Bus stop writing prompt by Funke


I am on my haunches, still.

I wish I hadn’t picked my friend’s call.

I wouldn’t have heard his voice whispering though my ear piece. 

The air around me has ceased to move. I throw off my jacket – It is hot.

“Where are you” he asked me?

“Ladipo bus stop” I replied.

You are two bus stops from the spot where it happened, it was ghastly…


My phone rolls out of my hand.

I take in deep breaths into my tight chest, my eyes glaze – the world around me floats in

tears – watering down the colours – the blue sky turns grey, the clay ground a dull splotchy red,

the sun hides behind clouds.

I scream out aloud, holding my hands over my ears.

A circle of people close round me. Looking…

My hand trembles as I point to a man, “Why are people walking on their heads, I ask an old woman beside me.

The crowd moves back, shaking their heads – “the madness just start o,” one voice exclaims. “Ah! Na fine man o” another says.


Mad! Yes, I am mad. Mad with a madness no parent prays for.


“Pull yourself together!” my friend had told me. “You are a man”.


A man? Is it the thing I have in between my legs that makes me immune to pain, grief – the fire engulfing my heart, spreading through my body?


I take in a deep breath and look around me again; Vehicles and people rush past me – In shades of black, white and grey.


The only colours I see are on children, children of his age, children alive and well.


I pick myself off the ground, the crowd parts for me. I keep on walking to the bus stop where it all happened.


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