Historia: The Bus-Stop of the Spirits

“Excuse me, where can I find the famous Bus-Stop of the Spirits?”

“The what?” asked Elizabeth. She had only worked in the tourist office for a week, but she’d lived in the area for years. She knew there wasn’t much to see, and there definitely wasn’t a famous bus-stop.

“The Bus-Stop of the Spirits,” the man repeated. “It’s one of the most significant landmarks in the whole area. I read about it online. Can I walk from here, or do I need to get a taxi?”

“Or a bus, perhaps?” Elizabeth suggested.

“I want to speak to your manager.”

“That won’t be necessary, sir!” Elizabeth said quickly. “The Bus-Stop of the Spirits. Of course! I was only joking.”

It was Friday, and nearly the end of the day. Elizabeth didn’t want an argument. She wanted the tourist to go away, so she could go home.

She thought about one of the town’s many bus-stops. “Yes, you can reach our world-renowned bus-stop on foot. Follow that path towards the river, and it’s on your right. It’s the bus-stop with the sign that says ‘No Dogs’.”

“Fantastic,” said the man. “Can you tell me a little about its history?”

Elizabeth took a deep breath. “Um… well… there was a… cabbage farmer… who was angry that the bus was late. So he cursed it. Now, buses never arrive there on time. Unless… you are carrying a cabbage.”

“And how old is it?” asked the tourist, wide-eyed.

“Oh… at least… a thousand years.”

“Incredible!”

The man left the tourist office with a smile on his face. Elizabeth left ten minutes later, laughing to herself.

When Elizabeth arrived at work on Monday morning, there was a long queue of tourists outside the door. When she arrived at her desk, she saw a pile of booklets with the title: ‘The Bus-Stop of the Spirits – The Thousand-Year Curse.’ On the bottom, it said: ‘Includes a discount voucher for cabbages.’

“How much for the booklet?” asked the first tourist.

Elizabeth looked on the cover, and pointed to the label. She couldn’t believe the price.

“Give me three,” said the woman.

Elizabeth sold the booklets all morning. When the tourists had finally gone away, she was exhausted. She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. It was quiet at last.

There was a voice coming from the office behind her. Her manager was on the phone.

“Your article about a bus-stop worked like magic!” he was saying. “How much would you charge to write another one? … Alright, I’ll send the money. … Oh, who cares? Do it about the traffic lights.”