The automatic doors of the office building hissed open, unleashing Sierra into a cityscape already swallowed by the inky maw of night. Above, bruised clouds hung heavy, mirroring the tempest brewing in her soul.
Another day, another Herculean effort to single-handedly prop up the entire department, all thanks to her boss's spawn-of-Satan niece – a creature whose primary skill involved weaponizing nepotism to offload her workload onto anyone foolish enough to be within earshot. While Sierra wrestled with spreadsheets and deadlines, the little tyrant was likely binging C-dramas or racking up credit card debt on designer handbags, all from the comfort of her ergonomic office chair.
Sierra's phone buzzed, a digital harbinger of doom. Another job application, another polite but firm "no thank you." Her finger hovered over the 'resign' button, a fantasy she indulged daily, but the stack of rejection emails served as a stark reminder: she was trapped. Trapped in a corporate purgatory where complaining earned her a pay cut and a permanent bullseye on her back.
A sigh escaped her lips, a visible puff of vapor in the crisp night air. "Great," she muttered, "I'm starting to think my resume is printed on toilet paper."
The bus, a lumbering metal beast, pulled up to the curb, its doors hissing an invitation to escape. Sierra bolted, a desperate sprint fueled by the promise of warmth and oblivion. She scrambled aboard, fumbling for her fare card, when a small, unyielding object collided with her shin.
A tiny human, no taller than her knee, bounced off her leg and landed on her bottom with a cheerful thump. The culprit, a cherubic girl with wide, innocent eyes, merely giggled.
"Oopsie! Sorry, Aunty!"
Aunty?! I'm twenty-four! I'm practically a fetus! Do I look like I knit doilies and collect porcelain cats?
Sierra's eye twitched. The indignity of being aged into oblivion by a pint-sized human was just the cherry on top of her dumpster fire of a day.
"Elena Yan, you menace! How many times has Brother told you not to reenact the Running of the Bulls on public transport?!"
A young man's voice, laced with exasperation, cut through Sierra's internal monologue about her premature fossilization.
Sierra looked up, her gaze landing on the source of the reprimand. He looked like he'd just rolled out of a college lecture – all artfully disheveled hair and earnest eyes – but currently, his gentle features were contorted into a stern mask, fixed on the giggling culprit. He patted the empty seat beside him, a silent command.
Before Sierra could even offer a helping hand, the tiny human, Elena, sprang to her feet with the agility of a seasoned gymnast. She dusted off her dress with a flourish, then, with a defiant flick of her pigtails, scampered towards the young man. She plonked herself down beside him, sticking her tongue out in a gesture of pure, unadulterated childish rebellion.
"Brother, you're no fun," Elena declared, as if stating a universal truth.
The young man sighed, running a hand through his hair. He offered Sierra a sheepish, apologetic nod. "My sincerest apologies for my sister's... exuberance."
Sierra waved a dismissive hand. "It's fine, really. She said sorry, which is more than I can say for some adults I know." She thought of her boss's niece and suppressed a shudder.
Finally locating her bus card, Sierra tapped it with a satisfying beep and began her quest for an empty seat. The bus was surprisingly sparse; Elena and her brother occupied a front row, leaving a vast expanse of vacant upholstery. Sierra gravitated towards the second-to-last row, collapsing onto the worn fabric with a sigh of relief.
Just as she settled in, a flurry of movement at the entrance caught her eye. A high schooler, still in his uniform, bounded onto the bus, swiped his card, and promptly plopped himself into the seat directly in front of her.
The rhythmic hum of the engine, combined with the day's accumulated exhaustion, began to weigh heavily on Sierra's eyelids. The last few nights had been a blur of spreadsheets and caffeine, turning her apartment into a second office. Sleep, it seemed, was a luxury she could no longer afford.
Sierra's intention was to rest her eyes for a fleeting moment, a mere blink in the grand scheme of her exhausting day. Instead, she jolted awake what felt like an hour later, a thin trail of drool escaping the corner of her mouth. Wiping it away with the back of her hand, she blinked, trying to reorient herself.
The bus had gained another passenger. In the row behind the sibling duo, a woman now occupied a seat. Sierra couldn't quite make out her features, but the silhouette was undeniably striking—long, flowing hair, a hint of a sharp jawline, and an outfit that screamed 'night out' rather than 'bus ride home'. A daring mini-dress, barely contained by a flimsy cardigan, suggested either immense confidence or a complete disregard for the plummeting night temperatures.
Deciding it was best not to stare, Sierra averted her gaze, pulling out her phone, scrolling aimlessly. Her boredom, however, was soon interrupted by a soft, almost conspiratorial chuckle emanating from the seat directly in front of her. The high schooler, still engrossed in what looked like a textbook, was muttering to himself.
"Hehehe... just as I suspected... my brain cells activate at precisely this hour. My cognitive functions achieve peak performance when the moon is high... I'm clearly not of this mundane world. I must be the progeny of an ancient, nocturnal lineage... perhaps a shadow-walker, or a descendant of the moon elves!"
Sierra's phone nearly slipped from her grasp.
Oh, dear lord. A wild chuunibyou* in its natural habitat.
*chuunibyou: a condition of young teenagers who have delusions of grandeur, where they believe themselves to have hidden knowledge or secret powers.
The kid was probably fifteen, maybe sixteen. Prime age for believing he possessed latent superpowers and a destiny far grander than algebra homework.
And here I thought this particular brand of theatrical self-importance peaked around middle school. Please, for the love of all that is holy, don't let him decide he's a vampire and I'm his fated, unsuspecting prey. I've had enough drama for one day without adding delusional stalkers to the mix.
A quiet snort escaped her, quickly stifled behind her hand. The sheer, unadulterated absurdity of it all was almost enough to make her forget her own miserable existence. Almost.
Sierra, feigning engrossment in her phone, was trying desperately to ignore the budding supernatural phenomenon in the seat ahead. Her efforts were abruptly thwarted when the bus lights, with a theatrical flicker, plunged them into near darkness. The city's neon glow, usually a distant hum, now bled in through the windows, painting the interior in an eerie, shifting palette of oranges and blues.
A collective gasp rippled through the bus, followed by a cacophony of nervous murmurs. "Did the light just die?" someone fretted. "Brother, I'm scared!" Elena's small voice wailed.
From the seat in front, a hushed, yet perfectly audible, whisper drifted back to Sierra. "My sigh... it was merely a prelude. The darkness descends, a testament to my burgeoning power. The awakening begins!"
Sierra bit the inside of her cheek, a snort threatening to escape.
For crying out loud. The lights go out, and he thinks he's Magneto.
Then, a new voice, thick with a terror that cut through the lingering panic, instantly silenced the bus.
"Oh my, something's terribly wrong..."
Every head swiveled towards the front, the dim, flickering streetlights outside casting the driver's face in a ghastly pallor. His eyes, wide with genuine fear, darted frantically between the road and the unresponsive controls.
"This bus... it's running on its own! I can't control it!" he shrieked, his voice cracking.
A beat of stunned silence, then pandemonium. Screams erupted, a primal chorus of fear. And as if on cue, the bus lurched forward, accelerating with a terrifying, unholy speed that pressed everyone back into their seats. The world outside became a blur, streetlights streaking past like frantic fireflies.
"This is like a horror movie!" the sexy woman cried out, her voice surprisingly high-pitched. "Is this bus being controlled by a ghost?!" In a bizarre display of fight-or-flight, she brandished one of her stiletto heels like a makeshift weapon, ready to ward off any spectral assailants.
Elena's sobs grew louder, her brother's frantic reassurances doing little to quell her fear, his own voice trembling. Meanwhile, the chuunibyou high schooler, eyes squeezed shut, began to chant, a rapid-fire litany of what sounded suspiciously like incantations from a fantasy novel, as if genuinely attempting to summon some fantastical power to halt their runaway vehicle.
A cold dread seized Sierra, a silent, paralyzing panic that locked her muscles rigid. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the seat in front of her, anchoring herself against the violent lurches and swerves of the runaway bus. She was the kind of person whose fear manifested not in screams, but in an eerie, almost catatonic stillness. On the outside, she appeared unnervingly calm, but inside, her nerves screamed, a taut wire stretched to its breaking point.
She yearned to squeeze her eyes shut, to retreat into the comforting delusion that this was all a nightmare. But a morbid curiosity, or perhaps a desperate need to understand, compelled her to peek through half-closed lids. Her gaze flickered to the window, and what she saw sent a fresh wave of icy terror coursing through her veins.
Other vehicles, cars, trucks, even pedestrians – they weren't just being passed; they were being phased through. The bus, their metal coffin, was gliding through solid objects as if they were mere illusions, spectral wisps of reality. No wonder they hadn't collided; they weren't truly there.
A guttural gasp caught in her throat, a realization so profound, so utterly impossible, that it threatened to shatter her sanity.
Before she could fully process this impossible phenomenon, a blinding white light erupted in the distance, directly in their path. A colossal, swirling vortex of pure luminescence, a gaping maw in the fabric of reality, seemed to yawn open, ready to swallow them whole. It pulsed with an unholy brilliance, searing her retinas even through her half-closed eyes.
A collective shriek of terror tore through the bus, everyone instinctively throwing their hands up, shielding their faces from the impending oblivion.
Would this be it? Would they be consumed by this ethereal maw, erased from existence?
Just as the light threatened to engulf her completely, a strong arm snaked around her head from behind, pulling her gently but firmly against a solid chest. A silent, protective gesture. But the thought barely registered. The light consumed everything, her consciousness flickering, then extinguishing. Darkness, absolute and profound, swallowed her whole.