The city of Beijing breathes differently at night. As autumn’s chill crept through the streets, I found myself waiting at a lonely bus stop, the weight of overtime hours hanging heavy on my shoulders. The streetlights flickered with an uncertain rhythm, casting long shadows that seemed to dance with memories of forgotten times.
An elderly woman stood nearby, her clothing a stark contrast to the modern urban landscape. Her traditional silk jacket looked like a relic from another era, carefully preserved against the backdrop of Beijing’s relentless modernization. I noticed her watching me with an intensity that made my skin crawl, her eyes holding secrets older than the city itself.
When Bus 375 arrived, something felt immediately wrong. The vehicle looked like it had been preserved from decades past, its metal frame weathered and dull. I stepped inside, the interior a time capsule of faded memories and worn leather seats. The few passengers sat motionless, their faces turned away, creating an unsettling silence that seemed to swallow every sound.
My phone showed no signal – impossible in a city as connected as Beijing. The streets outside began to blur, transforming into unfamiliar landscapes that whispered of forgotten histories. I tried to move, to understand, but the bus seemed to have a will of its own. Passengers around me started to fade, disappearing like mist, leaving only cold emptiness.
The elderly woman approached me, her steps silent against the bus’s wooden floor. “I’ve been riding this route since 1985,” she said, her voice a mixture of warning and resignation. “This bus… it collects passengers who don’t know they’re already lost.” Her words sent a chill through my body, connecting me to a tragic history I was only beginning to comprehend.
Something in my pocket caught my attention – a jade pendant my grandmother had given me years ago. As the bus approached a dark tunnel that seemed to promise no return, the pendant began to glow with a soft, protective light. With a surge of desperate energy, I forced open the emergency exit, tumbling into the darkness just as the bus seemed to dissolve into the night.
Dawn found me back at the original bus stop, my clothes dusty, my mind reeling. Research confirmed the unthinkable – a bus had indeed disappeared in 1985, its passengers never found. Now, years later, I catch glimpses of that phantom bus in the distance, a reminder that some journeys are never truly completed.
Horror Level:
4 / 5
Categories: Asian Horror, Ghost Stories, Ghost Stories, Modern Supernatural, Public Transport Hauntings, Urban Legends
Tags: Beijing ghost story, Bus 375, Chinese supernatural, ghost passengers, haunted bus, jade pendant, night terror, public transport horror, urban legend
Religion: Buddhist/Taoist
Country of Origin: China
Topic: Urban Legend
Ethnicity: Chinese
