Today’s writing prompt says:
write a scene that involves jars.

I went much longer than 10 minutes this time, but I’m still waking up from sleep so I had a slow start.


“When’s this fucking bus going to get here!” It’s never a question, just a statement demanding an answer.

I could feel water trickling down my back. “I must still be dry in some places,” I thought. “Maybe it will help to distract myself while I wait for this goddamned mother-youknow what bus to think of the places on my body that are still dry.”

“The inside of my nose is dry. That’s good – I hate having water in my nose. My stomach is dr- wait, no it’s not. My Extra Special Items are dry. That’s good. I don’t think anyone wants their MESI wet by accident. That’s the worst. And it looks like that’s it. Every where else on my body is either soaking wet or – “

And then we saw it – The Bless-sed Bus.

Me and the other strangers at this stop in the middle of butt-wet-nowhereMississauga, Ontario. We had formed a little collective, us Waiting Rainers. I had made up a story about each of us, and this short time of our lives that would only happen once. I imagined something like being LOST. We could all live together in the wild, just in case the bus driver or some passenger decided to take the bus hostage and drive us all out into the wilderness outside of Toronto.

Everyone lined up to get through the open doors to the dry place inside. It wasn’t packed with people, as these things usually happen. And, somewhat oddly, no one made a race to the door to try and be the first one on.

“So polite!” I thought. “How would this work in the wild?”

Finally it was my turn to get on. I boarded and walked straight to the back, like the signs say. It’s my personal feeling that if you’re a strong, able-bodied person, you should always try and sit at the back of the bus.

There was a man at the very back who had surrounded himself with about 20 jars, all of different types and sizes. In my quick scan of the situation and the man’s level of craziness, my radar went to the highest level possible, so I sat as far away from him as I could even though there was another woman in the seat next to me.

It’s surprising how social people get when there’s a sense that *something* is about to happen.


Ah, shit.

Everyone in the bus heard him when he tried again, more frantically, with urgency this time. I started to feel the stares.


The woman I sat beside quietly excused herself to go sit further away. “You utter, complete BASTARD.” I thought, moving my legs to let her pass.

Want to see this turned into a story?

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