Tales from the Dark

8.

It was a cold, foggy evening as Sarah waited at the deserted bus stop. She had missed her last bus home after staying late at school for a project. Her phone was dead, and the only light came from the flickering streetlamp above.
When the bus finally rumbled into view, Sarah sighed with relief. The old, rusty vehicle creaked as it came to a halt. The door swung open with a groan, revealing an elderly driver with hollow eyes and a strange, unsettling smile.
"Evening," he said in a raspy voice. "Hop on."
Sarah, too tired to think twice, stepped inside. The bus was empty except for one passenger—a man with a wide-brimmed hat and a long, dark coat. His face was obscured by shadows, but Sarah could feel his gaze on her.
As the bus lurched into motion, Sarah noticed the scenery outside was changing unnaturally. What was once a familiar route home was now an endless stretch of fog and twisted trees. The road seemed to stretch on forever.
She tried to ignore the growing unease in her chest, but the temperature inside the bus dropped suddenly. Her breath fogged up, and she could see her own shivering reflection in the window. The man with the hat leaned closer, and Sarah could see his eyes now—cold, dead, and empty.
The bus jolted to a stop. The driver turned around, his smile now a grotesque grimace. "This is your stop," he said.
Confused and frightened, Sarah stepped off the bus into the thick fog. The fog enveloped her, and she turned back to see the bus had vanished. The streetlight flickered and went out, plunging her into darkness. The only sound was the distant, haunting whistle of the wind.
Suddenly, a chill ran down her spine. She realized she was no longer alone. Shadows moved around her, whispering in a language she didn't understand. Sarah tried to call out, but her voice was swallowed by the oppressive fog.
In the distance, she saw a flickering light, barely visible through the mist. Desperate, she moved towards it, hoping it was another bus or a streetlamp. But as she got closer, she saw that the light was actually the dim, ghostly glow of the streetlamp at her original bus stop.
Panic set in as she realized she was back where she started. The bus had never really left; it had simply taken her on a loop through the fog. The door creaked open once more, but no driver was inside. The bus sat there, waiting for her to get back on.
Sarah didn't know whether to laugh or scream. The bus was an eternal trap, and she had become a part of its endless cycle. She looked around desperately, but the fog swallowed all hope, leaving only the oppressive silence and the distant, mocking echoes of her own fears.