#SHADY: What Does It Mean To Be A Mother?

What does it mean to be a mother ?

I stared at the presentation topic in confusion. I understood that they wanted to be creative with mother’s day nearing but this topic made no sense at all.

Firstly, what would we, as high school kids, know about being a mother? Secondly, how was this topic even applied to us? Lastly, with the amount of research we’ll be able to find, all of our presentations won’t last longer than one minute – maximum. With that being said, why is it even an option?

Yet, Mr Atticker gave us a week to compile research and come up with the perfect presentation for our mid-year marks. My mind was blocked, I had no idea where to begin.

My dad picked me up from school that day and I told him all about the presentation. “In your opinion, what does it mean to be a mother?” I asked. He took his time thinking about it whilst focusing on the road. After a moment, he replied, “Well, that’s easy isn’t it? Being a mother means caring for your children and being there when they need you.”

Credit: Unsplash / Annie Spratt

I thought about his answer for a long time after I got home. Was the answer really that simple? Was I overthinking the entire topic? Should his answer be the main idea of my presentation?

I don’t know.

When I came down from my room later that night, Mom was in the kitchen preparing dinner, still wearing her office attire. I stood at the kitchen island watching her manage the oven, the stove and cutting up vegetables at the same time. She greeted me with a tired smile when she noticed me.

Sam, my little brother, ran to the kitchen calling for her, “Mom! I need help with my homework!”

“Just a second,” she replied before taste testing her stew on the stove. She turned to me with a sheepish smile. “Honey, you don’t mind watching the food while I help your brother do you?” I nodded and took over cutting the vegetables as she ran to help my brother. I sighed, deep in thought. I wished there was something more I could do than help my mom with the food preparations. She’s always so tired when she gets home from work, yet she still cooks and helps us with our homework without any complaints.

I was so deep in thought that I almost didn’t notice the knife cutting my finger. I winced loudly and dropped the knife, bringing my finger to my face to examine it. Mom immediately ran into the kitchen and when she saw my bloody finger, she made a face.

She hurried and got the first aid kit from the bathroom before examining my finger herself. “You should’ve been more careful,” she said and placed a plaster around my finger. “I’m sorry,” I said, but she shook her head.

“Don’t worry, it’s okay. As long as it doesn’t hurt a lot,” Mom smiled at me and it suddenly hit me.

That night, after dinner, I sat at my desk and stared at the presentation topic again.

What does it mean to be a mother?

Credit: Unsplash / Jonatas Domingos

I picked up my pen and began writing.

To be a mother means being a superhero.

When our entire world turns dark they are always there for us. They are the light that helps us see again. They were there for us on our first day of school, and waited for us with a delicious lunch when we got home. They are always there when we feel like we’re on the verge of a mental breakdown, they provide the shoulder for us to cry on.

Plus, they always give the best advice and have our best interests at heart. Mothers care for us and protect us even if it means that they get hurt in the process.

Yet, we take all those things for granted.

Honestly, we will never really know the true meaning of motherhood until we experience it ourselves, and therefore we should cherish and appreciate our mothers even more. This mother’s day is the perfect day to do so.

Thanks for reading!

If you, or anyone you know, would like to join us as: email us at girlonthebusza@gmail.com or send us a message on our social media!

#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.

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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.

BOOM!

What was that?

BOOM! FLASH

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

BOOM! CRASH!

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.

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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

Thanks for reading!

If you, or anyone you know, would like to join us as: email us at girlonthebusza@gmail.com or send us a message on our social media!

#STORYTIME: Confessions of a Teenage Body Shamer: Chapter 2

If mom knew Kasey was my partner, she’d probably have thrown a fit and rushed to my school the next day to complain and demand me a new partner. Which I guess wouldn’t have been that bad… but it’d sure have been embarrassing.

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Read Chapter 1 of ‘Confessions of a Teenage Body Shamer’ here.

When I got home after cheerleading practice the next day, I found my mom in the lounge working out. The furniture was moved aside to create an open space at the centre of the room. An old work out video played on the television and she effortlessly followed the instructor whilst looking over at me. 

“Hey, honey,” she greeted. I smiled politely and proceeded to make my way through the lounge towards my room. 

All I wanted to do was fall back onto my bed and stay there for the rest of the day, especially after the crucial practice Katie put us through. Mom, however, stopped me before I even reached the stairs. “Emma I think you should grab a yoga mat and join in,” I tried hard not to roll my eyes at her disapproving tone. “That cheerleading uniform seems a bit too tight.”

Instead of retorting, which I really wanted to do, I did as I was told and placed a yoga mat right next to her. I quickly got into the same position as her and just fell in with the work out.

“I heard from Katie’s mom that you guys got a project today, but you and Katie aren’t partners?” 

Mom’s laser-like eyes were focused on me and yet she never even wavered in the workout position she was in. I, on the other hand, could feel my arms and my legs wobbling.

“Yes, we couldn’t choose our own partners.”

“Well, then who’s your partner?”

“Just this new girl,” I lied. 

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If mom knew Kasey was my partner, she’d probably have thrown a fit and rushed to my school the next day to complain and demand me a new partner. Which I guess wouldn’t have been that bad… but it’d sure have been embarrassing.

Besides that, Katie thought that the project would be a great advantage to get some leverage over Kasey, I obviously couldn’t have agreed more but I was a bit anxious about how I was going to get said leverage.

“Oh, okay,” mom said and got up from the yoga mat to switch off the workout video. I stood up myself, trying hard to catch my breath before she noticed I was panting. She gave me a once over before walking towards the kitchen. “Dinner will be ready in an hour.” 

When she finally left, I felt like I could breath again. My phone went off with a notification and I checked it to see a text from none other than Kasey, herself.

Image from medium.com

I sighed when I saw her name was changed from Kasey to Fatty K. Katie must have done it. I made my way to my room while checking the message.

If you’re free we should start with the project tomorrow. I could go to your house or you come to mine?

I closed my room door, fell onto my bed and replied.

Your house.

An hour later I was sitting at the dinner table with my mom, trying to force down the salad she had made. 

“Where’s dad?” I asked in order to make small talk but it was shut down almost immediately.

“Working late.”

The atmosphere was so awkward but I guess I should’ve been used to it by then. 

I envied my dad for being able to escape having dinner with us. I was mad at him for leaving me alone with my mom when he knew exactly how unbearing and controlling she could be.

I imagined him sitting at his desk in his office or being at a restaurant, just eating anything that he wanted without having anyone control what he ate because of the amount of calories in it. 

“Why aren’t you eating?” Mom’s stern voice knocked me out of my thoughts. I looked up to see her icy gaze on me. I quickly smiled and shoved a few pieces of lettuce into my mouth. 

That night, when I went to bed, I prayed that the rest of the school year went by quickly so that I could just get away from all of it…

[To be continued…]

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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.

The 2020 Bus Ride: Our Year in Review 🚌

A review of everything we’ve done together on the bus this year.

2020 has been a wild (unexpectedly long) bus ride for all of us: we’ve hit lots of bumps on the road, but we’ve managed to have a little fun regardless.

This year we tried out, and added, a few new things: new, talented writers; new SPOOPY posts for October; posting once a week; lots and lots of poetry and short stories. It’s (semi-) safe to say that 2020 was our fullest bus ride yet and we’re super thankful for that.

To prepare for 2021, and the ideas we’ve got stacked up, here’s a review of everything we’ve done together on the bus this year.

P.S. Authors who do not have their own profiles on GOTB have Italicised names.

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We looked at lots of things we liked

Continue reading “The 2020 Bus Ride: Our Year in Review 🚌”

#HORROR-SHORROR: Shadow of The Night

Though bittersweet, this is the final installment for our month of spoopy!

E/N: Though bittersweet, this is the final installment for our month of spoopy! Let’s give a huge round of applause to these amazing writers👏🏼

I hope you’ve enjoyed these few stories written by our amazing spoopy writers, and that you continue to check out their posts in future. For more spoopy posts, check out the #HORROR-SHORROR tag.

Tara has never liked Halloween.

She detested everything to do with Halloween. As a matter of fact, she thought the entire concept was ridiculous. Who even decided to dedicate an entire month towards this charade? Her dislike included even horror movies – she thought they were just too nonsensical and predictable.

She was seen as the odd one out of her family, because her entire family absolutely loved Halloween, more than any other holiday. They constantly teased and pestered her with scary stories.

On the 31 October, after being assigned the duty of handing candy to the trick or treaters for the entire day, Tara couldn’t wait to get to bed and fall asleep. She was excited to see Halloween come to an end.

That night she got ready for bed earlier than usual, put on her comfiest pyjama’s and went about doing her nightly routine. When she finished, she got into bed, eager to fall asleep and wake up the next morning.

When Tara woke up again, it was because of a sound that she heard coming from downstairs. She sat up, a bit confused; she was usually a deep sleeper. The clock on her bedside table read 01:12 a.m. She decided to go back to sleep, but when she heard the noise again – louder this time – it made her jump.

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Frowning, she decided to check what the noise was. She got out of bed and slowly made her way towards the bedroom door. Cautiously, she opened the door; afraid she might make even more noise and wake everyone else up. But when she opened the door, she immediately froze.

Instead of seeing her brother’s closed bedroom door, as she was supposed to, she looked straight into a dark abyss…


Fearfully jumping, she slammed the door closed. She leaned against the door, panting. Her heart beating so fast she was scared she might go into cardiac arrest. She shut her eyes and repeated the words “this is just a dream”, and “wake up” several times. When she opened her eyes again, she let out a breath before slowly opening her bedroom door.


This time, however, instead of looking into a dark abyss, she was staring into a living room that looked to be abandoned. The furniture was dusty and covered in cobwebs. Though wanting to shut the door and just crawl back into bed, her feet carried her into the living room.

The door slammed shut behind her, giving her a shock. She ran back and pulled on the door knob, but it seemed to have locked by itself. She turned around and looked around the room. On the wall opposite her, she noticed a red handprint – walking closer to inspect it. A chill vibrated through her body and she realized that it was bloody. Slowly, the blood still dripped to the floor. She pulled at her hair and quickly backed away from the wall. 


What was going on?


A door slammed open, making her gasp. There, by the door, were stairs leading upward. Mustering up all of her courage, Tara slowly proceeded up the stairs. With every step she took, the stairs creaked louder and her anxiety increased. There was another door at the top of the stairs, but this wasn’t what made her stop dead in her tracks.

In front of the door stood a tall figure. He was cloaked in black and it looked like his feet weren’t touching the ground. That still wasn’t the scariest part, though. The scariest part was that his huge, glowing red eyes were looking directly at her. Tara turned around, preparing to go back downstairs, but, to her surprise, the tall figure appeared at the bottom of the stairs as well. 


She wanted to break down right then and there.


The figure approached her and she backed up, scared. He then stretched out his cloak covered hand. Seeing no other option, Tara put her hand in his. He led her towards the door further up the stairs, and she closed her eyes, afraid of what she’ll see.

The door creaked open and when she heard the screaming, her eyes snapped open. In front of her, lay a mass of soulless bodies, piled on top of one another. In sync, the corpses turned and slowly crawled towards her.

That’s when she realized that the dark figure disappeared. She frantically ran to the door and opened it but not before one of the corpses scratched her leg. Wincing, Tara leapt out of the door, only to fall into midair. 


She closed her eyes and screamed, but then plunged onto her bed. It was just a dream, yet it felt so real – too real. She could still feel the pain in her leg from where the corpse scratched her. Observing her leg, her heart started beating faster when she saw three deep scars with blood leaking out of them.

Footsteps were then heard coming from outside her bedroom and moments later her door slammed open and the dark figure entered her room, bringing a gust of wind with him. Tara screamed so loud, she felt the ground shake. 

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“Tara!” She heard her mom shout. “Tara, wake up!” Her eyes snapped open and she saw both her parents and her brother standing in her room. She noticed the scars on her legs disappeared, but she could still vaguely feel the pain. “Are you okay?” Her mom asked, concerned. Tara nodded, and mustered up a small smile.


“Yeah, it was just a nightmare,” she assured them. 


Yet, the entire time she spoke to them, she maintained eye contact with the tall, glowing-red-eyed figure standing behind her door…


Thank you so much to our writers and readers for supporting this spoopy month – I’m sure we’ll have more #HORROR-SHORROR posts in future! Now, it’s time to say goodbye to this month of spoopy, and welcome back out usual random quirkiness✨

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.

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Cape Town, Western Cape
South Africa

#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!

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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.

“What?”

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“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.

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“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.

Shutupshutupshutupshutupshutuoshutupshutupshutp

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

SHUT UP!

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-

NOOOOOOOOOOOO! DON’T SAY IT!

your wife! Haha


To be continued…

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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 Gravestone: A Short Horror

It had been a week since he had died – the police and coroner couldn’t come up with an appropriate ‘Cause Of Death’. This wasn’t humanly possible, for a man to have each of his fingers twisted around, his palms split in two, his face disfigured and his body… twisted like a soaked towel.

Taken from unsplash.com/@dibert

It was a cold winter’s day; the wind howling, trees rustling in the distance, the shadow of night approaching. But grief had a grip of steel on her heart and it wasn’t about to release her just yet.

It had been a week since he had died – the police and coroner couldn’t come up with an appropriate ‘Cause Of Death’. This wasn’t humanly possible, for a man to have each of his fingers twisted around, his palms split in two, his face disfigured and his body… twisted like a soaked towel. The police were unable to provide an appropriate report other than “disfigured corpse found in resident’s apartment. Cause Of Death is unknown”

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But she knew, oh yes she knew, what had mutilated her lover. She knew, because she had heard tales of the horrific beast – the evil spirit – the ghoul appropriately nicknamed “EL DESFIGURAR” “THE DISFIGURED.

“Known for mutilating victims in their sleep. By the time you realize it has you, it’ll be too late to cry for help. With the sound of creaking wood, the cracking of bones and the stench of decomposing flesh, the ice-cold hands of death gently wrap around your neck.

Once paralysed with fear, all you can do is watch in horror as your legs begin to snap backwards, your kneecaps bend inwards and your joints work like that of a flamingo. You’ll want to scream, but your throat will be laying in the palms of your hands. Your back snaps as your body twists like a wet cloth being strained, and finally, your fingers snap backwards, your palms split open, and death himself, will pity you.”

Taken from unsplash.com/@martinadams

As she sat there, mourning her dead lover, she heard the creaking of wood, the sound of snapping bones and got a whiff freshly decomposing flesh. Struck with fear, she snapped around to catch a glimpse of her dead lover before her – a bloodstained smile and sad pale eyes.

For a brief moment, it felt as though a sword had pierced her heart… and then he was gone.

Fear and adrenaline now filled her veins. She had to get out: get away from the madness, but as she turned to run, the shadow of night covered the sky, blocking out the pale light of the moon. A thin layer of ice-cold mist blanketed the ground.

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She heard it again – that menacing sound, echoing all around her. She needed to escape, but with no light to guide her, and a sickening feeling deep down in her stomach, she felt her way blindly through the graveyard, always stopping to listen for those menacing sounds.

She reached out one final time and felt something – it was cold, but firm, thin and… reaching out further, she felt more of them. She had made it towards the exit. Freedom was within her reach, but as she pushed against the bars, she fell to the ground. It was all in her head.

She sat down, tears flowing down her beautiful face, the tears warming up her face as the cold wind blew. Her lips dry, now moistened by her tears and layered thinly with the taste of salt. Helpless and alone, she got to her aching feet, and stumbled blindly through the dark once more.

Taken from unsplash.com/@8moments

She finally collapsed, exhausted, and stuck her head against a tombstone. Blood oozed out from her wound, but she didn’t care. She was too tired to pay any attention to the fresh wound. Then she heard it. Fear flowed through her veins. It was there. So was her newly deceased lover, who extended a mutilated hand.

She saw the smile he had on his face. Suddenly the moon lit up his face; she smelled decomposing flesh, heard the creaking of wood and the snapping of bones. She closed her eyes and within moments… she felt… nothing.

SADNESS IS OFTEN THE DEATH OF HAPPINESS.

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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.

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Cape Town, Western Cape
South Africa

#STORYTIME: Confessions of a Teenage Body Shamer: Chapter 1

I can think of an overall of three people that had left my school, Preston High, all due to bullying; mainly body shaming. Funny thing is, I was involved in all of those situations.

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Do you believe in fate, or destiny? Or do you believe that every decision you make in your life determines your future?

I guess I’m not really sure what I believe in. For most of my life I’ve been told what to do or what to believe in.

I can think of an overall of three people that had left my school, Preston High, because of bullying.

Funny thing is, I was involved in all of those situations.

12,728 High School Building Stock Photos, Pictures & Royalty-Free ...
Photo taken from fstop123 on istockphoto.com

In ninth grade, we had what was most probably the hottest day at school yet, and Patty Leviton came to school in a red and black striped tank top and shorts. My friends found it disgusting.

They said that she had flabs under her arms that shouldn’t be shown to anyone at anytime. They said that it should be illegal for people “like her” to even wear shorts. They said that she was too “overweight” to be taken seriously in that get-up.

I laughed along with them, agreeing to everything they said – as always.

That day in the cafeteria, my best friend, Katie, publicly humiliated Patty in front of everyone. There was this moment of silence where Katie looked over at me expectantly, and then everyone looked at me.

I had so many choices to choose from…

I could’ve stood up for Patty in that moment, but then I’d risk losing my friends. So, I made the easiest choice; I stood up and poured my entire soda over Patty’s head.

Photo from commons.wikimedia.org

The same kind of thing happened to Jack Melton and Sarah Umen.

We made fun of Jack for being the skinniest kid in our school. We bullied him on a daily basis: calling him all kinds of names, taking pictures of him and making him the joke of the school website. Laughing at him as he walked past us.

It took Jack a total of four weeks before he left Preston – the quickest yet.

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Sarah lasted a lot longer at the school, although I’m pretty sure she lost her dignity before that. We bullied her for being overweight, for so long.

Katie and I once caught her in the bathroom after lunch, retching so hard in one of the bathroom stalls, I was sure her intestines would’ve come out if she tried any harder.

Katie, who was trying so hard not to laugh, motioned for me to take my phone out and record her. Again, I could’ve said no, but instead I put on a smug smile and did exactly as she said.

The video footage got about 400 views on the first night it was uploaded onto our website and I was praised by my friends for the following few weeks.

Taken from Robert Brookes and Associates article on pinterest.com

Even after all the remorse and guilt I felt for doing all those things, I never once stood up for myself and I never once let people know how I felt about it. Even though it made me seem heartless to most people. Until Kasey Hopman.

At the start of eleventh grade, she was our schools new resident “fat girl”. Yet, everytime we brought her down or bullied her or commented on her weight, she’d smile and walk away with her head held high.

To say I hated her, would be an understatement because I loathed her. She thought she could just walk away like she owned the place.

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One day, in biology, we got a project that we had to do with a partner. I looked at Katie and smiled. But my smile immediately dropped when our teacher said that she’d be choosing the partners.

Imagine my astonishment when she partnered me up with no other than Kasey Hopman.

“Hi, Emma,” Kasey said with a smile as she plopped down in the seat next to me. I could feel the steam leaving my ears.

Everything got worse when Ms Perrish announced that we would be partners for the rest of the year.

Kasey turned to me, this time with a smug look on her face, “This should be fun.”

I banged my head against the desk because I already knew it was going to be a long year…

To be continued…

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