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Bus stop

Horror story

By Ajda TomšičPublished 3 months ago 3 min read

This entire ordeal happened during the winter of the year I turned 17. At the time, a significant part of my weekly routine involved heading to the local gym to keep fit and healthy. I'd diligently commit to working out three to four times each week, followed by an uneventful ride back home on the public bus. However, on this particular Sunday, my routine took an unexpected turn. I had just wrapped up an intense workout session only to find out that I had narrowly missed the bus. Given it was Sunday, the buses ran on a less frequent schedule, compelling me to wait for the next one.

I would have reached out to my parents to pick me up, but they had plans that evening and were not available. Taxis were an option, albeit an expensive one, especially since their fares surged during such inclement weather. Weighing my options, I decided that the most practical choice was to simply endure the wait at the bus shelter. As darkness began to descend, a light snowfall added a frosty layer to the scene, and the chill in the air intensified. The bus was unusually late, perhaps due to the snowy conditions slowing traffic. To pass the time and distract myself from the cold, I pulled out my phone and began scrolling through my playlist, finding solace in some music.

As time ticked on, the bus was still nowhere in sight, and after nearly an hour, not a soul had passed by the shelter. The isolation was palpable in the biting cold night air. It was then, from the periphery of my vision, I detected a movement that disturbed the stillness of the evening. A man, garments bulking from multiple layers meant to shield against the cold, was approaching the shelter with a slow, unsteady gait. He had an unsettling presence that raised immediate alarms in my mind. To avoid provoking him, I consciously avoided making eye contact and kept my focus locked on my phone.

He entered the shelter and positioned himself at the opposite end of the bench, but I could feel his gaze boring into me. Something about his demeanor suggested he was not in a clear state of mind; he could have been under the influence of alcohol or perhaps drugs. Breaking the uneasy silence, he questioned, "When is the bus due?" I cautiously removed an earbud, responded that the bus seemed delayed by the snowy weather, and quickly returned to my feigned preoccupation with my phone. He continued to stare intently before beginning to mutter to himself, the incomprehensible words doing little to ease the growing tension.

Minutes dragged by, and with each passing second, I sensed him edging incrementally closer. I dared to glance up again, confirming my suspicions. Fueled by instinctual unease, I confronted him, "You okay there?" He offered no coherent reply but instead made a move towards me, his eyes glazed and unfocused. Reacting instinctively, I scooped up my gym bag and sprinted away just as he staggered forward and collapsed to the ground. My heart pounded as I ran without looking back until I reached the next bus stop down the road.

I sat down on the bench at the new stop, breathing heavily and trying to compose myself. I allowed myself a moment of rest, leaning against the bus shelter's glass, when suddenly an unmistakable series of knocks shattered the quiet. I spun around to find the same man, his face obscured by the frosted glass, his presence now more menacing than before. Upon realizing the intent behind his movements, panic surged through me. My voice echoed into the night, a stark warning for him to maintain his distance. I wanted to flee, but my bag, with all my belongings, lay just inside the shelter. As the situation escalated, he made a sudden lunge in my direction. I sidestepped just in time; he missed and hit the pavement hard.

In the aftermath, I was rooted to the spot, shocked and shaken, as I saw blood began to pool around his face. I attempted to elicit a response from him but to no avail. Without delay, I contacted emergency services. The police and paramedics were on the scene in short order. I relayed the harrowing events of the evening to them, and after some investigation, they discovered the man was heavily medicated with prescription drugs. A photograph found in his wallet displayed him with a young boy who bore a striking resemblance to me, leading to the chilling realization that in his confused state, he may have mistaken me for his son. It came to light that the man had been involved in a bitter custody battle, which he lost, resulting in a tragic downward spiral.

Following this incident, I made it a priority to acquire my driver's license. The memory of that night lingered, and the experience left a lasting impression that has deterred me from ever setting foot on a bus again.


About the Creator

Ajda Tomšič

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  • Test3 months ago

    This is one of the most well-written horror story I've ever read.

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