The Last Bus

"Such a dreary night !" I thought while a cold breeze passed through my face. I was waiting at the bus stop to catch the last bus to my home. It is my daily routine to go home at this time. I was traveling alone that night. There were hardly 8-9 passengers. They were all engrossed in the Television which was playing old Punjabi songs.

I'm always clueless about where am I heading. Yes, I don't know where my home is. I board different buses every night to find my town, my home. 

But that night was different. I knew where my home was. I eagerly wanted to reach there. I saw the moon following the bus from outside. It seemed cold and sad, without any company. I'm not a "window lover" kind of traveler. I enjoy observing people, and their activities by sitting in the corner of the room. But that night I was just not interested.

Bus reached the intersection of four roads. I saw a truck coming from the opposite side of my window. Then it was all blank.

 I was feeling like I had just woken up from a long dreadful dream. I saw that window's glass was shattered and destroyed from my side. There was blood on my hands, on my waist. Everyone was giving me scared look. It was the time when I realized I was never going to reach home. 

From that day I spend my days mostly in the woods. I don't need food so I don't go near the shops. But during the night I feel unable to control my urge to go home. So, I board the last bus from the same stop every night.

"Yes! People can't see where I am! "