#STORYTIME: Looking at the Sky atop the Mountain☁️

Looking at the sky, here atop the mountain, is a different experience for most.

Taken from @raffalel on unsplash.com

Looking at the sky, here atop the mountain, is a different experience for most.

It feels different. Almost like an out-of-body experience.

I looked at the sky turn an array of colours. It went from the calm and sleep inducing colour of black, to navy blue. Which then turned into a purple and then to a pink.

The first evidence of light coming to wake you up.

I saw the sky turn from that comforting purple-pink, to its fiery reds and oranges. These colours shone so brightly that there was no point in sleeping anymore.

The little streaks of yellow that accompanied the fiery colours, extended to the ends of the sky. Reaching far and wide to spread more of the colours.

This soon turned into a light blue sky with little fluffs of white in it.

The clouds looked at peace, on their leisurely stroll with the light breeze, but there was a dark figure lurking behind them.

A figure, so dark and gloomy, began consuming the light and fluffy clouds, one by one, turning the sky dark and lifeless.


The wind picked up and became icy. Blowing so harshly that the trees and plants uprooted themselves.

I ran to some boulders to try and take cover from the brewing storm, but to no avail. I was cold, wet and afraid.

The rain started to pick up and belt against the earth, causing the topsoil to break and wash away.

The rain: not liquid for long, and turned into solid ice that fell harder and faster.


What was that?


I looked left and right at what the noise and sudden light could possibly be.


rain storming GIF
Taken from giphy.com

I tried covering my ears to muffle the sounds, but it was no use. The more I covered my ears, the louder the sounds became. The more I squeezed my eyes shut, the brighter the light. The more I curled in on myself to retain some heat, the colder the wind became.

I screamed everytime the cymbals of the sky crashed. I flinched everytime the lightning hit the ground close to me.

Yet, I couldn’t do anything but sit there and watch as the storm grew more intense.

I gave up on muffling out the sounds and blocking out the light and cold. I chose sleep over survival. I chose to run away instead of facing the storm.

A few hours passed and I woke up to birds chirping in the distance, opening my eyes to the grass next to me.

It was wet, with some droplets on the fine blades of grass, but it looked at peace and not as though it had just weathered a storm.

I closed my eyes and rolled onto my back. Squeezing my eyes shut so that the image of what was left of the storm could not hurt me.

I had a feeling that the storm subsided and that it was safe to open my eyes. Hesitant, I opened my eyes to see what words fail to describe.

Beautiful and colourful, that nothing could be compared to it.


The sky had turned from a dark and terrifying Davy’s grey, to its fiery reds and oranges again.

Amazed at the image laid out in front of me, I started crying out of joy that the sun had decided to make an appearance.

I saw that beautiful fire turn into sweet and lulling purples and pinks. Which then turned into a navy blue and eventually into the sleep-inducing black.

Just seeing the sunset after the storm, was truly thrilling, but also comforting. I had truly come out of the storm.

I laid there and continued to stare at the sky littered with stars, admiring the beauty of the sky.

It truly is a great experience looking at the sky atop the mountain.

silhouette of mountain under cloudy blue sky photo taken during sunset
Taken from @jdiegoph on unsplash.com

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#HORROR-SHORROR: The Killings of Everdale: Chapter 2

Here comes the second spoopy chapter of The Killings of Everdale.

To read The KIllings of Everdale: Chapter 1, click here. To read more spoopies, click on the #HORROR-SHORROR tag!

Taken from Unsplash.com/@nbb_photos

Dried blood.

Why was there blood on my hands and better yet, whose blood was it?

Could it be Bruce’s? Mary’s? Could it be my own?

I frantically started feeling my body in search of any scratches or wounds that I may have had – nothing.

“What’s wrong?” Eileen asked as she looked up at me with fear in her eyes. “You’re scaring me”, she whimpered, her eyes glossy.

“Oh, I’m sorry honey. It’s just, something feels off about this.” I said questioningly.



“I don’t understand what you mean ‘off’. Do you mean that their deaths are questionable or how they died?” she said, starting to shake.

“That’s not what I meant.” I sigh.

“I just mean that-

“Ladies and gentlemen, if you all could be so kind as to leave the premises and go back home. I’m sure that we, as the police, can handle this without you all hovering around us”, one of the police officers announced through his loud-speaker.

“Let’s go, Eileen. We don’t need to stay here anymore. Let the police do their work, ok?” I said reassuringly.

She looked up at me and I could see the anger and sadness in her eyes. I could tell that my statement made her upset, but I didn’t have time for that right then.

“Let’s go”, I said sternly. She gripped my shirt and just nodded, that’s my signal to start walking.

We arrived at our house and Eileen opened up our door with shakey hands.

“Honey, about what I said earlier. What I meant to say was-

“I’m going to bed”,she said plainly.

“I meant to say that their deaths feel random and out of place, y’know?”

She stopped walking up the stairs and looked back at me. Her eyes looked emotionless and tired.

woman walking downstairs
Taken from Unsplash.com/@yxvi

“Andrew. I get it, OK? I get it. Let’s just go sleep and figure this out later on, alright?” she said plainly.

“What’s with the sudden change of emotions, huh? First you bite my head off for saying my opinion and then the minute I do say what I meant, you back off and all of a sudden just don’t care?! ” I shouted angrily.

Eileen carried on up the stairs and I ran after her. Pulling her back by her wrist, I pushed her against our bedroom door.

“Tell me. Is it something I did?” I asked her.

“Let go of me” she says, emotionlessly.

She kept her face turned away from me and kept trying to get out of my grasp.

“I said, let me go!”she screamed in my face, but I just tightened my grasp on her wrists.

“Eileen. Baby. Don’t be like this. I’m just trying to understand why you’re being like this over the neighbours deaths?”

I let go of her wrists and slid my hands down to hers, rubbing her knuckles reassuringly.


“I’m sorry, it’s just – it’s just bringing up some stuff that happened when I was younger.” she said with tears in her eyes.

A tear rolled down her cheek and next thing I knew, she was crying again. I brought my left hand to the back of her head and pulled her into my chest.

She gripped the back of my shirt and carried on crying on my chest. I held her tighter and continued to just stand there.

Once she had calmed down, I brushed her hair out of her face and smiled at her.

“Do you feel better now?” I asked as I looked into her tired eyes.

She nodded and buried her face into my chest again.

“Let’s get into bed and sleep. We can just rest for the whole day and start unpacking the day after. Hmm?” She nodded into my chest and I just chuckled.

I opened the door and walked her backwards to the bed. We gently fell onto the bed and continued hugging.

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is image.jpeg

You forgot to wash your hands, Andrew.

Why are you still here?

C’mon, Andrew. *chuckle*

Shut up. Let me sleep.

What was that nonsense you sprouted about their deaths being random. You should know that you just did it because you found them annoying.

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

Of course it’s random. You just killed them after meeting them. How else is it not random.


Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha or did you just say that so your wife wouldn’t suspect the other neighbours?!


Or did you say it, so that your wife doesn’t suspect you?

No, you’re wrong.

Am I? *chuckle*

What do you want from me? Just leave me alone.

All I want from you, is to give in to your desires. I know you want to kill everything and everyone.

No. No, no, no, no, no, no

Everyone… your high-school bullies, your alcoholic father, your absent mother, your dreadful parent-in-laws and, this also includes-


your wife! Haha

To be continued…


Thanks for reading! GirlOnTheBus is powered by a strong, sassy group of women with a love for writing and sharing stories. If you know of someone in your community doing amazing things for themselves or others, let us know! You can tag us in posts on social media with #girlonthebusblog or send us an email under the GOT SOMETHIN’ TO SAY tab. So easy! We look forward to hearing about the talented and simply stellar individuals across the globe.

Cape Town, Western Cape
South Africa

#HORROR-SHORROR: The Killings of Everdale : Chapter 1

We drove inside once the gates opened and carried on driving on a long-winded road. Passing by the millions of Lawson Cypress trees, shrubs trimmed to perfection and a pool the size of a football field, tennis courts that covered the land, we finally reached the first row of houses. We reached house number 13, the place we could finally call home after living with my in-laws for 7 dreadful years.

black metal fence
Taken from Unsplash.com/@littlepineco

We finally arrived at the gate that would open up to a breath-taking community of rich people: Everdale.

The gate was probably made of pure gold and had all sorts of adornments on it. Ranging from angel wings to diamond encrusted spikes on the top.

Our old red and black 1966 Mustang didn’t fit in with this neighbourhood of Rolls-Royces, Mercedes Benzes and other fancy car brands.

Yet, we drove inside once the gates opened and carried on driving on a long-winded road. Passing by the millions of Lawson Cypress trees, shrubs trimmed to perfection and a pool the size of a football field, tennis courts that covered the land, we finally reached the first row of houses.

green leafed plant
Taken from Unsplash.com/ @ivybarn

The houses were all identical – red face brick walls, dark grey roofs, white windows and doors, and yet the only thing that made them different, were the numbers on the houses starting from ‘1’.

We drove slowly down the street, past the identical houses and the few people that we saw outside, either on their porches or tending to their front gardens.

We reached house number 13, the place we could finally call home after living with my in-laws for 7 dreadful years.

We stepped out of our car and looked at the house. It looked like the other houses. Red face brick walls, dark grey roof, etc.

The movers truck stopped behind us and started unloading all of our belongings.

We unlocked the house and stepped inside.

Image taken from a Quora user: https://www.quora.com/How-do-Americans-feel-about-their-houses-being-so-identical-to-one-another

“Oh my gosh, Eileen. This place is better the second time in seeing it”, I said as I stepped closer to my wife.

“I’m sure it will look better with some furniture and our personal touch.”

After half an hour, the movers were done unloading the furniture and putting them where we wanted them to be.

The place looked amazing… even better with all of our stuff in it. Finally… our place.

Knock knock.

We turned to the door and I opened it, seeing a young couple standing with cookies in their hands.

“Hello neighbour!” chirped the woman.

“It’s nice to see that we are not the only young-ish couple here”, giggled the woman again.

“Oh how rude of us to not introduce ourselves. I’m Bruce and this is my wife Mary. We live across the road at number 12”, said the man with a friendly smile.

Houses with the number 13 sell for less in many parts of the ...
Taken from thejournal.ie

“Ah, yes, hey there. We didn’t expect to get visitors so soon”, I said jokingly.

“I’m Andrew and this is my wife Eileen. We’re from Pine Springs and we decided that it was time to finally move out of Eileen’s parents’ house.”

“Well it was nice meeting you both. We’d love to catch up with you guys some other time, right? I’m sure you guys need to get settled in first”, said Mary.

“Maybe we can talk tomorrow, since it’s the weekend and you guys can just come over around noon-ish?”

“Ummmm we’re bu-“

“Yes sure! We’ll see you guys tomorrow at your place and we’ll bring some goodies with”, Eileen said excitedly.

“Alright then! See you tomorrow neighbours!” Bruce and Mary said as they walked to their house.

Eileen returned inside, but I decided to stay standing there on the front porch, gazing at the pinkish sky and sunset.

“I’m sure we’ll like this place and the people that live here as well”

grass field
Taken from Unsplash.com/@directedbyshawn

I woke up to my wife shaking me and shouting my name.


“Wha-what’s wrong? Why did you wake me?”

I looked past her to the window and saw the flashing of red and blue lights outside.

“Honey? Why are the police here? Don’t they know it’s four in the morning?”

I looked at my wife and she seemed eager to see what was happening outside.


I got out of our bed and went to the window. I saw a crowd placed outside of Bruce and Mary’s place.

I wonder what happened?

I stepped away from the window and grabbed my jacket hanging behind the door. My wife, grabbing her gown and phone, followed after me out the bedroom, down the stairs and out the front door.

We made sure to lock the door behind us and walked across the street.

Taken from Pinterest.com/http://grandrapidsusedcars.pfeiffer84th

As we got closer to the house, we heard some people in the crowd crying. Some whispers of “they were too young to leave”, and others asking why someone would do that.

As we neared the front of the crowd, we saw some of the people that were at the pool and tennis courts we drove past, as well as the people that were on their porches.

We wondered why they were there until we looked at the scene in front of us: Bruce’s body slumped against the door with a knife wedged into his chest, and Mary’s body strewn across the walkway of their garden, faced down with huge slashes on her back.


There was something carved onto Bruce’s forehead. It was bloody but one could make out the words written on it.


“Oh lord” my wife said once she saw the scene in front of her.

She hugged me tighter and hid her crying face into my chest. I stroked her back and whispered comforting words.

I couldn’t look away from the scene in front of me.

Why did this happen? I was supposed to speak to them later that day over coffee and get to know them. Why? Why did someone do this to the friendlie-


I looked around at who could’ve said that.


There. I heard it again. Who said that? Why are they saying that?

They were so annoyingly nice.

I stopped looking for the voice, only to realise it was my own. Why was I saying that?

It’s good that they’re gone. We don’t have to deal with any annoying people anymore. It’s time you looked at the dried blood on your hands now, Andrew. Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha…

What? Dried blood? I looked at my hands that were around my wife only to notice the stickiness of them. I brought the one hand up and sniffed it.

Dried blood.

[To be continued]

Thanks for reading! GirlOnTheBus is powered by a strong, sassy group of women with a love for writing and sharing stories. If you know of someone in your community doing amazing things for themselves or others, let us know! You can tag us in posts on social media with #girlonthebusblog or send us an email under the GOT SOMETHIN’ TO SAY tab. So easy! We look forward to hearing about the talented and simply stellar individuals across the globe.


#HORROR-SHORROR: ”I could see it on her face…”

DISCLAIMER: Some of the themes/dialogues in this article deal with abuse and domestic violence, and may be triggering, or uncomfortable for some readers. Please read at your own discretion.

I am sitting at the café waiting for Diana; she told me to meet her here, sounding frantic on the phone.

”Meet me at our usual place, at two ‘o clock. I need to meet with you urgently. Please come meet me –

I heard a man shouting in the background…

” – I-I don’t think I can handle it anymore”.

The shouting then grew nearer…

‘Who are you talking to?!’

~YOUR CALL HAS BEEN DISCONNECTED~ , and that was the last that I heard.

The bell above the door chimes, alerting the barista at the counter, ”Welcome”.

I look up from my phone and see Diana walking towards me. She isn’t wearing her usual colourful clothing, nor is her bright red hair tied up, but hanging loosely, covering her face slightly. She smiles meekly at me, but it doesn’t reach her eyes; she looks dead.

”So why’d you call me? I saw you like two days ago” I ask. She just plays with her wedding ring.

She looks up at me, as I look at her closely, I can see that her eyes are puffy and her nose red.

”Can’t I just see you anytime I want to?”, she asks hoarsely.

”I mean, you can, but it’s not like you to call me during work.”

She looks around nervously, tightening her grip so much that her knuckles turn white, biting her lip nervously. Next thing I know, tears start rolling down her cheeks onto her black turtleneck.

”It’s about Max. He-He’s…” she starts sobbing, uncontrollably.

I put my hand on hers and give a comforting squeeze, gently saying, ”You don’t have to tell me if you don’t feel comfortable”.

Her crying’s calmed down, she moves her hands and tucks her hair behind her ears. That’s when I see it on her face – a monster mark, that no person deserves branded onto their face. A mark that’ll make anybody want to murder the person that produced it. On her jaw, a bruise, so ugly: its blue discoloration and hints of red.

She then rolls down her collar and I see more red marks starting to emerge, I stop her hands by putting mine on hers. She looks at me, confused and hurt.

I shake my head side to side, she looks at me like a deer in the headlights and starts trembling. We don’t speak, communicating just with our eyes. I look at her sternly and stand up.

I walk to her side of the table, roll her collar up, take my coat off and put it around her shoulders. I kiss her forehead and grab her hand. I pay the barista at the counter and leave the café, holding Diana’s hand tightly.


We stop in front of Diana and Max’s house, idling for a bit in the car before I turn to her.

“Do you want me to come in?”

She shakes her head and as she gets out of my car, barely above a whisper she says, “I love you.”

She freezes as she looks out to the house. I could see it on her face, she dreaded going back there; she didn’t want to step out of my car. I could see it on her face…


From the GirlOnTheBus team: if anyone is struggling with abuse, we support you and want you to all be safe. If you are in need of help, click here.