A short, spooky story I wrote while on a bus. Enjoy :)
It started out like any other Friday night. I’d just got off a late shift and had made plans to meet up with some of my girlfriends at our favourite bar to blow off some steam.
Looking back on it, I swear there was nothing different about this bus from any other I had taken in the city. No signs of decay or indication that it might be sinister in any way.
I do remember noticing that there weren't many passengers on board, though that wasn't quite that unusual considering I worked until 9:00 p.m. and most normal people had already gone home to their families at that point.
So I sat down and waited to hear the intercom announce my stop, as I would any other night.
But it never came.
This isn't my usual bus, but it is one that I have taken quite a few times before, so I was sure that my stop should have come already.
I pulled out my phone to check and see if the bus route had changed, but was met with empty bars flashing at the top of my screen. No service.
At this point, I was still trying to rationalize everything. In my rush to meet my friends for a drink, I must have got on the wrong bus, and we were probably just driving through a dead zone. I resolved to get off at the next stop and find my way back from there.
The next stop never came.
I waited and waited for the bus to stop, going as far as to get up and try to talk to the driver, convince him to let me off anyway.
But there was no driver. Now, I was sure there had been a driver to greet me when I got on the bus, and we hadn't stopped, so I do not know where he went.
Silence filled the air as I sat down, and my situation hit me.
It was only broken by the robotic voice of the intercom calling out the names of the stops, becoming more and more distorted as time went on.
After a while, I noticed that the stops were not even proper names any more. They were just the suffixes. Street, Park, Avenue, Place, Alley, Lane, Drive…
I tried pulling the emergency exit, but it was stuck. Screaming and banging on the windows did nothing, and I had nothing to break them with.
I was alone, and there was no one coming for me.
I sat in those dingy and stained seats, staring out into the empty blackness of night.
I assumed there were still houses out there, though I could not see them. There was no light, be it from houses or straight lamps. Nothing but the ever-expansive inky darkness. It was as if someone had covered up the windows from the outside. The only thing I saw was my own face staring back at me in fear and resigned horror.
After the fifth hour, my phone died and I could no longer check the time.
I did not grow hungry or thirsty. I did not get tired and though I tried to sleep, it would not come.
There was no relief from the imposing darkness outside and the dry, stuffy air within that bus.
I do not know how long I sat there, staring into nothing. It could have been hours, days, or even weeks.
But then I heard it, the sound of my street being called and the bus slowly rolling to a jolting stop. Passengers whom I was sure had never been there before shied past, and in a daze, I got up, and I left with them.
I stood out there on that street, taking in gulp after gulp of the cold night air in an attempt to ground myself.
A buzz came from my pocket and when I pulled it out I saw a text from my friends asking if I was on my way. None of this made sense I was sure my phone had died hours ago, and I knew there was no one on that bus, I checked.
With trembling hands and shaking fingers, I typed out a reply and hurried down the block to the bar.
No one believed me when I told them what happened. They all thought I was crazy or on drugs. Maybe the stress had finally gotten to me.
But I'm not crazy. I'm not.
I know what I saw and had felt the stale air in my lungs and the echoing madness of that empty bus driving on and on and on into the night.
…
I haven't taken the bus again after that. Sure, it takes longer to get where I need to, but I'd rather walk or spill a bit extra cash on an Uber than risk going back.
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