The Old Man On the Bus

In 2012, near the end of the year, I had an experience that I still remember clearly. At that time, I was still a young child. One afternoon, my mother and I went out together to buy some snacks—chips and fried chicken—so we could enjoy them while watching our favorite CD drama at home. I especially loved watching action movies starring Jackie Chan, and that was something we often did together.

After buying what we needed at the plaza, we boarded a bus to go back home. The bus was very crowded that day. Many passengers were standing while only a few were lucky enough to get seats. I was sitting next to my mother while the bus slowly made its way through the busy streets.

As the bus moved along, I began to drift into my own thoughts. I was spacing out and imagining different things, the way children sometimes do when they get bored during a long ride.

A few minutes later, something suddenly caught my attention.

Next to me was an empty seat, but I noticed that someone was now sitting there. It was an old man. At first, everything seemed normal. He looked like an ordinary elderly person quietly sitting on the bus. I glanced at him for a moment and then looked away.

Then a sudden breeze came through the bus window.

With the wind came a very strange smell. It was a terrible odor, almost like something rotten. I wrinkled my nose and looked around, trying to figure out where the smell was coming from.

When I looked again at the old man beside me, something horrifying caught my eye.

I froze immediately.

The old man’s jaw looked as if it had been torn apart. Part of it was hanging to the side of his face, and thick saliva seemed to be dripping down. The sight was so disturbing that I could barely move or speak. My heart started beating faster as I stared at him in shock.

What made it even more frightening was that no one else seemed to notice him. The other passengers on the bus were talking, standing, or sitting normally, as if nothing unusual was happening.

At that moment, I realized something even stranger.

The expression on the old man’s face made it seem like he knew that I could see him.

I felt terrified. Without saying anything, I hugged my mother tightly, afraid that the strange figure beside me might do something. I stayed close to her for the rest of the bus ride, too scared to look again.

After what felt like a long time, the bus finally reached our stop. It was around 2 or 3 in the afternoon. My mother and I got off the bus and started walking home.

Before leaving, I turned around for one last look.

The old man was gone.

I was confused because I had not seen him get off the bus. He had simply disappeared.

As I grew older, I often thought about that moment. It was a strange experience that never faded from my memory. At the time, I was only a child, and I did not know anything about ghosts or spirits. To me, people were simply people.

But that day on the bus was the first time I saw something that I could not explain. And even today, it still feels like a once-in-a-lifetime experience that I will never forget.

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