The Silent Bus
Every morning, Ethan waited alone at the end of Willow Street for the school bus. The mornings were always cold, wrapped in pale fog that drifted over the empty road. Usually, the bus arrived at exactly 7:15 AM with its familiar squeaking brakes and cheerful flashing lights.
But this morning felt wrong.
The sky was darker than usual, even though the sun should have been rising. No birds sang. No cars passed. The world seemed frozen and silent.
Ethan checked his phone. 7:14.
A moment later, headlights appeared through the fog.
The bus rolled toward him slowly.
At first, Ethan felt relieved, but as it came closer, he noticed something strange. The yellow paint looked faded and dirty, almost gray. Rust crawled along the sides like dried blood. The windows were so dark he couldn’t see inside.
The bus stopped in front of him with a long hiss.
The folding doors opened.
The driver sat motionless behind the wheel.
Ethan frowned. He had never seen this driver before.
The man wore the usual dark uniform, but his skin looked unnaturally pale. His eyes stayed fixed straight ahead. He didn’t blink. Didn’t smile. Didn’t even glance at Ethan.
“Uh… morning,” Ethan muttered.
No response.
For a second, Ethan considered staying outside, but the cold wind behind him pushed him forward. He stepped onto the bus.
The doors shut instantly behind him.
Inside, the air smelled damp and rotten, like wet leaves left underground for too long.
The bus was full of children.
Every seat was occupied.
But nobody talked.
Nobody laughed.
Nobody looked out the windows or played on their phones.
They all just sat perfectly still.
Ethan walked slowly down the aisle, uneasy. Usually the bus was loud every morning, packed with shouting kids and music leaking from headphones. But now the silence pressed against his ears painfully.
Finally, he found an empty seat near the middle and sat down.
The bus started moving again.
Ethan tried to calm himself. Maybe it was a substitute route. Maybe everyone was just tired.
Still, something felt deeply wrong.
The children never moved.
Not once.
Their heads faced forward like statues.
Minutes passed.
The road outside the windows looked unfamiliar now. Trees stretched endlessly on both sides, black and twisted. Ethan had never seen this road before.
“Where are we going?” he whispered.
Nobody answered.
His heartbeat quickened.
The boy sitting in front of him looked about his age. Brown hair. Blue hoodie. Completely motionless.
Ethan leaned forward nervously and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“Hey,” he whispered. “Do you know where—”
The boy slowly turned his head.
Ethan froze.
The boy had no face.
No eyes.
No nose.
No mouth.
Just smooth pale skin stretched tightly over a blank skull.
Ethan screamed and fell backward into aisle.
The faceless boy stared silently.
Then, one by one, every child on the bus stood up.
The movement happened at the exact same moment.
Like puppets pulled by invisible strings.
Ethan looked around wildly.
Every single one of them had no face.
Dozens of blank heads turned toward him together.
The bus driver still stared forward, unmoving.
The children stepped into the aisle.
Slowly at first.
Then faster.
Ethan scrambled backward, hitting the rear emergency door. His hands shook as he tried to open it.
It wouldn’t move.
The faceless children began running toward him.
Their shoes slammed violently against the floor.
THUD. THUD. THUD.
Though they had no mouths, Ethan could hear breathing — wet, raspy breathing filling the bus from every direction.
He screamed again and kicked at the emergency door desperately.
Nothing.
The nearest child lunged at him.
Cold hands wrapped around Ethan’s arm.
Another grabbed his shoulder.
Then another.
Their skin felt icy and rubbery.
Ethan fought wildly, but more hands grabbed him, pulling him into the crowd of faceless bodies.
The bus lights flickered violently overhead.
Darkness flashed on and off.
Every time the lights returned, the children were closer.
Closer.
Closer.
Ethan felt fingers pressing against his face.
Pulling at his skin.
Stretching it painfully.
He tried to scream, but hands covered his mouth.
The last thing he saw was the driver slowly turning his head toward him for the first time.
Then everything went black.
The next morning, the school bus arrived at 7:15 sharp.
At the bus stop, a little girl waited alone, holding her backpack tightly.
The doors opened.
She climbed aboard quietly.
She noticed a boy sitting near the front.
He sat perfectly still.
Facing forward.
Silent.
Something about him seemed strange.
Then the boy slowly turned his head toward her.
Where his face should have been, there was only smooth pale skin.
The other children began standing up.
Any similarity to real people, living or dead, is purely accidental. This story is entirely fictional.
Writer : Alireza Hazareh
Before You Leave… Read This: The Rabbit Beneath the Snow
