Twelve years I've been driving buses, like my pa, and his pa before him. When all that new-fangled technology took over the skies and the rich started driving round in blimps just cos they didn't want to mingle with the masses, I knew my job was more important than ever. For all those old ladies, stooped like wilting flowers, shuffling onboard with their handbags clutched to their chests. For those lads working down at the docks, all bleary-eyed from their overtime, coughing clouds of dust wherever they sit. And for all those hyperactive kids, racing round the city, faster than any fancy blimp, eyes wide to all the wonders London has to offer.

I'll be honest, I thought I'd seen them all.

Until the green boy climbed onboard.

It was late, the sun blinking out on the horizon, but this boy had his cloak pulled taut over his face. That's why I noticed him. You always get a few unsavoury characters these days, spooking the other passengers. So I asked him to remove it, to show me his face.

The little bugger sighed, as if all this was just wasting his time. Then he threw back his hood and-

I gasped - I couldn't help it - his whole face was green, with scales climbing the left side of his face and eyes with thin pupils, like a snake's. His lip curled, exposing the briefest flash of pointy teeth. I've never seen anything like it in all my life.

And I never want to see anything like it again.

'Change?' he prompted, casting out his scaly palm. 'You owe me a sovereign.'

'R-right,' I stutter, counting the coins in trembling hands, 'there you go.'

The boy huffed from his nostrils, traipsing to the back of the bus, favouring his right leg.

I turned back to the wheel and gripped it tight enough to forget my hands had ever shook.