Amidst the eerie fog and the dim light of dawn, a school bus idled at the edge of Black Hollow Road. It wasn't any regular bus, but an ancient, rusting relic, its paint chipped away revealing patches of metal scarred from decades of neglect.
Local kids were always warned to stay away from the old route. Legends whispered of the cursed bus, said to be trapped in a continuous loop, forever reliving the day it met its ghastly end.
One day, a group of rebellious teenagers, eager to debunk the myth, decided to wait for the cursed bus. At exactly 3:15 a.m., the bus emerged, appearing just as the tales described.
Driven by morbid curiosity, the teens climbed aboard. The inside was pristine, a stark contrast to its decrepit exterior. The seats were worn, yet immaculate. But there was something unsettling about the bus's only other occupant: a young girl in a tattered uniform, singing softly to herself, *"The wheels on the bus go round and round..."*
She continued singing, but as she did, her voice became guttural, her tone dark and foreboding. Then, with a swift motion, she turned her head. Her eyes, vacant and hollow, met theirs. Her voice dropped to a whisper, "You shouldn't be here."
Suddenly, the bus jolted forward, driving recklessly. The teens panicked, desperately trying to get out. Windows wouldn't break. Doors wouldn't budge. The bus driver, a shadowy figure with no discernible features, ignored their screams.
One by one, the lights in the bus flickered and went out. Darkness consumed the vehicle. And in that impenetrable blackness, they heard the girl's voice, now full of malevolence, singing, *"The screams on the bus go on and on..."*
When the bus finally stopped, it was morning. The doors opened, and the teens, pale and disoriented, stumbled out. They found themselves at the same spot where they had boarded. The bus, with its malevolent driver and eerie singing passenger, vanished back into the fog.
Relieved, the group tried to put the traumatic event behind them. But the next morning, and every morning after, they awoke with the ghostly echo of the little girl's song in their ears.
No matter where they went, the sound of bus wheels followed. They would see fleeting glimpses of the bus in reflections, or hear its horn in the distance. Each time, that chilling tune played: *"The wheels on the bus go round and round..."*
Years passed. The group grew distant, their sanity unraveling. One by one, on the anniversaries of that fateful night, they disappeared, leaving behind an empty pair of shoes and the faintest echo of that haunting lullaby.
Now, at 3:15 a.m. on Black Hollow Road, if you listen closely, you can hear the chilling tune, and occasionally, amidst the chorus of the young girl, you might catch the desperate screams of those who dared to challenge the legend. The wheels on the bus go on and on... forever.