The Haunted Railroad Tracks of San Antonio – Ghost Children or Urban Legend?

 If you're from San Antonio, you've probably heard the story. And if you're not… well, buckle up.

On the south side of the city, near the intersection of Shane and Villamain Road, there’s a nondescript railroad crossing that’s been the center of one of Texas’s eeriest ghost stories for decades. The tale is so well known here that it’s become a rite of passage for curious teens, amateur ghost hunters, and even the occasional out-of-town skeptic.

The legend goes like this:

Back in the 1930s or '40s—accounts vary—a tragic accident occurred when a school bus full of children stalled on those very tracks. An oncoming train barreled through, unable to stop in time. Everyone on board, including the driver, was killed.

Since then, drivers who stop their cars on or near those tracks (especially if they’re in neutral) have reported something unexplainable: their vehicles will slowly be pushed off the tracks—seemingly out of harm’s way.

That alone is creepy. But it gets weirder.

Many claim that after their car is moved, they get out to inspect it. And when they do… they find tiny handprints on the back of their vehicle. Small, child-sized prints. Pressed into the dust. Smudged across the trunk. Too many to be coincidence. Too small to be anything but what they seem.

Some folks swear they even hear soft whispers, or feel a sudden drop in temperature—especially when sitting silently in their car, windows down, waiting for "something" to happen.

I’ll admit—I didn’t believe any of this when I first heard it. It sounded like another one of those too-good-to-be-true ghost stories.

But I went.

Middle of the night. Quiet. No traffic. I brought my car to the tracks, dusted it down beforehand so there’d be no marks. I stopped. Shifted into neutral. No foot on the gas. Nothing.

And slowly—I swear to God—my car started rolling forward. Not backward. Not sideways. Forward. Off the tracks.

I got out, heart pounding. Walked around to the back of the car.

There they were.

Handprints. Dozens of them. Just as described—small, low, in the dust I had just cleaned off.

I can’t explain it. I don’t know if it’s real or a trick of topography, but those handprints weren’t mine. They weren’t adult-sized. And I wasn’t alone—I went with two friends, and none of us touched the back of the car.

Some say it’s just a slope in the road, an optical illusion. Some say people powder their trunks on purpose. Maybe. But try it yourself. Go there at night. Turn off your lights. Sit on those tracks and wait.

Just don’t forget to check for handprints afterward.