CREEPYPASTA

The Passenger

Several months ago a friend of mine alerted me to a puzzling incident on an inner-city bus. Being a bus driver himself, he had heard many of the usual generic stories that would be exchanged around the depot – muggings, broken windows, the occasional couple attempting drunken sex; some drivers even spoke of ghostly passengers who would pay their fare, take a seat on the upper deck, and then vanish without a trace.

Those latter stories were of a kind which my friend enjoyed hearing but never took seriously, considering them to be merely fictitious entertainment shared amongst co-workers, alleviating the tediousness of an empty depot at night. That was, until a fellow driver told him about Ruby. So intrigued by the account was I, that I took the time to contact all involved, piecing together what occurred as best I could.

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Ruby was a pleasant woman, even though she had reason not to be. In her early 40's, life was much harder than it should have been; each day a struggle. Burdened by relative poverty since a child, she was compelled to spend most of her time scrimping and saving via two endless jobs, both of which she found neither well paid nor enjoyable, but her current financial situation dictated the need.

During the day she worked as many hours as possible at a supermarket, stocking shelves and occasionally bagging groceries at the checkout for customers. At night she would attend her second job as a cleaner at a factory manufacturing, of all things, cleaning products; the irony was not lost on her, and neither was the tediousness of it all.

At the end of each drawn out, tiresome day, Ruby would return home at night via a long and vapid bus journey, with just enough time to kiss her 13 year old daughter Angela on the head, whispering 'sweet dreams' to her as she slept, before herself turning in. This short, private moment of affection was what carried Ruby through her day, as it was for her daughter that she struggled.

Angela's father had abandoned her when she was just two years old, and with no other family to speak of – at least none who could be relied upon – Ruby was left to work her fingers to the bone each day, clothing and feeding her daughter while paying for a series of crippling medical bills brought about by the child's severe asthma. She of course did not grudge the situation, for her daughter's condition had improved markedly and that sentiment meant more to her than any amount of work or hardship ever could.

One night, Ruby was asked to work a few extra hours at the factory. While she was perpetually exhausted and yearned even for the most meager of rests, she accepted the offer gratefully as more hours meant less debt; she simply could not afford to decline the opportunity.

At 11:37 P.M. following the end of her shift, she stood at the nearest bus stop, illuminated by an overhead street lamp in the darkness, waiting with heavy eyelids for the last bus of the night to arrive. Thankfully, the wait was not long and soon the elongated vehicle cumbersomely inched up the road, slowing before stopping, opening its hydraulic doors with a hiss, welcoming her into its embrace.

The driver, a balding and irritable man who appeared equally as tired as she did, grumbled for Ruby to pay her fare – which she did after rifling through her handbag for what seemed an age, finally producing the desired amount of loose change, much to the driver's annoyance.

In a dazed lethargy she wandered down the aisle, taking a seat next to a window at the back. As she prepared herself for the long boring route home, the vehicle shuddered back into life, pulling away from the pavement as the doors sealed shut, stumbling with unsure progress on the last leg of its journey for the night.

The engine growled, the vibrations climbing up the frame of the bus, rattling the windows slightly and causing the seat, which Ruby now slumped in, to quiver in response. The vehicle had seen better days and was clearly reaching the end of its life; the grime on the windows and floor was a congealed reminder of the countless thousands who had sat in each of the seats, weary and thinking of home – discarded gum stuck to a shoe, the murmured grievances of its passengers vented daily – yet at night the enclosed frame of rusting and neglected metal seemed almost serene in its apparent emptiness.