The man takes a black scarf out and sniffs it before proceeding to cut the woman's throat, placing the scarf around her neck to catch the blood, then sticking his finger in her mouth, while smiling at Wilson through the rainy window, as if knowing they share a terrible secret.
The Night Bus
Wilson debates about whether or not he should call the police, but eventually reasons that perhaps it was just a gag, like a flash mob , or the other passengers on the bus had already attacked and subdued the man, allowing him the peace of mind to get out of the taxi and walk the rest of the way to his meeting in the rain.
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. Plot [ edit ] The main story follows a man named Wilson from Birmingham, Alabama who recently traveled by plane up to New York for an important business meeting with what is described as one of the top advertising firms of the Internet age, Market Forward. Stephen King. Bibliography Short fiction Unpublished and uncollected Awards and nominations.
Heroes for Hope American Vampire Book Category. Categories : short stories Short stories by Stephen King.
+ Short Travel Stories - Funny and Crazy Stories
If you intend to read just one story from this list, then I suggest please make it this one. This is all new to us. If you can call it a city. It is not a lot. We left everything behind. I had nothing to do with it. I had nothing. It was Azita; Azita had it all. Do you follow Rabih Alameddine on Twitter?
You must… everybody must. I descended the stairs to the living room and master bedroom. I had a strong urge to touch everything, my hands sweeping over marble, mahogany, satin, and velvet.
In the bedroom, I rubbed the wallpaper, my hand grazing the soft fabric in wide sweeps. I sat on the bed, caressed the pillow, lay my head down. I usually loved smelling the scents of my parents on their bed, but something here was peculiar. I smelled foreign cologne.
That Bus Is Another World
It was his room all right. I ran up the winding stairs, grabbed a washcloth from the bathroom, dropped my jeans, jumped onto my bed, and humped the soft fabric of the bedcover. Soft, rich, lush, it did not take long. I barely managed to cover my penis with the washcloth. Perhaps my fate was sealed when I sold my three-year-old sister. So the day after my seventh birthday party, where Missy did a song for everyone while I sat alone, my chin on my hand, and meditated behind my still uncut birthday cake, it seemed to me that here was a charming and beautiful little asset that I had no further use for and could be liquidated to good effect.
She has prizewinning breeding and good teeth. She will neither hook, kick, strike, nor bite you.
She is the pride and joy and greatest treasure of the Dickerson family and she is now available to you. Who will start the bidding for this future blue-ribbon winner? Fifty cents. I finally sold her for six dollars and twenty-five cents to a quiet girl up the street whose daddy was in oil. She was an only child, a thing I made her feel sorry about when the bidding slowed down at five bucks.
A young boy’s Bloomsday bus trip to the seaside doesn’t go to plan but still inpsires
You can barely manage movement in the big one-piece buba you borrowed from Comfort, your cousin, under duress. The off-the-shoulder neckline keeps slipping to your elbow, exposing your troublingly flat chest. This entertaining short story is the first published story by Wolff, about the friendship of three young men from different classes in first year college. Eugene was a scholarship boy.
One of his teachers had told him that he was too smart to be going to a regular high school and gave him a list of prep schools. He finally decided on Choate because only Choate had offered him a travel allowance. As the train came into Wallingford he asked me if I would be his roommate.
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It was surprising to see a short story all over the place. We have nothing. Out here, we have only ourselves. Click to share on Twitter Opens in new window Click to share on Facebook Opens in new window Click to share on Pocket Opens in new window Click to share on Instapaper Opens in new window Click to email this to a friend Opens in new window. Like this: Like Loading January 9, Categories: Fiction , Reading List. Post was not sent - check your email addresses! Sorry, your blog cannot share posts by email.