The Beijing Bus Ride: The Haunting of Traffic Jams

The city of Beijing was a labyrinth of concrete and steel, a place where dreams and nightmares intertwined. It was in this urban sprawl that a peculiar incident would unfold, one that would leave the city talking for years to come.

It was a routine evening, and the streets were alive with the hum of activity. The traffic was a sea of red lights, and the air was thick with the fumes of a thousand engines. Among the sea of cars was a small, rickety bus, its windows fogged with the breath of its weary passengers.

The driver, a middle-aged man named Li, was no stranger to the city's traffic. He had been navigating these jams for as long as he could remember. Today, however, was different. The bus was packed, and the passengers were restless. They muttered among themselves, growing increasingly agitated with the slow pace of the traffic.

Li's eyes flickered to the rearview mirror. He could see the faces of his passengers, their expressions a mix of frustration and impatience. It was then that he noticed something odd—a figure standing at the back of the bus, partially obscured by the seat. It was a woman, but she seemed to be made of shadows. Her eyes were hollow, and her skin was translucent.

Li's heart skipped a beat. He thought he was seeing things, the stress of the traffic finally catching up with him. But as the bus continued to crawl along, the woman began to move. She walked forward, her presence growing more solid with each step. The passengers turned to look, their eyes wide with shock and fear.

Li's voice was a whisper as he addressed the woman, "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

The woman did not respond. Instead, she reached out and touched the face of a young woman sitting next to her. The young woman's eyes rolled back, and she slumped forward, her body convulsing as if being strangled.

The bus erupted into chaos. Passengers shouted, and some even tried to flee. Li, however, was frozen in place. He watched as the woman's fingers moved over the young woman's face, leaving a trail of frost in her wake. The young woman's eyes opened, but they were filled with a hollow, otherworldly glow.

The woman turned to Li, her voice a cold whisper. "You must take me to the traffic jam," she said. "It is there that I belong."

Li, realizing the gravity of the situation, nodded. He turned the bus onto a side street, away from the main traffic. The woman followed him, her presence growing stronger with each turn.

As they approached a particularly dense area of traffic, the woman's form began to glow with an eerie light. The passengers, now too scared to move, watched in horror as the woman's hands reached out to the cars around them. The cars began to slow, and then to stop, as if being drawn by an invisible force.

Li's eyes widened in terror. He knew what was happening. The woman was a ghost, and she was drawing the living into her realm.

The bus came to a stop, and the woman stepped out. She turned to Li and said, "Thank you, driver. You have done what I asked."

Li, still in shock, watched as the woman faded into the night, leaving only a trail of frost in her wake. The passengers, now calm, looked at each other in silence. They had all seen the same thing, and none of them could explain it.

As the bus began to move again, Li felt a chill run down his spine. He knew that this was just the beginning of a long and terrifying journey.

The days that followed were a blur of fear and confusion. Li's story spread through the city like wildfire, and soon everyone was talking about the haunted bus. Some believed it was a legend, a product of the city's dark side. Others, however, believed that Li's story was true, that the bus was haunted by a ghost, and that it had the power to draw the living into the world of the dead.

Li himself was a changed man. He no longer drove the bus, and he never spoke of the incident again. But the memory of the woman, the ghost of traffic jams, would stay with him forever.

And so, the legend of the Beijing Bus Ride: The Haunting of Traffic Jams continued to grow, a chilling reminder that in the heart of the city, the line between the living and the dead was never as clear as it seemed.