A cold wind howled through the towering trees as a bus rumbled along an isolated highway. Professor Daniel Carter sat near the front, glancing uneasily at the dark Ravenwood Forest outside. The students, exhausted from their trip, dozed off.

Then—

The bus screeched to a halt.

Greg, the driver, cursed. A wild boar stood in the middle of the road, its red eyes glowing unnaturally. A moment later, it bolted into the woods.

Minutes later, two students, Ryan and Caleb, stepped out for a restroom break.

A scream tore through the silence.

Carter and a few others ran toward the sound. They found Ryan frozen in fear, staring into the trees. Then, a motorcycle rumbled in the distance. A man on a dusty bike emerged from the shadows.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he warned.

“Why?” Carter asked.

“This is The Endless Crossing. The road traps travelers. The souls of those who never escaped—they don’t want you to leave.”

A chill swept through the trees. The biker revved his engine.

“Get back on the bus. No matter what, don’t trust what you see.”

Then he vanished into the night.

Tension thickened as they hurried back onto the bus. Greg drove in silence.

Minutes turned into an hour.

Ethan, a student, suddenly gasped. “Wait… we’ve been here before!”

The same twisted tree stood by the roadside. They were going in circles.

Greg’s grip tightened on the wheel. Then, a village appeared ahead, lanterns flickering. A woman waved from the distance.

Professor Carter hesitated. Something was wrong.

James, another professor, suddenly stiffened. “That’s my house…” he whispered.

Trembling, he rushed forward. His wife and children lay motionless inside, their throats slit open.

A frail old man appeared behind him. “You can join them,” he whispered.

James’s hands shook as he pulled out a pocket knife.

“NO!” Carter tackled him just in time. The old man vanished. The village flickered—then disappeared.

The ground trembled. Shadows emerged—figures with hollow eyes and twisted grins. The Forgotten.

“RUN!”

They sprinted back to the bus. The figures closed in, whispering, reaching. Greg floored the gas pedal. The bus roared forward—

Then, suddenly, the road reappeared. They burst onto the open highway.

Silence.

Greg exhaled shakily. “We made it.”

Carter wasn’t so sure. His gaze flicked to the rearview mirror—

And his blood ran cold.

The old man sat among the students. Smiling.

Carter spun around. The seat was empty.

“Did anyone else see that?” he whispered.

No one answered.

Minutes passed.

Then Ethan choked out, “Professor… the road… it’s changing.”

The highway was fading. The asphalt peeled away, revealing the dirt path of Ravenwood Forest.

They had never escaped.

Panic erupted. Students screamed.

Greg slammed the brakes—but the bus kept moving.

The headlights flickered. Darkness swallowed the road.

Then—

A loud, inhuman shriek. The bus jerked violently. The engine sputtered and died.

Silence.

A slow, deliberate knock came from the bus door.

One.

Two.

Three.

Greg and Carter exchanged terrified glances.

Another knock. Louder.

Then came the voice—hollow, distant.

“Let me in.”

It was the old man.

Greg gripped the wheel. “We’re not opening that door.”

The voice chuckled—like dry leaves rustling, bones grinding together.

“You already did.”

The students turned in horror. The bus seats creaked. Shadows shifted.

The Forgotten were inside.

Glowing eyes stared. Cold hands reached out.

Someone screamed.

Carter shouted, “DRIVE!”

Greg turned the key. “THE BUS WON’T START!”

The whispers grew louder. The shadows closed in.

Then—

A blinding flash of light.

The figures shrieked. The old man’s voice dissolved into the air.

And just like that—

They were back on the highway.

The bus engine roared to life. The twisted trees were gone. The sun was rising.

Greg floored the gas pedal, never looking back.

But every few years, travelers report seeing a lone bus in the dead of night.

The headlights flicker. The windows are fogged.

And sometimes…

If you listen closely…

You can hear a slow, deliberate knock on the door.

One.

Two.

Three.

And a voice that follows.

“Let me in.”