Every so often I will add a small extract from a writing project I am working on. I won't put any details about the genre or title of the book, but will let you use your imagination. Feedback is definitely welcomed and I am hoping that sharing will help me grow as a writer.
My colleague died yesterday on the number 41 bus.
Martin had turned up to work looking ghostly pale and shivering, his eyes blurry and barely open. "Ewwww, go home and die in your own bed!" I'd said in feign horror. Little did I know he wouldn't make it that far.
"35 yr old male, identified as Matin Saxby, was found dead on the number 41 bus to Tottenham Hale, yesterday morning." The News reporter explained. "It seems that the driver thought he was a drunk homeless man and had let him sleep a while. Sadly, Mr Saxby had already passed away, and it wasn't until a passenger alerted the driver to the fact that the deceased didn't seem to be breathing, that an ambulance was called. a short time later, Mr Saxby was pronounced dead at the scene. His family have been informed and his death is not currently being treated as suspicious, although an autopsy will be carried out to determine the true cause of death"
That was it, 20 seconds of air time, and one picture that flashed on the screen of Martin 10 years ago in Ibiza. The only reason it had been on the news at all was because It had already been leaked on social media by several people, who had instantly started recording the scene when they realised something was up. Vultures that would rather a few 'likes' than allow another human being any kind of dignity, and not caring if they were late for work to get them. Mind you, don't they call that human nature?
The office has been shut today in respect, and we had no idea what to do with our selves, so at 3.15pm the day after Martin died, we're sat in the local staring at our un-drunk drinks. The pub seemed like a good idea to begin with, but now you can see on our faces that we just feel awkward and uncomfortable. I have this awful stale taste in my mouth that won't go away. How are you supposed to feel when something like this happens? Anger? Guilt? Sadness?
I just felt numb.
We sit for what feels like hours, passing appropriate comments between us, but all the while not really making eye contact. Eventually, after an appropriate amount of time, we rejoin our own lives and retreat back to our partners, pets and children.
We didn't see it coming, but what happened next turned our lives into nightmares with a side of terror, and we didn't stand a chance.