeless, comfortable voice, “Where are you going?”

The man stood up from his seat, gingerly making his way across the aisle, sitting down beside the woman.

“Are you okay? What’s happening?” he begged.

She stared at him with indifference.

"Do you love your wife?” she asked with an uncanny nonchalance.

When she spoke, the man could hardly focus. Those ruby red lips seemed so soft covered in that bright lipstick. They beckoned him with every word. Those heavy blue eyes swathed him in a cold warmth that made him both relaxed and unequivocally stressed. Spiraling down into those eyes, the man was pulled into a trance, until woken by one eye losing its focus.

The right eye floated ever-slowly to the left, like a beach ball being shoved by gentle waves of water into the open sea, until that beautiful blue was no longer visible. The man sat back in his seat, unconsciously holding his breath. Then, a crack.

Both of her legs bent forwards in a ninety degree angle. The left came first, followed by the right only seconds later. The man jumped back, staring in horror at what was occurring before his eyes. Another lurching crack. The bone of her calves split back through the muscle above her heels. What came next was more of a clunk, as her pig-tail legs became disjointed, freeing themselves from the constrictions of her hips, curling themselves around her waist with every broken bone and torn muscle, until they covered the entire circumference of the bottom of her torso.

Her arms wrapped around her breasts, as the skin melted and melded with her body until the limbs had become one with her chest.

The blue in her left pupil dripped like a paint being washed away on a rainy day, and her lipstick became a hot, thick wax, sizzling away at her mouth.

Without gaining any emotion or fear, she asked, “Do you love your wife?”

Without thinking, the man answered, “Of course, of course!”

He fell to his knees, covering his ears with the palms of his hands and squeezing his eyelids shut. The world came to a stop. When he opened his eyes again, he was no longer on the bus.

He was home, facing the steps to the red door of his house. His wife awaited him on the porch. He ran to her with open arms. He avoided contact with her beady brown eyes and bent down to rest his head on her low-set shoulder, grasping the back of her head so the short cut black hair wouldn’t hit his face. He would never tell her of what happened that day.

As they went inside, neither of them noticed the condom drop from the man’s coat pocket.