ClancyPasta | Internet Horror Stories
Sep 14, 2026 · 16 min · 7 segments
"I hate this place..." CLANCYPASTA PRESENTS ► "If You Board a Night Bus and There's a Man Sitting on the Back Row, Get off Immediately. That is NOt a Man." written by SpookyMatMusic, narrated by…
No one believed me then when I insisted that I knew the truth.
I have no solid proof, but I'm certain of what I saw that night.
I know it was the man on the night bus, and I know that my best friend is surely dead.
Granted, we were both recent college graduates at the time.
However, any common sense we may have been able to exercise became completely irrelevant after several rounds of tequila.
We were just so happy that all those long months of study and testing were finally over.
Damn, I miss him.
Obviously.
Driving was out of the question.
We were drunk, not brain dead.
We should have called a taxi, like my friend smartly suggested, but I said to him, nah dude, buses are cheaper.
We'd already spent more cash than I'd care to admit, and I'd be damned if I was going to waste any more on an overpriced city cab.
Not when there was a perfectly good, less expensive night bus fairly close by.
It was full of the usual suspects.
Tired shift workers, some teenagers who were clearly smoking something illicit from a barely hidden backpack, a few more of our inebriated brethren, and there on the back row of seats, obscured by shadow and a large black hooded coat, was a man sitting alone.
We nonchalantly handed over some coins to the driver.
He responded in kind with complete silence.
Probably sick of all the intoxicated travelers, I thought.
Then we made our way to some vacant seats in the middle.
The bus was old.
Antique, even.
Very different to the other city buses.
Though I assumed it was just the only one available for this late of a service.
So I paid a little attention.
At the time, it seemed pretty usual for a weekend around here.
No one believed me then when I insisted that I knew the truth.
I have no solid proof, but I'm certain of what I saw that night.
I know it was the man on the night bus, and I know that my best friend is surely dead.
Granted, we were both recent college graduates at the time.
However, any common sense we may have been able to exercise became completely irrelevant after several rounds of tequila.
We were just so happy that all those long months of study and testing were finally over.
Damn, I miss him.
Obviously.
Driving was out of the question.
We were drunk, not brain dead.
We should have called a taxi, like my friend smartly suggested, but I said to him, nah dude, buses are cheaper.
We'd already spent more cash than I'd care to admit, and I'd be damned if I was going to waste any more on an overpriced city cab.
Not when there was a perfectly good, less expensive night bus fairly close by.
It was full of the usual suspects.
Tired shift workers, some teenagers who were clearly smoking something illicit from a barely hidden backpack, a few more of our inebriated brethren, and there on the back row of seats, obscured by shadow and a large black hooded coat, was a man sitting alone.
We nonchalantly handed over some coins to the driver.
He responded in kind with complete silence.
Probably sick of all the intoxicated travelers, I thought.
Then we made our way to some vacant seats in the middle.
The bus was old.
Antique, even.
Very different to the other city buses.
Though I assumed it was just the only one available for this late of a service.
So I paid a little attention.
At the time, it seemed pretty usual for a weekend around here.
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