Liminal spaces, we call them and never stay there for too long in fear of what we might see.
You've been to them before - bus stops, country roads, gas stations and public bathrooms.
Our story follows someone who waited for a bus for too long.
The roads were clear, the evening sky clearer still and the chances of things going wrong seemed minute.
Our protagonist is a student, nineteen and fed up after half an hour of sitting alone.
The small wooden bus shelter does nothing to protect them from the cold spring breeze.
Still they wait and wait, unable to afford anything else.
The evening began to wear on and they started wondering if the bus would ever show.
After all, nobody wants to be stuck on the outskirts of a village all night.
Especially one that doesn't have an inn.
They knew the last bus was due to arrive at 00:20 hours, not long left until then.
Bored of checking their watch every other moment they examined their surroundings.
Trees lined the opposite side of the road, thin little whips of trees, tall and barely blooming.
It only served to make the otherwise deserted area feel more bleak.
The movements through those trees, silhouetted by the sunset were just the wind, right?
It worried them that sometimes they thought they saw thin hands waving through the branches.
It worried them more that similar trees seemed to be growing through the bus shelter, so close to them.
It worried them most that their bus was an hour late.
The winds picked up and the sun sank further.
Those thin trees next to them practically vibrated in the increasing wind.
It looked like they were mixed with some kind of ivy as thick and almost-fleshy branches moved in tandem.
In fact, the longer they stared, the more the branches resembled a waving hand.
A waving hand that slowly, almost deliberately, raised itself and began to stretch out.
There was only so far back they could go, and with the low light they wouldn't be able to see where to run.
All they did was press their body to the opposite side of the shelter and hope the creature didn't come closer.
The air in their body left all at once in a half-shriek as the bright lights of a bus shone down the road
Just as the bus pulled up, the arm retracted and a large head appeared by the window, smiling widely.
It's a shame they didn't look back after running to the open bus doors.
These things are hard to come by, let alone walk away from.
They're the kind of being that's only in the corners of your eyes until you're too close to run.
The kind of being that waits in these liminal spaces, arms always wide open for the next stranger.
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