Eerie Oddities

The Ghost Route

It was a dark and rainy evening when Clara first saw the bus. She had been waiting at the quiet street corner, her coat pulled tight around her, the chill of the night creeping into her bones. The bus schedule said the last bus for the night had already come and gone, but as the clock ticked past midnight, a shadowy shape appeared down the road, its headlights cutting through the mist.It was strange. The bus looked... different. Not like the usual city bus she took, but older, worn down. The windows were clouded, and the body of the vehicle was rusted in spots, giving it a haunted, neglected appearance. Despite the late hour, the bus stopped right in front of her, the doors creaking open with a groan.Clara hesitated. The driver, a man with pale skin and dark circles under his eyes, stared straight ahead. He didn't speak, just waited. There were no other passengers, no sounds except for the relentless pattering of rain against the pavement."Are you heading downtown?" Clara asked, her voice tentative.The driver didn't answer. He just nodded once, then gestured to the empty seats. Clara felt a strange, irrational pull to get on, as if she had no choice. The bus loomed before her, and the storm seemed to intensify, the wind howling through the streets.Against her better judgment, Clara stepped on.As she took her seat, the bus lurched into motion, its engine groaning as it picked up speed. She glanced around. The bus was empty—completely empty. The dull overhead lights flickered, casting long shadows over the seats. The air inside smelled damp, like mildew, and there was a strange, musty heaviness to it. Outside, the world was a blur of rain and darkness, the streets unfamiliar. The route was supposed to pass her usual stop, but she saw nothing she recognized. The buildings were decaying, the roads cracked and uneven. It didn't make sense. She must've missed her stop, but she couldn't remember getting on the bus at all.She glanced at the driver again, but his face remained emotionless, his hands gripping the steering wheel with unnerving stillness. His eyes never left the road, as though he were looking at something Clara couldn't see. "Where are we going?" Clara finally asked, her voice strained.The driver's mouth twitched slightly, but he said nothing. Instead, the bus continued, turning down roads she knew she had never seen before, each street more desolate than the last. The windows were now fogged, and the world outside was disappearing, replaced by a thick, black mist that clung to the glass like something alive.Suddenly, the bus stopped.Clara looked out the window. There was nothing but a stretch of abandoned buildings—decaying, empty shells of what had once been homes. The streets were eerily quiet, not a single sound of life. She turned to the driver again, but this time, he was no longer behind the wheel. The seat was empty.Her pulse raced. She stood, looking for an exit, but the doors wouldn't open. She pounded on the windows, screamed for help, but no sound escaped her. The bus was locked in place, a prison on wheels. The lights flickered again, and the world outside seemed to close in.And then she saw them.Figures, ghostly and translucent, appeared in the streets beyond the windows—pale, shadowy forms drifting in and out of the mist. They were walking, their eyes empty, their movements slow and aimless. Clara's breath caught in her throat. They weren't real. They couldn't be. But when the figure closest to the window turned and stared directly at her, Clara's heart froze.It was her.She saw herself—pale, hollow-eyed, a version of herself she didn't recognize. She stood motionless outside the bus, her face expressionless, her mouth opening as if trying to speak. But no sound came. Instead, the figure reached out toward the window, its hand pressing against the glass.Clara stumbled back, her hands shaking. *This isn't real*, she thought, but the dread that gripped her felt too real to ignore.Then, the doors clicked open.Clara hesitated, her mind racing. She couldn't stay here. She had to leave. She had to get off the bus. Without thinking, she ran out onto the street, the ghostly figure still watching her. The fog swallowed her as she sprinted down the desolate road, the sounds of her footsteps muffled by the thick mist.But the world around her was wrong. The buildings were crumbling, the streets twisted in impossible angles. She ran for what felt like hours, but the fog never lifted. No matter how far she went, she found herself right back where she started.The bus was waiting.It was always waiting.Clara turned back, but the driver was there again, standing at the door, his empty eyes fixed on her. He didn't need to speak. The message was clear.The bus never left.And neither did she.