The Phantom Driver
I could hardly see a few feet in front of me as I stepped out of the hospital doors, the early morning still pitch black. After a grueling double shift in the ER, my only thought was to get home. My car was in the shop, and I’d missed the last tram. A nasty storm was brewing, the rain coming down in relentless sheets. I told myself I’d just walk home – until a sudden crack of lightning split the sky, so close it made my hair stand on end.
I’d never hitchhiked before and had always promised myself I never would. But standing alone, soaked to the bone, I was starting to reconsider. I told myself that I’d only do it this once – just to escape this storm. I stood by the curb, waving my hand at any car that passed. Each one sped by without so much as a glance my way, leaving me to the rain and thunder. Just as I was giving up hope, a faint glow appeared on the horizon, a pair of headlights slowly growing larger through the rain. It looked like an old truck, the kind you rarely see anymore, and when it pulled up beside me and stopped, I could’ve cried from relief. Without a second thought, I opened the door, hopped in, and slammed it shut behind me.
It wasn’t until I looked over that I noticed something that made my stomach drop: the driver’s seat was empty. The truck was running, but there was no one behind the wheel. I blinked, certain my exhaustion was making me see things, but no. The seat was empty, the wheel unmanned. As I sat there in stunned silence, the truck lurched forward, rolling down the road as if driven by an invisible hand.
My instinct was to bolt, but my body wouldn’t respond. My hands were frozen, clutching the seat as I tried to convince myself that it was some kind of trick, some prank, anything other than what my mind was starting to consider. The truck kept moving faster, the rain pounding against the windows as it steered itself down the road. And then I realized where we were heading – straight toward Windy Falls Bridge.
My breath caught. That bridge was notorious, narrow with sharp turns, and beyond its railing was a drop into the fast-moving river below. My heart pounded as we approached the first sharp bend, the one that curved sharply to the left, the same one that had taken many lives in its time. I tugged desperately on the door handle, but it was locked. I was trapped.
I closed my eyes and muttered a desperate prayer, bracing myself as the truck hurtled toward the curve. But then—something happened. Out of nowhere, a ghostly, pale hand appeared through the driver’s side window, its fingers curling around the wheel. I held my breath, staring, as the hand turned the wheel just enough to navigate us around the bend, guiding the truck carefully. The moment the truck straightened, the hand disappeared.
I felt like I was going to be sick. My heart was racing, and I felt trapped in some kind of twisted nightmare. But before I could gather myself, we approached another curve, and the ghostly hand appeared again, steady and calm as it turned the wheel once more, guiding us smoothly down the winding road. I sat paralyzed, too terrified to even scream, watching the hand reappear each time we approached a new bend in the road.
I don’t know how much time passed, but at some point, the door latch clicked, and I realized I had a chance to get out. I didn’t think twice. I flung the door open and threw myself out of the moving truck, crashing to the wet pavement. I tumbled over myself, bruised and scraped, but I didn’t care. I got to my feet and ran, ran as fast as I could, not daring to look back.
At last, I saw the neon sign of a diner, a welcome glow in the dark. I stumbled in, soaked and shaking, and dropped onto a stool, ordering a coffee. When I finally caught my breath, I told the story to anyone who would listen. The patrons gathered around me as I described the empty truck, the ghostly hand that kept appearing to steer it, and how I barely escaped. They listened, eyes wide with fear, not a sound in the room as I spoke. I could tell they believed me, each of them leaning forward as if the details alone might haunt them.
Then, just as I finished the story, the bell above the door jingled, and two men walked in, laughing and shaking the rain from their clothes. One of them glanced my way, recognition flashing across his face. He pointed at me, nudging his friend.
“Hey,” he said, grinning. “Isn’t that the woman who bailed out of our truck while we were pushing it?”
I stared at them, feeling my face go hot as I processed his words. They explained how their truck had stalled on the bridge, so they’d had to push it while one of them steered from outside the driver’s side window. They’d been laughing about how someone had suddenly leapt out of their truck in the middle of the storm, thinking they were seeing things.
A wave of relief washed over me, the laughter in the diner infectious as I shook my head, barely able to believe it. I was finally able to laugh with them, my heart still pounding but no longer with fear. I bought the guys a coffee as a peace offering, feeling sheepish but overwhelmingly grateful.
As I sat there, watching the storm ease up outside, I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself, realizing I’d gotten caught up in my own ghost story. But one thing’s for sure – I’ll think twice before ever hitchhiking again.
The Ride You'll Never Forget
The road stretched in front of me, a ribbon of asphalt disappearing into the horizon, flanked by fields as empty as my stomach. My thumb was starting to feel numb from holding it up so long. Hitchhiking was a gamble, especially here in the middle of nowhere. But when you’re broke and in desperate need to get home, there aren’t many options.
I shifted the weight of my backpack, glancing around. It was nearing dusk, that hazy time when the sun hovers between setting and deciding to linger. Not the most ideal time to be out, but so far, nothing about today had been ideal.
I had been waiting for close to two hours when a flash of headlights caught my attention. A dark-blue sedan slowed down, almost hesitating, before coming to a stop right next to me. I stepped closer and leaned down, trying to make out the driver through the tinted windows. They rolled the window down just enough for me to see half of a face—dark eyes, thin lips twisted into what could have been a smile or a sneer.
“You headed north?” I asked, trying to keep my voice casual, even though every horror movie I’d ever seen warned me to stay back.
The driver didn’t respond immediately, just kept looking at me. The silence stretched long enough to make me shift uncomfortably. Finally, the driver gave a quick nod. “Get in.”
Alright, I thought. You’ve come this far. I shrugged off my hesitation, swung my backpack over my shoulder, and got into the passenger seat. The interior was dark and smelled faintly of pine air freshener and something else, something metallic. I pushed that thought aside.
“So, where you headed?” I asked, clicking the seatbelt into place.
The driver glanced at me, then back at the road. “North. Just like you said.” He didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t press. Instead, I busied myself by looking out the window, watching the scenery slip by as we picked up speed. It was only after a few minutes of silence that I realized the dashboard was dark. No lights, no dials working. Nothing.
“Uh, looks like your dash is out,” I commented, trying to keep things light.
The driver’s lips twitched. “Yeah. It’s been like that a while.” He didn’t sound concerned, which was… concerning.
I shifted in my seat. “You, uh, do this route often?”
He shrugged. “Here and there. I pick up people like you sometimes. Keeps things… interesting.”
A shiver crawled up my spine. *People like me?* My curiosity and caution wrestled with each other, but in the end, curiosity won.
“People like me? You mean hitchhikers?”
The driver chuckled softly, but there was no humor in it. “Sometimes. Sometimes people with… other things going on. Secrets. Everybody’s got a story, you know?”
Secrets? That one word hit me harder than it should have, and suddenly I felt like I was a specimen pinned under a glass. I tried to laugh it off, keeping my voice as steady as possible. “Well, I don’t have anything too exciting going on. Just trying to get home.”
He turned to me, his face half-shadowed, his eyes glinting in a way that made me want to disappear into the seat. “Everyone’s got something.”
I swallowed, my mouth dry. Maybe he was just a lonely guy, a weirdo but harmless. Still, I felt trapped in the car with him, like I was in a game and he was holding all the cards.
A mile passed. Then another. We’d been driving for maybe thirty minutes when he abruptly turned down a narrow side road. My stomach twisted.
“Uh… where are we going?” My voice sounded high-pitched even to me.
“Shortcut,” he said, his tone clipped. “Cuts off twenty minutes. You want to get home sooner, right?”
“Yeah,” I replied, a little too quickly. “But… I don’t mind taking the long way. Scenery’s nice.”
“No sense in wasting time,” he muttered, and the way he said it made me shiver.
The road became narrower, lined with dense trees that cast deep shadows over the car. I gripped the edge of my seat, my heart thudding in my chest. For a few tense minutes, neither of us spoke. The only sound was the crunch of gravel under the tires.
After what felt like an eternity, the car slowed, pulling over to the side of the road. The driver leaned back in his seat, turning to face me fully, his eyes unreadable.
“Why don’t you take a break, stretch your legs?” he said, his voice oddly gentle.
The way he said it made alarms ring in my head, but I forced a smile. “I’m good, thanks.”
“Suit yourself.” He opened his door and stepped out, walking around to the trunk. I craned my neck to see him rummaging around back there, my mind racing with escape scenarios. My eyes darted to the key in the ignition—gone. My stomach dropped. He took it.
He returned a moment later, holding something long and metallic. A crowbar.
My heart pounded as he walked up to the passenger side, swinging the door open. “Here, hold this,” he said, thrusting the crowbar toward me. I took it automatically, too stunned to do anything else.
“Uh, what’s this for?” My voice shook.
He gave a low laugh, his dark eyes glinting. “The trunk’s jammed. I need you to help me pry it open.”
I stared at him, at the crowbar in my hands. “Why… why do you need me to help you? Couldn’t you just—”
“Do it yourself?” His face was close to mine now, his expression unreadable. “Sure, I could. But isn’t this more fun?”
Fun? My mind raced. This was getting stranger by the second. I glanced toward the empty road, the trees pressing in, realizing with dread how isolated we were. With shaking hands, I climbed out of the car, holding the crowbar like a shield. The driver didn’t seem to notice. He just led me to the back of the car, nodding toward the trunk.
“Go on. Give it a try.”
With one last glance at him, I wedged the crowbar into the edge of the trunk and pushed, half-expecting it to spring open and reveal… well, I didn’t know what I was expecting. Blood, maybe. Body parts.
Instead, there was just… junk. A spare tire, a toolbox, and a few scattered clothes. I turned to him, confused. “Uh… this doesn’t look jammed.”
He grinned, shrugging. “Guess I just wanted to see what you’d do.”
My mouth dropped open. “What?”
“I could tell you were nervous,” he said, his voice smooth as silk. “Thought I’d have a little fun.”
I didn’t know whether to laugh or punch him. He just smirked and tossed me the keys, motioning for me to get back in the car. My heart was still pounding, but there was something about the whole thing, the way he chuckled to himself, that made me exhale in relief. He was a weirdo, sure—but probably harmless.
As I slid into the passenger seat and clicked my seatbelt, he turned to me with that same unsettling grin. “Ready?”
We drove in silence after that, the tension finally starting to fade as the trees thinned and the open road stretched before us. Eventually, I broke the silence.
“You’re… not as creepy as you look, you know?” I said, trying to mask my nerves with a grin.
He laughed, a deep, genuine laugh. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself.” He winked, and for the first time, I felt like maybe this was just a bizarre story to tell one day.
He dropped me off an hour later, just outside of my town, waving goodbye with a mischievous grin. I watched as his car vanished down the road, and for the first time in hours, I laughed—a real laugh, as loud as I could.
Dead-End Ride
There I was, on the side of a narrow, empty road in the middle of Nowhere, Texas. The sky was just beginning to blush into evening, and I still hadn’t secured a ride. My legs were tired from walking all day, my phone was dead, and the closest town wasn’t exactly a quick stroll away.
Just when I was contemplating whether the local cacti would mind a sleepover buddy, headlights appeared from the bend down the road. I stuck out my thumb, waving it around like it was the best offer in town. The car slowed—a battered green Ford, the kind with more rust than paint.
The passenger window rolled down with an excruciating squeak, and a face popped out: a grizzled man with eyes like coffee grounds, scruffy hair, and a grin that made me think of every “Wanted” poster I’d ever seen. He looked at me and chuckled, “Where ya headed, buddy?”
I shrugged. “As far as you’re going?”
He laughed, this hearty, almost manic laugh that went on a beat too long. “Get in then. Just don’t mess with the radio—she’s real touchy.”
The inside of the car was worse than the outside. Stacks of fast food wrappers and empty bottles cluttered the floor, and the air smelled like it had absorbed every burrito this man had ever eaten. But hey, beggars and choosers. I clicked my seatbelt, and we lurched back onto the road with a jolt that nearly fused my spine to the seat.
After a few minutes of silence, he looked over, eyes glinting in the dim light. “Ever hitchhiked before?”
I nodded. “A few times. Nothing like this, though.”
He let out that laugh again. “Guess you could say I’m a professional. Pick up all kinds of folks. You meet the best people on the road.”
My stomach twinged as I caught his gaze. “And the worst?”
He smiled wide. “You’d be surprised what people’ll do when they think no one’s looking.”
A nervous chuckle escaped me. I tried to focus on the blur of desert outside, but the man kept glancing over, like he was sizing me up. I noticed a little scar on his neck, just above his collar. It looked fresh, like someone tried to take a swipe at him.
Trying to break the silence, I asked, “So, uh, do you travel for work?”
“Not exactly,” he said, scratching his neck. “I’m more of a... free agent.” He looked over, giving me a long, hard look. “You ever been a free agent?”
I was unsure what to make of the question. “Not really,” I said, shrugging. “I usually stick to one job at a time.”
He grinned, that same too-wide smile. “Smart. Gets complicated otherwise.”
The conversation kept slipping into weird pauses, like he was trying to calculate something. A glance down to his hands confirmed that his nails were gnarly, dirty as if he’d been digging in the ground. For what, I didn’t want to know.
A chill started creeping up my spine. I thought about asking him to let me out, but we were in the middle of nowhere. Walking wasn’t an option.
“So, you got a family?” he asked suddenly, eyes fixated on me like a hawk.
“Yeah,” I lied. “Wife, kids—whole deal.”
He didn’t miss a beat. “How nice. Family’s important. Got a brother myself. Lives close by.” He let out another chuckle, low and dark. “We haven’t spoken in a while, though.”
I forced a smile and nodded, gripping the door handle. The idea of “jumping out of a moving car” seemed more appealing by the second.
As we crested a hill, something caught my eye—a rickety gas station with a busted neon sign. A broken-down truck was parked outside, its lights flickering. It was the first sign of civilization I’d seen in miles, and it seemed like my best chance to escape this bizarre ride.
I cleared my throat, forcing as much calm as I could muster. “Hey, think you could drop me off here? I, uh, need to use the restroom.”
His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, he just stared at me. Then he shrugged, pulling over. “Suit yourself.”
I unbuckled, trying to seem casual, and grabbed my backpack. “Thanks for the lift, man. Safe travels.”
As I stepped out, he leaned over, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Stay safe, buddy. You never know who might pick you up out here.”
I laughed nervously, practically sprinting toward the gas station as he pulled away, tires kicking up dust. Once inside, I leaned against the door, catching my breath. The gas station was empty except for the clerk—a kid with headphones in, scrolling on his phone. I waved him over, praying he could call me a cab or something.
But before I could ask, the kid gave me a look and jerked his thumb toward the road. “Hey, man, you got out of that guy’s car?”
I froze. “Yeah… why?”
He pulled out one headphone, his face pale. “Dude, that guy’s been all over the news—there’s a warrant out on him for all kinds of stuff. They’ve been looking for him for months. People go missing around here, man.”
I laughed, a little too loudly, brushing it off even as my heart pounded in my chest. “Ha! Funny story, huh? Lucky for me, I guess.”
The kid just stared at me, wide-eyed. “Lucky? He was here last week, looking for ‘supplies.’ You dodged a bullet, dude.”
I glanced out the window, half-expecting to see those familiar headlights coming back for me. The road was empty, just a shadowy stretch into the desert.
As I tried to calm my racing heart, the kid handed me his phone. “You might want to call someone. This area’s not safe for hitchhikers right now.”
Nodding, I dialed a number, thinking I’d call a friend to pick me up. But before I could complete the call, the door creaked open behind me, and in walked another figure—a man, different from the driver, but with the same unsettling grin.
I froze as he approached. He looked me up and down, that same predatory gleam in his eye. “Well, look who made it all the way here. Heard you were hitchhiking.”
And just like that, I realized one unsettling truth: I’d traded one dark road for another.