A Horrific Bus Stop

A Horrific Bus Stop

I was seventeen years old when this occurred.

Three or four times a week, I would take the bus home from the gym.

It was a Sunday, and I had to wait longer for another bus because I had barely missed mine.

If my parents hadn't been out for the evening and taxi fares were higher, I would have contacted them. I made the decision to wait in the bus shelter.

The night was chilly, with snowflakes having just begun to fall.

I pulled out my phone and started listening to music because my bus was taking longer than usual.

It was almost an hour later.I had not seen anyone at all, and it was chilly.That is, until something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye.

A spooky man wearing multiple layers of clothing approached me at a leisurely pace.

I just stared at my phone because I knew that if I stared at him, I would get more attention.

He took a seat at the opposite end of the shelter and fixed his gaze solely on me.

He had an unsettling quality about him.

Either he was inebriated or under the influence of drugs.

Then he enquired,

"When is the bus due?"

I said, "I think it's delayed because of the snow," pulling out my earbuds.

After giving me a long look, he began to murmur to himself.

I pretended to be on my phone since I was starting to get a pretty weird feeling from him. A few minutes later, I took another look.

He had gotten nearer to me. I momentarily averted my gaze upon hearing the sound of his approach. I turned to face him. "You okay there?" I asked.

His shiny eyes found mine as he raised his arm and leaned in.

The moment he hit the ground, I picked up my bag and took off running.

Trying not to look back, I ran along the road.I kept going till I got to the next bus station.

I looked back to see if he was still there, but he had left, so I decided to take a seat. I waited for the bus with a relieved head resting on the back of the glass.

I started as I heard *knock knock knock knock* and turned to see the same guy staring at me through the glass.

"What the hell is wrong with you" ?

Then he began to make his way around the shelter in my direction.

"I'm alerting you! Remain. Returning."

As I started to back away, I cried out in fear.

I wanted to run, but I couldn't since I left my stuff inside the shelter.

The man suddenly sprang at me, and I hurried to get out of the way.

His face hit the floor first.

I saw the blood dripping from his face as I stood in shock.

I attempted to elicit a reaction from him, but to no avail.

The paramedics and cops showed up soon after I phoned them.

When I explained what had happened to them, they informed me that the man was using prescription medications.

In his wallet, he discovered a picture of himself and his son.

Since the youngster resembled me so much, we presumed that he believed I was him.

Later on, I found out that he lost his son in a custody dispute and spiraled out of control. That was the last time I saw him before he was whisked away for treatment.

Not long after, I obtained my driver's license and haven't boarded a bus since.

In general, a horror story's impact on a sensitive heart varies depending on the reader and the particular tale. It can be entertaining as well as a means of delving into difficult emotions, even if it can also be frightening and upsetting.