Bus Stop

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
ghosts in human form; inspired by true story but this is total work of fiction.

Submitted: November 18, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 18, 2018



The the well dressed young man sat waiting at the bus stop. It was mid-day as Frank Hall, a well-fed, middle-aged city bus driver with glasses, stopped to pick him up.

As the doors flung open the young man stepped in. He sat down in the first seat catty-cornered to Frank. Only two other people were on the bus.

“Wow. Cool tux!” Frank exclaimed, thinking the kid might be in a wedding party or something.

“Thank you, sir,” replied the young man.

“Never saw you on the bus before. I’m Frank Hall,” said the bus driver, extending his hand.

“Derek Phillips,” the young man replied, shaking hands.

Frank thought his handshake was kind of limp for a kid his size.

“Pleased to meet you, Derek.”

Derek nodded.

* * *

That afternoon Frank collected Derek in town to take him back to where he got him.

Derek boarded the bus and sat in the same spot he did before. He had a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

“For that special someone?” Frank asked, winking.

“Yes. Very special,” Derek said. Frank detected a note of sadness in his voice.

They sat quietly the rest of the way while two female passengers talked about hairdos and boyfriends. The bus finally came to a halt at the original stop. Doors flung open. Derek politely let the two ladies step off first, then followed.

Frank was impressed that chivalry was still alive and well in this day and age.

As the sun sank Frank waved good-bye to his passengers and closed the doors. His eyes riveted to something to his right.

Oh, shit. Frank thought. Derek left his flowers.

He grabbed the bouquet, flung open the doors and yelled: “Derek you forgot . . .”  but Derek was nowhere to be seen. Just the two girls walking down the road chatting away. Frank got off the bus with the flowers and saw that Derek was taking a short cut through the cemetery.

The sun had completely disappeared in the horizon and the street lights popped on. The moon was full so it was almost like daytime.

Frank saw Derek on the far side of the cemetery. Derek knelt down in front of a large tombstone, which hid him from Frank’s view. Frank walked closer to the tombstone, but kept a respectful distance thinking Derek was praying. He waited for him to stand up.

But Derek never stood up.

Frank walked closer to the tombstone.

“Derek?” he said softly. “You left your bouquet on the bus.’’

No answer.

He walked around the tombstone. Derek wasn’t there.

Am I losing my mind??

Then he noticed fresh footprints. He was somewhat relieved to at least see them. Maybe Derek left when he was fiddling with his i-Pad.

He placed the roses on the grave. He glanced at the photograph on the tombstone as he stood up. He cleaned his glasses to get a better look.

His face turned white as a sheet.

The picture was of a couple on their wedding day. And the groom was Derek! In the same tuxedo!

Frank forced his eyes to look at the inscription on the tombstone.

Derek Paul Phillips
Born March 5, 1995 - Died June 16, 2017
Denise Ann Smithers Phillips
Born November 1, 1996 - Died June 16, 2017

Horror gripped him.

Today is June 16, 2018, he thought. It’s exactly one year later!

He then remembered a news story about a year ago about a local couple that was murdered on their wedding day. The bride’s ex-boyfriend was charged.

Frank pulled out his i-Pad and could barely type to check for the news story.

His worst suspicion was confirmed. The murder happened on June 16, 2017.

Frank’s hands were shaking so badly he dropped the i-Pad. He didn’t bother to pick it up. He just turned and ran back to the bus.

He didn’t quite make it though. He collapsed on the way.

* * *

The coroner said Frank died of a combination of severe shock and over-exertion.



This is the true story that inspired BUS STOP.

It was a full moon night. My friend Paul and I were on our way back from a movie.

I mentioned the full moon and asked Paul if he thought a werewolf might be out and about and he howled.

He then swang into a cemetery on the way to my house. He parked by a tombstone of a deceased couple named Phillips. The graves were on my side of the car.

Paul got out and started giving a speech to the dead.

I almost died (no pun intended).

Paul addressed the residents of the cemetery as follows:

“I hope you all can take this lying down. I mean, as if you have a choice.”

“I know you are dying to hear what I have to say.”

"This is going to kill ya. Oh wait . . . too late."

And things like that.

I was cringing at his disrespect.

As Paul rambled on with his silly "speech" the bouquet of flowers on the Phillips’ grave fell over.

I freaked out.

There was no wind.









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