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The story so far...
How she wished that he had not confided in her. That night, in restless dreams, she heard those softly spoken words again and again - always accompanied by a hint of laughter. And when the dawn chorus finally heralded the start of a brand new day, she found herself torn between telling all or keeping quiet. As, at this moment, only the pair of them knew – so who else could she possibly turn to?
Cathy decided to keep quiet. There was something about the way he'd told her, something about the tone in his voice. As if he thought it was funny. Or could it be that he didn't believe it himself?
"Quiet! Shut up!" she yelled at the dog - he was edgy too.
To steal a bus! What was the man thinking of - and parking it outside; what on earth would the neighbours think? Cathy knew he could be childish, and could even be leaning a bit towards the loony, but this?
For God's sake, Peter wasn't even drunk; or out on a stag night; or in his case with the lads playing dominoes on a Friday night - he was stone cold sober and did it just for a lark.
At the age of 77 - her dad.
She got out of bed as quietly as she could and went to the window. Plenty of light was creeping through the mercifully-closed curtains, and all seemed quite peaceful. That would change pretty quickly, she thought.
Still a bit edgy and unsure of exactly what was going on, the dog jumped from the bed and came to her, an expectant, questioning look in his eyes as she took a deep breath and drew the curtains, letting the bright light of Saturday morning streaming in.
She couldn't believe what she was seeing.
A Red Double Decker bus! God, he really had done it - and who should be in the drivers seat but Pete, her Dad!
And on the bus were all her relations - aunts,uncles, cousins and even grandparents!
"Come on Cathy," they all yelled, "we're off on an adventure!"
"But where to?" asked Cathy.
"Now don't be daft," came the reply. "If we knew that, it wouldn't be much of an adventure, would it? Get on and wait and see what's round the next corner".
Cathy hesitantly took a step nearer, just near enough for uncle Bert to grab her arm and drag her on.
In a flash the big red bus lurched forward and they were off.
As Cathy glanced at the strangely gnarled arm that had dragged her onto the big red bus she sensed danger.
The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. All the faces that stared back at her were caricatures of the people she knew and loved dearly.
Uncle Bert certainly looked like Uncle Bert, but there was something slightly wrong about him, something different.
As the bus slowed down and neared the corner, Cathy suddenly remembered something.
It was Saturday, but the street was entirely deserted. Not that she lived in a particularly busy part of town, but even during the week there were usually plenty of people about. Cathy looked over her shoulder and could just see her house over the heads of the people craning over their seats to get a better look at her. Whatever adventure she had suddenly become part of, it felt there was no going back now. She shifted in her seat as the bus turned the corner and her house disappeared from view.
Oh well, she thought, it looks like I'm here for the duration. Everyone around her seemed to be engrossed in their own private conversations, and there was an excited air of anticipation as the bus passed the shops. Never one to like suprises (even ones of the more mundane nature), Cathy needed to know what was going on. She decided to have a word with her reckless father, whose bus-stealing antics had started this whole thing. She gathered her thoughts, took a deep breath, rose from her seat and carefully made her way towards the front.
Cathy's dad turned in his seat.
"There's no stop here, girl," he said, "you'd better get back to your seat."
"What's going on, Dad?" Cathy asked. "You better let me know or I'm not going anywhere."
"Well that's just where you're wrong, my girl," he replied as he continued driving, "you're definitely going somewhere."
"Well, when you confided in me, I never thought you had the guts to go through with it! I wouldn't mind but you didn't even give me a chance to get dressed!"
Her father looked down at her flimsy nightie. "That's no problem," he explained. "Look upstairs. There's an old wardrobe. Have a look in there, there'll surely be something in there to take your fancy."
Cathy climbed the stairs. Sure enough there was the old wooden wardrobe, jogging with the motion of the bus. She opened the door and was amazed at what she saw.
It wasn't so much the quantity of fur coats that left her speechless, nor the quality - although they all looked decidedly expensive. It was the bright light coming from the back of the wardrobe that bothered Cathy. She knew it was inviting her in - into the wardrobe - but she was reluctant to do so. It reminded her of something and pulled at her memories, as though she had been in a similar situation (or at least had read about it) at some point in the past. She leaned forward and pushed a few of the fur coats out of the way.
Just as she was about to tentatively step inside, the bus lurched first to the left and then the right and came screeching to a halt. Urgent screams for help echoed up the stairs and then slowly but surely the bus started to topple onto its side.
Everything started to move in slow motion and when Cathy looked round, the wardrobe was falling - doors open - on top of her. She tried to make a move to escape - the thought of drowning in a sea of dead animal skins was too much to bear.
And then the words of a clairvoyant she’d consulted many years ago came to mind – and Cathy knew what was going to happen next.
The only question was whether she should do something now or remain where she was and let her destiny take its course. Cathy had a mind to put the clairvoyant to the test and simply wait for the inevitable to happen. But what would that prove? Cathy had always been fiercely independent, and the thought of having her Saturday ruined (more than it had been already) along some pre-ordained lines was simply unacceptable.
"I've had enough of all this," she said to herself, moving the disordered pile of fur coats on top of her out of the way.
As Cathy left the bus the weather had turned cold, but she had forgotten to put anything over her flimsy nightdress. Within a few seconds snow was falling. Cathy was very cold so she started to walk quickly through the street.
Just then, as she turned a corner, the wardrobe from the bus reappeared in front of her with doors open. As Cathy was so cold she decided to walk in to grab a fur coat - the light invited her through and the scene in front of her reminded her of a classic book she had read as a child.
It's suprising how, even in her frozen state, Cathy's keen fashion sense made her reluctant to chuck on any old coat. So, as she fumbled through the selection at hand, Cathy was astonished to see a bright red switch.
"Now to solve this annoying mystery," she thought, fighting with her chosen fur.
As her arms finally slipped into her selected silver sable it became clear to Cathy what she needed to do.
'Cause the clue is I must lie on the switch in the wardrobe.
Feeling somewhat apprehensive, Cathy took a deep breath, put both hands on the switch, closed her eyes and gave it a mighty heave. There was a loud bang and a smell like a discharged firework. For a few seconds there was only silence (apart from the ringing in Cathy's ears). Although she was still wrapped in a fur coat, Cathy noticed it felt different. It felt more like a blanket - and that ringing sounded more like an alarm clock.
In fact, she realised, that's exactly what it was. Unsure whether she was feeling relief or apprehension, Cathy reached out to her left, turned off the alarm clock and opened her eyes. Her bedrooom was as dimly lit as she remembered, and the dog was still curled up on the bed. The only question was - what day was it? She walked to the curtains and slowly drew them back.
The first thing she saw was the garden, which was all as clean and tidy as she'd left it the night before. The second thing she noticed was her father standing on the path, looking up at her with a big grin on his face. She knew he wasn't grinning because he'd had some luck at dominoes. No, the object of his amusement was glaringly obvious. Parked rather neatly (and inevitably), right outside the house, was a big red double decker bus.
The end.
Lines 1-5 by Jayne Lettice
Lines 6-10 by Su Baccino
Lines 11-15 by John Fisher
Lines 16-20 by Sarah Grant
Lines 21-25 by June Gray
Lines 26-30 by Steve Catmore
Lines 31-35 by Steve Catmore
Lines 36-40 by Pauline Walker
Lines 41-45 by Mrs J A Francis
Lines 46-50 by M Marshall
Lines 51-55 by Julie Hogg
Lines 56-60 by Julie Hogg
Lines 61-65 by Mrs V Stanley
Lines 66-70 by Rob Barlow
Lines 71-75 by Pauline Yallop
Lines 76-80 by Lynda
Lines 81-85 by Claudette
Lines 86-90 by Paul Reade
Lines 91-95 by David Butler
Lines 96-100 by J Little
Thanks to everyone who entered the 5-Line Short Story and we hope you enjoyed the story itself. We'll be launching another online short story competition soon (in fact, we'll be launching 5 of them at the same time!) so keep looking - and keep your ideas coming!
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