The Haunted Bus 1382 .

- Inside, the bus was dimly lit. Apart from the driver, there were only three other passengers. An old woman sat near the front, her face hidden in the shadow of her shawl. Behind her sat a young woman, with a small boy who looked about ten. Mann guessed they were sisters. They nodded politely at him, and Mann found a seat.

I t was a cold, lonely night. The streets were empty, and the air felt heavy with silence. Mann stood shivering at the bus stop, glancing nervously at his watch. It was already past midnight, and he was terribly late for home. The buses usually stopped running by this hour, but Mann hoped one last bus would come.

At around 2:35 a.m., headlights appeared in the distance. A rusty old bus screeched to a halt in front of him. Its faded number plate read: 1382. Relieved, Mann quickly climbed aboard.

Inside, the bus was dimly lit. Apart from the driver, there were only three other passengers. An old woman sat near the front, her face hidden in the shadow of her shawl. Behind her sat a young woman in her twenties, with a small boy who looked about ten. Mann guessed they were sisters. They nodded politely at him, and Mann found a seat.

The bus rattled through the dark streets. At 3:33 a.m., the driver noticed three men standing by the roadside, waving for a lift. The driver, being kind-hearted, slowed down and opened the doors. The men climbed aboard and shuffled to the back. They looked exhausted. One limped badly, leaning on the others for support.

But there was something strange-an awful stench filled the bus, like rotten flesh. Mann wrinkled his nose. The old woman glanced at the men, then quickly looked away.

A few minutes later, the silence broke. The old woman suddenly pointed at Mann and shouted, "This boy has stolen my purse!"

Everyone turned in shock. Mann's heart raced. "I haven't done anything!" he protested.

The old woman ordered the driver to stop at the nearest police station. The bus screeched to a halt, and they all stepped out. Mann, pale but calm, repeated, "I swear, I didn't steal your purse."

To his surprise, the old woman's voice softened. "I know, my child," she said gently. "You did not steal from me. But those three men at the back… didn't you see? Their legs were twisted-rotated completely backwards. They were not ordinary men. I accused you only to protect you from them."

The group hurried into the police station and explained everything. The policeman on duty listened carefully and then asked, "Which bus did you say you came on?"

"Bus number 1382," Mann replied.

The policeman frowned. "Strange. There is no record of any bus with that number."

The passengers exchanged nervous glances. When they turned back, Bus 1382 had vanished into the night.

***

Ten years passed. One stormy evening, news broke of a terrible bus accident near a riverbank. Rescuers pulled out three bodies from the wreckage-a man, a woman, and a child. Strangely, they looked exactly like the passengers Mann had seen that night long ago.

And the bus they were found in carried a chilling number on its plate: 1382.

To this day, travelers whisper about Bus 1382. Some say it still roams the streets at night, carrying shadows of its last passengers. And if you ever see it-think twice before you get on.

(Based on the story by Kavyang Baraiya)