Here’s a tiny story I wrote. Only publishing it here. Thanks for reading it!
The school bus made of fire stopped at the stops to pick up the children. One by one the kids all got on. The flames caught them in a bright orange embrace and as they sat down an incredible sky-blue glow formed around each young body.
As usual, none of the kids or parents screamed. It would take much worse than this to bend them out of shape; the children were, after all, made of glass: tempered, stained, bullet-proof.
The school bus drove across the snowy town of steel and brick. The children bounced along warm and bright, looking around with clear eyes, fearing nothing. Already they were trading stories. Your Dad said what? Your Mom hit who?