The Circle Line

I’d driven a bus for thirty years

At least, for more than a spell,

But now I was getting on a bit

And I wasn’t feeling well.

I’d taken a couple of sickies off

Well, more than I used to do,

And told the boss I would be okay,

It was just a dose of the flu.

 

But a note was waiting when I got back

All typed on a letterhead,

The company logo was large and black

And gave me a sense of dread.

I had to report to the man upstairs,

Way up on the twentieth floor,

I’d never been past the tenth for years,

Or called to account before.

 

I couldn’t afford to lose my job,

Cut off at my time of life,

How would I pay the mortgage, then

Explain myself to the wife?

But I took the lift as I had to do,

And stood at a big black door,

Shivered there as I felt the chill

In the long, dark corridor.

 

A voice said ‘Come!’ and I wandered in

To an office of oak and teak,

The air was heavy with sandalwood

And I waited for him to speak.

He shuffled the papers on his desk

And his eyes flashed red, like fire,

‘You’ve been a driver for thirty years,

Perhaps it’s time to retire?’

 

My heart dropped into my boots at that,

I babbled that I was fine,

I couldn’t retire for ten more years

If it pleased, I’d do my time.

He raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips

And I shook in my shoes with dread,

‘We’ll have to give you an easier route

On The Circle Line, instead.’

 

I’d heard bad things of the Circle Line

That the drivers didn’t last,

I’d seen so many that came and went

On The Circle Line in the past.

‘That’s it, it’s either The Circle Line

Or…’  (the rest he left unsaid),

I thanked him quickly and turned to leave,

Relieved of my former dread.

 

The lift shot down to the basement where

There waited a big black bus,

A tall conductor approached me then:

‘I see that you’re joining us!’

I took my seat and I drove it out,

The conductor pointed the way,

‘There’s only twenty-one stops to make,

Just twenty-one stops today!’

 

We made a stop at the hospital

And the staff there loaded two,

Then carried on to the city jail

Where a man’s parole was due,

They seemed subdued when they climbed aboard

And nobody even spoke,

Each face was pale as they held the rail,

They seemed to be anxious folk.

 

The route was finished within the hour

And I said to the man, ‘Now where?’

He pointed out a lake on the map,

‘We’re dropping them all down there.’

I drove us into a quarry that

Was sitting beside the lake,

And found a monstrous entranceway

To a cave, he said, ‘Now brake!’

 

A light was dancing, there in the cave,

Was flickering light and dark,

I said, ‘Is that a fire in there?’

He answered, ‘Merely a spark!’

He pushed the passengers off the bus

And led them into the cave,

To those that tried to resist, he said,

‘It’s a better place than the grave!’

 

The panic hit me as panic does

When you get a glimpse of the truth,

I may be old but I catch on fast,

Not like when I was a youth.

The bus I drove had a seven up

In front of the sign, as well,

And then I knew that the Circle Line

Was the Seventh Circle of Hell!’

 

I took the bus in a squealing turn

And I drove right out of the pit,

I left that tall conductor behind

For he was just part of it.

I dropped the bus in the nearby lake

And I walked back home to the wife,

A job’s a job, but I’d rather take

A little bit more of life.

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[A Soap Mess Stories]

Another fine tale, David....

[Avinash]

The ending mesmerized and the conclusion made the perfect sense. We are here to have life not be part of hell.
I take it as a great advice.

[Raymond Federle]

A true masterpiece my friend!! EXCELLENT!!!!!

[roarke]

YEAH!!!!! This was a great ride David, solid stuff top to bottom. The tone of the bus driver fit perfectly and the idea of the circle route very fresh and original. So then, ... it's no gold watch for the old boy eh? Enjoyed immensely.

[Marie]

An excellent and chilling poem. I didn't catch on at first to the seven up in front of the sign; then I was able to connect it with the Seventh Circle of Hell. If T.M. could hear you read it out loud, she'd soon see how the rythm works

[David Lewis Paget]

As I've pointed out to Taylor, there is sometimes a difference in pronunciation between British and American speakers, and this may be the source of contention. Thanks Marie.

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

A telling and brisk story, one reads the flow easily and with a snag here and there, well done, good read.

[Lyn Anderson]

A wonderful story, and personally, I feel there are a few spots to rework the rhythm as well. But as always, poetic license prevails.

[Taylor_McCutcheon]

I liked this story but some of the lines rhythm was off a bit. Try reading it out loud and see where the rhythm falters a bit. Great poem

[Becky C Strukamp]

A tale only David could tell with style and grace. You entertain your readers from beginning to end. We hang on each word awaiting the next knowing we're in for the ride. A masterful poet and story teller!!