The Dark Somnium - The Strange Rules for The Night Bus

Episode Date: January 7, 2023

This creepypasta scary story is from the creepypasta website, written by Woundlicker. make sure to checkout the original story and support the author! Let me know what you think of these Rules horror stories and if you would like to see more!  Check out the authors book:  https://mybook.to/HarshWorlds--- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/darksomnium/message Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

The first time I caught the night bus was pure chance. I'd heard the legends, of course, we all had. Urban legends are a big thing where I live. I suspect it's partly because I hail from an unremarkable and frankly dull provincial city that has little else going on. Kids growing up around here don't have much to do, and so their imaginations tend to run wild, with escapism being all the rage. My friends and I were obsessed with urban legends during our formative years,

gobbling up tales whispered in the playgrounds, and later posted by anonymous users on online forums. We found the legends both frightening and exhilarating, bringing excitement to our otherwise boring lives. It would be fair to say that I was quite naive back then. Some of my friends were more cynical, but I truly believed them all. The vanishing hitchhiker of Spencer Street, the Southside Trollman, and the White Lady of Croft Manor were a few of my favorites.

My friends and I took on the role of amateur sleuths, investigating every sight and searching for any evidence of these legendary cryptids and otherworldly entities. To my extreme disappointment, we found nothing, no ghosts or ghouls, no monsters, and no signs of anything out of the ordinary. Eventually I too became cynical, concluding that all such legends were just childish nonsense, and I was wasting my time pursuing them. The last bus was another of the local myths that we'd heard, growing up, and I'd assumed it was fake like all the others, but now I know better.

Officially, the last bus out of the city center leaves at a quarter to midnight from the bus depot on High Street. That's the bus which sensible people catch if they want to get home safely after a night out on the town. The pubs and clubs close at 1 a.m., and the crowd of drunken revelers pile onto the streets, fighting for taxis, lining up for late-night cababs, attempting a last-minute hookup, or calling up friends in search of all-night house parties. It's the same chaotic scene every Friday and Saturday night.

Usually, there are a couple of fights and a few people who will injure themselves by falling over drunk on the pavement. It's all depressingly predictable. The police will be called out, as will the ambulance crews, and eventually the crowds will disperse, as an eerie silence returns to the darkened streets. Then we enter the twilight hours, when all sensible and law-abiding citizens are at home, safely tucked up in their beds. After hours, the streets are left to the vulnerable,

like the homeless with nowhere else to go, forced to seek shelter and shop doorfronts, wrapping their cold bodies and old sleeping bags and praying that they make it through the night. Then there are the predators, the one that your mother warned you about, the gangs of bugs who patrol the streets, their blood up as they search for a victim to violently attack,

and the predatory men who lurk in the shadows, watching for vulnerable women who they can pray upon. On a Monday morning, you'll read the stories in the local newspaper. The homeless man beaten to a pulp. The young girl sexually assaulted in a back alley, police will open investigations and appeal for witnesses. Sometimes they'll catch the perpetrators, other times they won't. You'll have sympathy for the victims,

but secretly feel relieved that it didn't happen to you or somebody you know. In these cases, the culprits are human monsters, made of flesh and bone, and not the otherworldly fiends I tried to chase. During my cynical years, I believed these human predators were the worst things out there, that they owned the twilight hours before the dawn. But I was wrong. There are far worse things that lurk in the shadows. The first occasion I caught the night bus came during a difficult time for me.

I'd just turned 21 and had split up with my partner of two years. Looking back, I now see how the breakup was the best thing for both of the first. of us, but at the time I was devastated and so angry. My friends had taken me for a night out on the town, in the hope it would cheer me up. A nice idea, but unfortunately, it didn't work out that way. I drink way too much, starting out on the beers and moving on to shots of hard liquor. We went to a club where I made several embarrassing and unsuccessful attempts to hook up. As if that wasn't bad enough, I then started a fight with my best friend, throwing a big friend.

punch at him before I got thrown out of the club by the doorman and foolishly decided to walk the streets alone in a drunken stupor. I somehow managed to avoid getting beaten up or falling on my face and cracking my head on the pavement. Instead, I managed to stagger to a bus shelter, not realizing in my inebriated state that the official bus service had finished for the night, and there wouldn't be another one due until morning. I remember laying down to rest on the bench, and I must have passed out, because I woke up several hours later and saw the streets were empty. I was all alone, or so I thought. My heart almost

jumped out of my chest when I saw the old bus driving down the street towards me, emitting black smoke from its exhaust pipe as it came, its noisy engine interrupting the previous quiet. The vehicle was partially illuminated by the streetlights, although I noted with some concern how the lamps flickered as the bus drove by them. The vehicle looked like a throwback to the 1960s. The kind of the kind of of ancient tin can on wheels you'd expect to see at a classic car show. Unlike the modern vehicles were used to, those that glide along the street quietly, this old rust bucket rattled along, noisily looking as if it could break down at any moment, but instead it kept coming, driving down the empty road and coming ever closer to my shelter.

I noted how there were no emblems or motifs painted on the side of the bus, and no destination name was shown above its front windscreen. The vehicle's exterior was painted all in black, and even the windows were tinted, meaning I cannot see who or what was inside. I felt a cold chill run down my spine as I recalled the details I'd heard about the last bus legend. One of those I'd read and studied during my youth. The vehicle I was seeing before me matched the description of the one in the stories, the phantom

bus that appears on an abandoned street in the early hours, offering rides to the weary and needy. I came close to panic in that moment, wondering whether I was dreaming or suffering a paranoid delusion. I'd spent so much of my youth chasing these legends, searching for any evidence that could prove the existence of something outside our own reality. But now that the truth was staring me in the face, a big part of me wanted to just up and run away. I couldn't tell if I was excited or terrified. But I held my ground and waited for the bus to come to me. I stood up on my shaking feet as the bus pulled in beside my shelter, and despite the amount of alcohol I'd consumed, I suddenly felt quite sober.

It seemed to take forever for the vehicle to park and for the creaking door to swing open. When it did, I was confronted by a friendly middle-aged man wearing a neat blue uniform while he sat behind the wheel, driving his bus to an unspecified location. He smiled down at me, his eyes twinkling in a welcoming fashion. Then he opened his mouth and spoke in a soft, almost fatherly tone of voice, saying, Good evening, my friend. Are you coming on board? I'd heard about the enigmatic driver before, but nevertheless, his appearance and whole demeanor took me off guard.

I struggled to find the words to respond, stuttering my way through my reply. Where will you take me? I inquired nervously. Home. The driver responded with a word. reassuring smile. I'll take you home, eventually. But life isn't about the destination.

It's about the journey. Sometimes you need to take a leap of faith. So what do you say, my young friend? Will you ride with us? I'll admit to being scared in that moment, terrified in fact. Somehow I realized how important this was, how the decision I made right then could shape the rest of my life. I didn't know exactly what would await me if I got on board, but I didn't know exactly what would await

me if I got on board, but I had a good idea, and it was terrifying. But if I walked away, I would never discover the truth. And so, I took a deep breath, plucked up my courage, and stepped onto the bus, seeing the driver's smile as the door shut firmly behind me. When I saw the driver up close, I sensed something sinister about him and instantly started regretting my decision. But by then, it was too late. That was the first time I rode the night bus. Over the years, I've been on it three times in total, living to tell my tale on each occasion.

Catching the Phantom Bus isn't as easy as you would imagine. There's no set of rules that you can follow, no set time or location. I don't know whether it's sheer chance or if the bus itself chooses the passengers. I have, however, been able to piece together common threads, using both my own experiences and those of others who've made the journey. We have an online forum which we use to tell our stories and exchange. information. It's an issue of safety as much as anything else. The night bus can be lethal if you don't keep your wits about you. Having accumulated this knowledge over the number of years,

I will now share it with you here. Once you step on board at the bus, you'll see rows of hard-back seats stretching back to the rear of the vehicle's interior. There's nothing unusual about this, at least not at first glance. You'll see other passengers, too, but you mustn't engage with them at this point, and don't look them in the eye. Take a seat on an empty bench somewhere toward the front of the bus. It doesn't really matter where exactly. They will come to you in their own time. The journey itself can last for hours, or at least that's what it will seem like when you're on board. You can see out the windows from the inside and look upon the scenery, such as it is. Initially, you will see familiar sights, city-center streets, buildings,

and businesses that you'll recognize. Nevertheless, you'll soon realize that something isn't quite right with the scene. The streets will be totally abandoned, with no traffic or pedestrians anywhere to be seen. There won't be any businesses open or lights emanating from anywhere along the road. The further you drive out from the city center, the more bizarre the sights you will encounter. Soon, the tidy streets and well-maintained buildings will give way to urban decay, crumbling structures and ruins, like those of a lost city forgotten to time. Eventually, the bus will leave the city behind and enter what appears to be a dense forest.

The narrow road you will follow will be shrouded in darkness, with the only illumination coming from the vehicle's bright headlights. If you glance into the woods on the other side of the road, you will occasionally catch a glimpse of shadows moving behind the tree line, strange figures and unidentified animals with glowing red eyes glaring through the darkness. You'll see these unnerving creatures for only the briefest of seconds as the bus drives through, and then they'll be gone. At first you'll think it's just your fertile imagination playing tricks on you.

But deep down, you'll know that there's something evil lurking in those woods. By this point in the journey, it should become clear that you're no longer in the realm of the living. I don't know where the bus takes you, but I do know it is not wise to stare out the windows for too long. What lurks out there can drive you mad. And besides, your focus should be on those inside the bus, as they pose the more immediate threat. My fellow online sleuths and I think of the passengers as lost souls.

It seems certain that they are no longer part of the world of the living. There's something lacking in them, an important piece that is missing. Once you talk to them, and they will engage with you, whether you want them to or not, You'll see the sadness in their empty, dead eyes. They'll want to latch onto you because you have what they want, life. That's why it's so important that you follow the rules. Don't let them get inside your head, whatever you do. There are six entities you're likely to encounter once you set foot upon the bus, all of whom

have their own unique traits and tricks which they'll attempt to use against you. Based on the shared experiences of our forum members, I have pieced together a description of each of these otherworldly entities. Firstly, there's the driver, whose physical description I've already covered. The driver's first job is to get you on board, and that's why he'll appear to be so friendly and welcoming, enticing you to take a ride on his bus. However, once the door shuts behind you and the bus starts moving, you'll see the driver's smile falter ever so slightly as he breaks eye contact and focuses on the road.

Despite this, the driver is a benign figure who plays a small but important role in the events which follow. His job, from this point forward, is to simply drive. And he does keep his promise to you. He will bring you home, eventually, assuming you don't fall foul of any of the spirits during the drive. Like I said, the journey will seem to last for hours, but when he drops you off at your home street back in our realm, no time will have passed whatsoever. He lets you off, smiling once again, and saying, Have a nice evening. Hope to see you again soon. And you'll be left standing on the pavement outside of your home, bewildered and in a state of shocked disbelief as you watch the Phantom Bus drive down the road before it inexplicably vanishes at the end of your street. After the driver, the first

passenger you're likely to notice is the party girl. This is an attractive young woman who appears to be in her early to mid-20s. Her physical appearance will change on each occasion. Sometimes her hair will be brunette and other times blonde. Likewise, her skin complexion can either be pale or dark depending upon the beholder. What's consistent is how she's made up and dressed, donning a cocktail dress and high heels and carrying a designer handbag. Her fragrance is sweet and enticing, but you may also smell a hint of alcohol on her breath. You'll note how her mascara has run, indicating she has been crying.

Nevertheless, there is something in her deep and expressive eyes which will draw you in, an inner beauty and vulnerability that plays on your emotions. It's worth noting that you will be attracted to the young woman, in spite of your gender or usual sexual preference. You'll be unable to take your eyes off her and will feel compelled to take a seat close to her. The party girl will engage you during the early stages of the journey, distracting you from the bizarre sights outside of the bus's windows.

At first, she'll be flirted. and fun, asking you about yourself and talking about her night out. But soon, the conversation will take on a darker tone, and the girl tells you about a tragic event from her past, childhood abuse, a violent ex-partner, or the death of a loved one. The story will vary each time, but will always be one of sadness and suffering. Your heart will go out to her, even if you're not usually an empathetic person. Once she's told you her woeful tale, a young woman will ask you to go home. with her to give her some comfort.

You will be tempted, but under no circumstances should you agree to go with her. It's critical that you remember what she is and what she really wants from you. My advice is to politely decline her offer without causing her undue suffering. The party girl may be a lost soul, but by all accounts, she still feels human emotions. She won't be angry when you reject her, but instead will sob softly into her hands. You'll feel guilty, but you must move on and switch seats, leaving the poor girl to her misery. The next passenger you'll encounter sits a couple of rows behind the party girl. We call her the OAP, or the pensioner.

She's an elderly woman in her 80s, her white hair and curls, wearing a shawl and a heavy winter coat, and with a shopping car on wheels parked under her seat. Her face is wrinkled, and the perfume she wears is quite overbearing, but the OAP has kind eyes and a sweet motherly smile. She'll remind you of an elderly relative, like a grandmother or great-aunt, and you'll feel an affection towards her. A woman of her age and appearance is the last person you'd expect to find riding a bus during the early hours of the morning, and yet, here she is, another lost soul trapped on a journey that never ends. The OAP will speak with you in a kindly, wholesome fashion, asking about your life and family, while also entertaining

you with anecdotes from her long and interesting life. You truly will feel at ease talking with her, but you mustn't forget what she really is. The conversation will end with the woman asking you to accompany her home to help her with shopping or something like that. She'll offer to prepare you something to eat, your favorite meal or snack, whatever that may be, and she'll offer to put you up for the night. Again, you'll be tempted, but you must say no. On this occasion, it doesn't matter how politely you refuse her offer.

Whatever you say or do, she will react with absolute fury, screaming every obscenity under the sun as her face screws up in anger. It's the last thing you would expect from a seemingly sweet old lady, but this is what will happen. As soon as she launches into her hateful tirade, you should leave your seat and move further down the bus, and you would be wise not to engage with her again for the rest of the journey. The next passenger you'll meet is a scruffy, middle-aged man known as the drunkard. He sits close to the back of the bus and is perhaps the type you would expect to find on a late-night service. I wouldn't recommend sitting too close to the drunkard, if only because he smells pretty bad,

his breath stinking of alcohol and cigarettes. You'll know how his old clothes are soiled and torn and his unkempt beard will be badly matted. You probably won't wish to engage with him, but the drunkard will begin a conversation with you regardless, and against your better judgment, you'll be able to be able to be able to. get drawn in. The drunkard will turn out to be surprisingly intelligent and insightful, seeking to educate you on such matters as religion, philosophy, and scientific theory. He'll tell you a story in the form of a parable or fable, one with a dark twist to it. When I first met the drunk, he recounted to me the tale of the frog and the scorpion, one that demonstrates the cruel

and destructive nature of life. Next, he'll remove a silver hip flask from the inside of his jacket pocket and offer you a drink. Regardless of your alcoholic preferences, you'll be tempted to take a sip. The drink will smell sweet and inviting, but of course, you must refuse him. After you turn down the drink, the drunkard will shoot you an angry look before shaking his head and saying, You're a damn fool, a stupid child. You have no idea what you're dealing with. This is your cue to move on. Now, you'll notice how the first three passengers are trying to draw in, using whatever charms or supernatural powers they have at their disposal.

Their ultimate goal is to trick you into leaving the bus. Needless to say, you must not do this, not if you want to make it home. Nobody knows exactly what happens to those who fall into one of their traps. We do know that several members of our forum have vanished without a trace over the years, and my city has a long history of unexplained disappearances. The fourth passenger is different from the rest, however. He is a young male who sits on the back row whilst listening to headphones linked up to an 80-style walkman. We call him a headphones guy, and it seems all he does is listen to music.

His eyes closed as he taps his foot to the beat. The headphones guy will not attempt to engage with you or even acknowledge your presence. That's not to say he isn't dangerous, however. There was a member of our group who had a run in with the guy. To be fair, it wasn't unprovoked. Feeling bold, my friend got right up in the past Sender's face, waving his hands and clicking his fingers in an attempt to gain the spirit's attention.

When this failed, he foolishly grabbed the guy's headphones, physically pulling them off his head. Predictably, the headphone guy didn't react well to this violation. In an instant, he jumped up from his chair, lashing out with his fist and knocking his assailant down in one punch. My friend remembers a sharp, intense pain in the back of his head before he blacked out. The next thing he remembers is waking up in his own bed the next morning with a broken nose. and a nasty gash on the back of his head. He also found a note in his jeans pocket,

crudely written on the back of an old bus ticket in what looked like dried blood. It read, Do that again, I'll rip your head off. Unsurprisingly, my friend never rode the night bus again. I don't know what the headphone guy's deal is, but my advice is to leave him well alone. At this point, you're probably wondering

why one would wish to catch the night bus at all, given how you'll be transported to a terrifying alternate reality and encounter otherworldly spirits who wish to trap you there. Well, the short answer is that no sane person would, bar a handful of crazed urban adventurers and amateur paranormal investigators, such as myself. Most of us who have boarded the Phantom Bus have done so by accident, not realizing what they were getting themselves into until it was too late. And most of those who rode the bus once have no inclination to do so again.

But those of us who do seek out the Phantom Bus for a second or third, or, in my case, fourth occasion, well, we have our reasons. One reason, above all others, in fact, we want to see the Harbinger and ask him our one permitted question. I'll regret my first ride on the bus for the rest of my days. Although I was drunk, I had enough wits about me to see off the various tricks used by the ghouls, but I wasn't prepared for him. The Harbinger is the only passenger who isn't already riding on the bus when you first

got on. He comes later, after you've negotiated your way through the ghostly entities and you think the worst is behind you. The first thing you'll notice is the burning cross mounted on top of darkened hillside, overlooking the road on the left-hand side. I remember the first time I saw that foreboding symbol and the immense fear I felt as I knew something was coming. A moment after I spotted the cross, I was shocked to see the bus was slowing down, pulling over to the side of the road and parking up in a layby. Next, the driver operated the swing door at the front of the bus, opening it to whatever lay on the other side.

The terror almost overwhelmed me as I thought of the horrors that lurked within the shadowlands, of the creatures and demons hiding in the haunted woods and hillsides. I recall looking to the other passengers, somehow hoping these devious spirits would offer me some protection from whatever was coming, but instead their heads were down as they maintained a solemn silence. Realizing I was on my own, I glanced out the window to witness a sight which chilled me to the very bone. There was a small, covered shelter by the roadside, almost covered by overgrown vegetation, and only

just visible in the dim light, and, within this seemingly abandoned bus shelter, stood a tall, hooded figure, a sinister individual with his face covered and his considerable frame hidden underneath a long and dark robe. The mystery man remained still and silent, although I soon spotted the animal by his side, a large black dog that snarled aggressively through a snout filled with razor-sharp teeth, as it glared at me with hungry and predatory eyes, only a thin glass pain separating me from him. I imagine the hound breaking loose, ascending the steps and charging down the aisle, before burying its razor-sharp fangs into my soft flesh.

Thankfully, the dog's master retained control of his beast, although I was far from out of danger. I also noticed how hot and stifling it suddenly became, as an almost unbearable heat wave hit me. Meanwhile, the bus remained parked for what seemed like in eternity. Its door or ajar, as the driver waited to see whether his passenger would get on. Now, I've since learned that the hooded figure we call the harbinger will do what. one of two things at this point. Either he will remain rooted to the spot until eventually the driver will say something like, well, not tonight then, before he closes the door and drives on. From what I've been able to gather from both my experiences and those of my contemporaries,

this is what happens most of the time. Two times out of three, the Harbinger won't step out from the bus shelter, and that will be the end of it, but sometimes he will step forward, marching through the mud in his heavy boots while dragging his hellhound along on a leash, and he'll come on board the bus, gliding down the aisle with his faithful mutt following behind him, prompting the driver to say, Good evening, sir, I trust you'll have a pleasant journey. The harbinger will not answer. Instead, he'll take a seat near the front of the bus, pulling his hood down to reveal what lies underneath.

To this day, I can't fully explain what I saw in that terrifying moment. It seemed like there was only a dark void where his face should be, with two burning orbs instead of eyes. He had no mouth that I could see, and so by rights he shouldn't have been able to speak, and yet he did. Come, sit with me. He ordered. Come sit with me so we may speak.

As you can imagine, I was utterly terrified in this moment, so much so that I thought I might pass out, but for reasons I can't explain, I obeyed the harbid. Herbinger's orders, feeling like I physically cannot resist him, and as if my legs were no longer under my control. I remember looking to the other passengers as I walked down the aisle, hoping that one of them could help me, but each of the four kept their heads down as they muttered in unison, reciting a prayer in a language I cannot understand. It became obvious that the harbinger held power over these lost souls, and they were all trapped under his spell. Perhaps they were once like us, falling victim to the Phantom Bus and the Harbinger's godlike powers. In any event, they offered me no assistance in that fateful moment, and I soon realized I was completely at the Harbinger's mercy. I involuntarily took a seat in a row directly behind the Harbinger.

His head turned in an unnatural way to face me as his dog snarled aggressively in my direction, but thankfully resisted the urge to bite me in the leg. I can't really describe how the Harbinger smelt other than to say he stank of death. The fiery orbs he had instead of eyes stared right at me, and I couldn't look away, no matter how much I tried. I felt like I was on fire, my soul burning under his hateful glare. In my state of abject terror, I imagined what this monster might do to me. I reckoned he could kill me with ease, but this was the least of my fears. Instead, I believed I may become like the others, another anonymous lost soul, riding this damn

bust for all eternity. In any event, I was powerless to do anything in that moment other than remain frozen to my seat, waiting for the Harbinger to speak. Despite his absence of eyes, somehow I could tell he was looking down on me, but he considered me with total contempt like I was something he'd stepped on. To this day, I don't know whether he was speaking out loud. or if his voice was only in my head. Either way, I found myself totally transfixed as he spoke his words.

I see another mere mortal has found its way into my realm. He began. I assumed he was referring to me. I'll confess to having little time for your contemptible and weak race. Nevertheless, I must respect the bravery of the odd individuals such as yourself. Not many have the courage to come to this dark place. For this reason, I will grant you safe passage, and I will answer your one question. Ask me what you will.

Now, this is a moment I've replayed over and over again in my head over the years. I literally could have asked the Harbinger anything. The winning lottery numbers. Who killed JFK? The meaning of life. He sees and knows everything. and the possibilities are limitless. One of the guys on our forum asked the harbinger how he would die

and was told that his vices would kill him within six months. Well, this guy was an addict, but he laughed off the harbinger's warning and continued using. Six months later, he was dead from an overdose. And then there was a young woman who, at the time of her encounter with the harbinger, was stuck in an abusive and controlling relationship. She asked the entity what would happen if she stayed with her asshole boyfriend. Well, she was told her life would end unless she broke off the relationship. This proved to be the motivation she needed to leave him, and about a year later, the bastard

was arrested for murdering another girl and ultimately sentenced to life in prison. But of course, I didn't know any of this at the time. I felt nothing but pure terror as I sat frozen to my seat, quaking in my boots as the harbinger glared down upon me with disgust. In that chilling moment, I could only think of one question to ask. which I stuttered out from my trembling lips. What are you? I swore I could hear the creature scoff with contempt before he gave his answer.

My poor child, alas, you humans will never fully comprehend what I am and what I represent. Nevertheless, I owe you an answer, and I shall explain in the simplest of term, I see all from where I stand, and yet I have sworn not to intervene in the mortal realm. He paused momentarily, turning his burning orbs toward the darkened landscape outside the window. This world you see before me is my kingdom, my domain. I offer sanctuary to those who have nowhere else to go, giving a home to those lost souls trapped between the mortal and eternal realms. Perhaps you will come here one day and become a permanent resident of my dark realm, or perhaps not. You could have inquired after your ultimate fate, of course.

But you chose not to do so, but I have answered your one permitted question and fulfilled my obligation. And now, my child, I will bid you farewell. With that, he rose from his chair and summoned his hound, gliding down the aisle as he made for the exit. I was flabbergasted and in a state of shock. I still had so many questions to ask, and I opened my mouth without thinking. Wait! I called after him, instantly regretting my decision to speak. The Harbinger turned sharply, his orb-like eyes burning ever fiercer, his howl growling

as it bared its sharp teeth, pulling on its lead as it tried to get at me. When the Harbinger spoke again, his tone became angry and threatening. Indeed my warning, you tamble presence in my realm thus far. Do not test my patience. I can inflict pain upon you which goes beyond your worst nightmares. I will not hesitate to do so if you break my rules again. I felt all the blood drained from my face and my whole body shook uncontrollably as sheer terror overcame me. Needless to say, I did not utter another word.

Instead, I watched on in shocked awe as the harbinger glided down the aisle, dragging his snarling hellhound with him. The driver brought the bus to a slow halt to allow the godlike creature to disembark. I began to feel pangs of relief as I thought my ordeal was nearly over, but there was one last twist to his macabre episode. As the harbinger stepped off the bus, my fellow passengers suddenly shot up from their seats, all simultaneously turning in my direction. To my horror, I saw their eyes had turned jet black, and their mouths were wide open, revealing, gaping black holes. It seemed like they were trying to scream, and yet no sound was emitted. And then I saw what was lurking in the darkened woods on the other side of the road. Hundreds of fiery red eyes submerging from the tree line belonging to unholy beasts that howled like wolves in the night. Every one focused upon our bus. I screamed out in terror, fearing that the harbinger had changed his mind. mind and was summoning his hellish minions to tear me apart. The howling rapidly increased, becoming so loud that I was nearly deafened. What happened next remained something of a blur in my memory. I recall the horrific din and the pressure built up inside my head until I thought

my skull would explode. Suddenly, there was a blinding flash of light, forcing me to hide my eyes underneath my hands. A moment later, I opened my eyes again, only to discover that the beast had vanished, as had my ghoulish fellow passengers. I was the only one inside the bus, just me and the driver, as we continued down that lonely stretch of road. I have very little recollection of the rest of the journey. I don't think it was much longer before we left the dark realm and returned to the city streets I knew and recognized. When we arrived on my home street, I could not believe it, thinking it was another trick. I sat still in my seat for some time until eventually I needed to be prompted by the driver, who called out to me, saying,

Your stop, my friend. Come on now, please. I can't wait here all night. With some trepidation, I walked down the aisle and stepped off the bus, feeling the cool, fresh air against my skin as I returned to the realm of the living. I recall the driver wishing me a good night, saying he would see me again before he drove away. So that's my story, but it's not quite the way. end of it.

You may well ask why I didn't abandon my obsession with the Phantom Bus after my terrifying encounter. Well, for a long time I did, but in the end my curiosity got the better of me. I don't like the uncertainty of life, of not knowing what lays before me. I used to think that's just the way it is, but now I know better. The Harbinger is out there, and he can provide the answers I need. I won't waste my opportunity a second time. For years I have chased the bus, and I've caught it a further two times.

On both occasions, I boarded and avoided the traps set by the ghoulish passengers, and both times I waited for the Harbinger to board, but he would not move from his shelter, and so my hopes were frustrated. It's been extremely disheartening, but I will not give up. Tonight I will seek out the bus once again. I will keep doing so until the Harbinger answers my call. I know the risks. One night I may board the Phantom Bus and never make it home, but nevertheless I need to do this.

I must know the truth no matter what the cost. Now, if you excuse me, I have a bus to catch.