The Last Passenger

It was 11:43 p.m. when Raghav boarded the last city bus from Sector 29. The streets were eerily quiet, the fog hugging the road like a living thing. He had missed his train and this was the only way back home.

The bus was empty—except for the driver and an old conductor chewing tobacco silently. Raghav picked a seat near the middle and pulled his hoodie tighter. Cold wind seeped through the cracked windows.

Ten minutes into the journey, the bus stopped at a deserted junction. No one was there, but the door hissed open anyway.

A man stepped in.

Tall, thin, wearing a black coat and a wide-brimmed hat that shadowed his face. He didn’t speak, didn’t look at anyone—just walked silently and sat in the very last row.

Raghav turned slightly. He hadn’t seen the man approach. No headlights, no footsteps, no sound.

Weird.

The bus moved on. Another stop. Empty again. But this time, the door opened and a woman climbed in. Pale face, white sari. She too walked to the back.

Raghav glanced behind. Now there were two people sitting there.

He looked at the conductor, who was still chewing, staring blankly ahead.

“Do you know those people?” Raghav asked casually.

The conductor blinked. “What people?”

Raghav frowned. “The ones who just got on?”

The conductor turned around. His eyes scanned the bus—and then narrowed.

“There’s no one there,” he said flatly.

Raghav turned back to look.

The back seats were empty.

He stared, stunned. He was sure he saw them. Had even heard footsteps.

The conductor chuckled nervously. “Late night messes with your head, bhai. Sit tight.”

The bus moved on.

Next stop.

Again, the door opened. This time three people entered. Two kids and an old man. None of them looked at Raghav. They just filed in, dead silent, and walked toward the back.

Raghav stood up. “You can’t tell me you didn’t see that!” he snapped at the conductor.

But the conductor was pale now. He looked back… and saw nothing.

The back was empty again.

“No more stops!” the conductor shouted to the driver. “Keep driving! Don’t stop no matter what!”

Raghav was now shaken. “What’s going on?”

The conductor whispered, “You should’ve gotten off at the last stop.”

Raghav felt ice in his veins. “Why?”

The conductor didn’t answer.

The bus kept moving through the fog. The city was gone now. There were no buildings, no streetlights—just endless road and darkness on either side.

Suddenly, Raghav's phone buzzed.

One new AirDrop request:
“FROM: The Last Passenger”

Attached: a photo.

He opened it.

It was him—sleeping in his bus seat, taken from the back of the bus.

He whipped around.

This time, the entire back row was full.

Men, women, children. All pale. All staring at him.

None blinking.

Then he realized—he couldn’t see their reflections in the bus window.

Just his own.

The driver slammed the brakes. The bus skidded to a stop.

“We’re here,” the driver muttered.

Raghav looked outside.

But there was nothing. Just a long stretch of fog and a road that disappeared into blackness.

“No, I’m not getting off here,” he said.

But the door hissed open.

And they stood up.

The passengers.

All of them.

Walking slowly toward him.

He screamed. Ran toward the driver’s cabin—but the conductor blocked him.

“You were the last soul we needed.”

“What?!”

The driver turned, for the first time, revealing a hollow, eyeless face.

“You were always on this bus, Raghav.”

Raghav stumbled back. “No—I just got on—I missed my train—I’m not—”

He froze.

He remembered.

There had been an accident.

A collision near Sector 29.

Late night.

A bus.

And he’d been in it.

The next morning, police found a crashed bus in a ravine near Sector 29.

Inside were fifteen bodies.

But one seat was empty.

Still warm.

Advice:
Sometimes, missing the last train isn’t the worst thing.
Sometimes, boarding the wrong bus… is how it all begins.
Next time you're alone at night—look around.
Are you sure… you're the only one there?

Because some journeys don’t take you anywhere—
They take you back.

Back to what you forgot.
Back to what you buried.
Back to who you really are.

Stay tuned for Part 2…
Because Raghav’s ride isn’t over yet.
It’s just taken a darker turn.