Counting Streets pt. 1
Author: astronomychica
Challenge: Bunny Tracks, Blueberry Yogurt: observations
Toppings: sprinkles
Extras:
Wordcount: 412
Rating: G
Story: Counting Streets
Summary: Seeing into the life of a young traveler and their observations of the people around them.
Notes: This is the beginning of my story, Counting Streets. The narrator notes the world around them, and attempts to delve into the minds of the people they see. I'm also making the main character ambiguous because as of yet, I have not thought of a gender for them.
When I am on the bus, I like to people watch. It is something to pass the time. People are so interesting, each carrying the weight of their world on their shoulders. Others not caring at all. I like watching the people who have given up the best. I want to ask them why, but I, like so many of them, feel like my world is my own, and that I should not get involved.
My journey begins on a Thursday afternoon. I am coming from downtown, I left work early again. I think my boss is starting to worry about me. As I board the nearly empty bus, I sit myself in a seat that faces inward, staring out into the world I left moments before, and I am immediately lurched sideways as the driver takes off again.
The woman across from me looks harried. I briefly overheard her conversation with her phone. It sounds like someone is in trouble again, and she is responsible.
"Hello?" the woman asks into her phone. She pauses slightly.
"Yes, this is Anita." Another pause. This one feels tense.
"No, I was not aware of..."
"Yes, I know that...."
"I understand. Thank you for calling." She hangs up the phone, and sighs.
"When is that boy ever going to learn?" I look out the window for a few moments. Anita begins calling someone else. She is speaking fast into the mouthpiece, barely drawing for breath or pausing to hear the person on the other line. Was she really talking to someone on the other side, or was she venting her frustration and pretending? For now, only Anita knows.
I turn back and stare out the window. The world is rushing past us, time speeding into the future, but it feels like us, the riders, are stuck in the past. As I stare blankly outside the confines of the bus, I notice we pass another street. That makes three since I got on. I always wonder how many streets one passes on the bus. Depending on the person, they could pass only a few, but others, like our driver, could pass hundreds. How many other people count the streets they leave behind? Does anyone think they will return to the street they left? Or was their trip a one way experience? There are many questions I have buzzing in my head. Some may never be answered and others, I may answer sooner than I once expected.
Challenge: Bunny Tracks, Blueberry Yogurt: observations
Toppings: sprinkles
Extras:
Wordcount: 412
Rating: G
Story: Counting Streets
Summary: Seeing into the life of a young traveler and their observations of the people around them.
Notes: This is the beginning of my story, Counting Streets. The narrator notes the world around them, and attempts to delve into the minds of the people they see. I'm also making the main character ambiguous because as of yet, I have not thought of a gender for them.
When I am on the bus, I like to people watch. It is something to pass the time. People are so interesting, each carrying the weight of their world on their shoulders. Others not caring at all. I like watching the people who have given up the best. I want to ask them why, but I, like so many of them, feel like my world is my own, and that I should not get involved.
My journey begins on a Thursday afternoon. I am coming from downtown, I left work early again. I think my boss is starting to worry about me. As I board the nearly empty bus, I sit myself in a seat that faces inward, staring out into the world I left moments before, and I am immediately lurched sideways as the driver takes off again.
The woman across from me looks harried. I briefly overheard her conversation with her phone. It sounds like someone is in trouble again, and she is responsible.
"Hello?" the woman asks into her phone. She pauses slightly.
"Yes, this is Anita." Another pause. This one feels tense.
"No, I was not aware of..."
"Yes, I know that...."
"I understand. Thank you for calling." She hangs up the phone, and sighs.
"When is that boy ever going to learn?" I look out the window for a few moments. Anita begins calling someone else. She is speaking fast into the mouthpiece, barely drawing for breath or pausing to hear the person on the other line. Was she really talking to someone on the other side, or was she venting her frustration and pretending? For now, only Anita knows.
I turn back and stare out the window. The world is rushing past us, time speeding into the future, but it feels like us, the riders, are stuck in the past. As I stare blankly outside the confines of the bus, I notice we pass another street. That makes three since I got on. I always wonder how many streets one passes on the bus. Depending on the person, they could pass only a few, but others, like our driver, could pass hundreds. How many other people count the streets they leave behind? Does anyone think they will return to the street they left? Or was their trip a one way experience? There are many questions I have buzzing in my head. Some may never be answered and others, I may answer sooner than I once expected.