Murder on the Line

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Take a short ride on the Green Line inside the head of one of its riders. You'll want to know why he's there, you'll shudder when you find out why, and you'll be horrified when you discover his ultimate destination.

Thriller / Mystery
Chris Davis
Age Rating:

Chapter 1


We’ve been in Indianapolis two weeks now. It’s usually exciting to go to a new place. I’ve been in Phoenix and New Orleans in the last year, and while they were hot as fuck, they were a lot of fun. I can’t find a single positive thing about this place, though. It’s winter, and it’s so fucking gray. Except for the people who live around us here in Midtown, they’re white as can be.

The city has a football team, but they’re the definition of milquetoast. I know because I just learned that word last week. My dad says it’ll be better once I make some friends, but I’ve yet to find anyone that doesn’t listen to the kind of music they play inside Starbuck’s or even knows who the starting point guard for the Suns is.

That’s why I’m standing on a bus platform talking to myself about how much I hate this place. There’s a bum sleeping in the corner. I don’t know how he’s still alive...if he’s still alive. I have on a pair of khakis, a sweater, coveralls, and a ski mask pulled down over my face, and I still can’t feel anything above my ankles.

Woah, I barely heard that bus pulling up on me. They call it the green line. The yuppies in this part of the city like to take the electric buses downtown to cigar bars, but other than that there’s hardly ever a face in the windows..

Would you look at that? There are four whole people on here today. The bus driver is a Rastafarian-lookin’ fella. He barely acknowledged me getting on before he swung the door shut again, must be freezing this far from the islands. The rest of these people were not prepared for a black guy to step on with a full mask over his face. The brunette to my right probably already has 9 and 1 typed into her iPhone.

I’m on a mission today, I’ll try not to spook anyone. The bus is moving, and I’m not even in my seat yet. This damn thing really is fast.

Let’s see who I’m riding with today. Don’t worry, I won’t actually talk to them. That would be boring. No, it’s a lot more fun to just imagine how fucked up these people are.

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Further Recommendations

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More Recommendations

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