Ryan hated driving at night, but work often left him with no choice. Tonight was one of those nights—a long stretch of highway cutting through endless darkness. His car’s headlights carved a narrow path through the mist as he drove, music humming faintly from the radio.
It started with a shape at the side of the road. A woman, standing in the shadows, barely visible through the fog. Ryan slowed down. She raised a hand, palm out, signaling for help.
He pulled over, heart pounding. She approached the passenger-side window. Pale face, dark hair clinging to her wet cheeks. Her eyes were wide and hollow.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She nodded. “Can you give me a ride?”
Against his better judgment, Ryan unlocked the door. She slipped inside, her damp dress clinging to her thin frame.
“Where are you headed?”
She smiled faintly. “Just down the road.”
They drove in silence. The temperature in the car seemed to drop. Ryan glanced at her through the rearview mirror. Her reflection was blurry, distorted. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. This time, she was perfectly clear—too clear. Her face was pale as bone. Her lips were slightly parted, and her breath fogged the glass.
“You okay?” he asked.
She didn’t answer.
A few miles down the road, Ryan’s headlights illuminated an old bridge. The woman’s hand suddenly gripped his arm, freezing cold.
“Stop the car,” she whispered.
Ryan’s pulse hammered. “Why?”
She turned toward him, her eyes black pits of emptiness. “Because this is where I died.”
Ryan slammed on the brakes. The woman’s face twisted into a grotesque grin as her body dissolved into black smoke. The car’s engine sputtered and died.
Ryan scrambled to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. The bridge ahead was old and broken, missing huge sections of railing. He realized too late that the car was rolling forward—toward the edge.
He screamed, twisting the wheel. The woman’s reflection appeared in the windshield, staring back at him with dead eyes.
“You brought me back,” she whispered.
The car surged over the edge. Ryan braced for the crash—but it never came.
Instead, he was standing on the side of the road. His car was gone. The woman stood beside him, smiling. Her hand slid into his.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “You’re with me now.”
A week later, someone else was driving down that same dark road. A figure stood at the side, raising a pale hand for help. A young man pulled over.
“Need a ride?”
Ryan smiled. “Just down the road.”