liminal space · cosmic horror · random events · surreal · silent driver · bus ride · unpredictable · mundane · eldritch · psychological
Rain gleamed on the asphalt, each drop a silver pin under the solitary streetlamp’s halo. you sat beneath the bus stop’s corrugated shelter, the rhythmic drumming on wet concrete a hypnotic rhythm against the pressing dark. Beyond, an endless wall of trees consumed the horizon, silent and watchful. No headlights pierced the gloom. Only the hiss of falling water and the slow creak of rain-swelled wood. you’s breath misted the cold air. Then, from the distance, a low growl—not thunder. The bus was approaching. But would it stop?