The Shadow Returns

Life went back to normal after the nightmare, or so I thought. For days, I couldn’t shake off the vivid imagery of that terrifying dream. The rain, the curfew, the taxi, and the gun—it all felt so real. My mom dismissed it as a side effect of my late-night thriller marathons.

But things took a strange turn exactly one week later, on another Friday evening.

The day was unusually quiet at school, the kind of quiet that makes you uncomfortable for no reason. My friends left early after class, leaving me alone to wait for my extra session. When it ended, I noticed that the sky had turned an unsettling shade of gray. A cold breeze swept through the streets, carrying with it the scent of rain.

I looked at my watch.

6:40 PM.

My heart skipped a beat. A strange sense of déjà vu crept over me. Dismissing it as my imagination, I walked briskly to the bus stop, hoping to catch an early bus. But as I turned the corner, I froze in my tracks.

The bus stop was empty—eerily empty. A piece of paper fluttered against the lamppost, but there was no sound, not even the hum of distant traffic. And then, as if on cue, my phone buzzed with an alert message:

“Islandwide curfew activated. All residents must remain indoors.”

The blood drained from my face. The exact same scenario as my nightmare was playing out.

“No way,” I muttered, gripping my phone tightly. Was I dreaming again? I pinched myself hard—nope, wide awake. The rumble of thunder broke the silence, and raindrops began falling, just like before.

I sprinted to the bus stop, hoping this time I could make it. But as I reached the stop, I saw the last bus driving away, its taillights disappearing into the distance. My breathing quickened.

A flash of lightning illuminated the road, and there it was: the taxi from my dream. The same old, battered vehicle with glowing headlights.

“No. This isn’t real,” I whispered, taking a step back. But the taxi rolled to a stop right in front of me. The window lowered, revealing a face that sent shivers down my spine—the same driver from the nightmare.

“Need a ride?” he asked, his voice calm yet unnerving.

I hesitated. This wasn’t possible. This was just a dream… wasn’t it? But everything felt too real—the chill in the air, the raindrops pelting my skin, the faint smell of cigarette smoke wafting from the taxi.

“Come on, it’s pouring,” the driver said, flashing a crooked smile.

Against every ounce of logic, I nodded and climbed in, telling myself I’d regret it later. The driver started the engine, and the taxi jerked forward.

“You’re going home, right?” he asked, glancing at me through the rearview mirror. His eyes held something I couldn’t decipher.

“Y-yeah,” I stammered.

But once again, he didn’t take the usual route. My heart raced as the surroundings grew unfamiliar. Buildings gave way to trees, and the streetlights became sparse.

“This isn’t the way to my house,” I said, my voice shaking.

“Relax, kid,” he replied, his tone unsettling. “We’ll get there… eventually.”

Fear gripped me. My mind raced through possible escape plans, but the doors were locked, just like in the dream.

Finally, the car stopped in front of the same abandoned bungalow. This time, though, the place looked even more sinister. Shadows danced in the windows, and the air felt thick, almost suffocating.

The driver turned to me, his smile gone. “Out.”

I hesitated, and he banged the dashboard, startling me. “I said, OUT!”

As I stepped out into the rain, I realized something was different. My hands weren’t tied, and the driver didn’t pull out a gun. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out… a phone.

“Say cheese!” he said with a grin, snapping a picture of my stunned face.

“What the…?” I began, but he interrupted.

“Relax, kid. This is for my prank channel. You’re going viral!”

I stared at him in disbelief as he laughed uncontrollably. My nightmare, my fear, everything—it had all been staged.

Then I noticed a camera crew emerging from behind the bungalow, their faces lit with amusement. One of them handed me a towel. “You’ve been punked, man. Great reactions!”

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “This… this isn’t funny!” I yelled, my voice cracking.

“Oh, it is,” the driver said, still chuckling. “Come on, kid. You’ll laugh about it later.”

And honestly? I eventually did. But that night, as I rode home (this time in a real taxi), I couldn’t shake the feeling that the nightmare and reality were connected in ways I didn’t yet understand. Something told me this wasn’t the last time I’d see that driver.