The 100 Circle Line

It was another slow day, the sun had only just risen and I had found myself carefully stepping between the cracks in the pavement as I approached the 'drop off point'. The place where a large metal vehicle would belch out a few lucky souls, only to have taken a few more.

I was one of these people. Destined to throw myself into the belly of the metallic beast. I liked to consider myself a brave and noble warrior. As I would dive in headfirst, eyes flaming with a brillant passion found only in those that have found enlightenment.

As I neared the little building, barely providing enough shelter for one against the harsh weather of this barren land, I noticed another and had to pause in my tracks for I had realized how sad a day this was.

There was another who was to be thrown to this beast. The evil of 100 Circle Line, how dare it take more than one life! The horid glutton! I wanted to revolt right then and there, to turn tail and run, but no. That was not the noble way of a warrior.

I took a deep breath and continued, standing next in line. The girl next to me, just a simple school girl, tapping her legs softly with a slight harmonic hum upon her lips, she seemed so blisfully unaware of the dangers she was facing, or perhaps she was an incredibly brave soul. She had a large bag upon her back, alikening her appearence to a sort of humpbacked animal, perhaps a very gorgeous camel, as she was quite the looker.

The 100 Circle line tends to like females, young supple females. I rarely ever see a male venture into this beast.

It pulled up beside us, roaring with the might of a thousand burley bearded warriors clad in aluminum foil. There is nothing more dangerous than a thousand burley bearded mean clad in aluminum foil, except maybe Courtney. Yet that is another story for another day, and I assure you, there will be a story. Thats right Courtney, read over my shoulder with your glittering eyes and yell my name in fear, fear of your secrets being exposed.

Because I love you.

The beast opened its doors to me, and I gave a whimper as I stepped on, the old man drained of his life stared back at me. The doors closed behind me with a thunderous clap, and I imagined a tin foil man snapping his tamborine with an almighty roar.

Why were the people on the Circle Line old and dreary? Did the beastly bus suck the life from them? Their very soul?

Only time would tell.

I gave myself a reassuring nod as I paid my fare, hoping and praying that I would survive the dance with the beast.

The unyielding terror that is...

The 10o Circle Line