The Faceless One - A short story

I get on the bus and walk up the steps. I look around for an empty seat, I find two, an empty row. I walk to the middle and sit by myself; look forward and mind your own business. I look forward and study all those who sit in front of me. Most are men, only one is a lady. Maybe I should feel weary, I don’t. But right at the front I see just a hoodie. The figures image reflects in the front window. He’s faceless. There is no face. The faceless one.

I wonder whether its death on his way to collect a soul (the Grimm Reaper), but where’s his scythe? A demon blending among us. I wonder if I’m imagining things. Could it possibly be faceless?

I wonder whether the faceless one can hear my thoughts, feel my eyes burning a hole in the back of his head as I stare and stare and stare. I wonder if the faceless one can see, does he ever get off the bus? Or is he always just… there. But one thing I do know is that he’s faceless. The faceless one.

Hope you like this short story,

Ellah xx