Woman in White

Chapter One - The Asphalt Vein

The highway at night was a vein of dull silver, stretching endlessly into the black belly of the Carolina countryside. Miles of asphalt shimmered under the moon, broken by the rhythmic thump of expansion joints, like a heartbeat too slow for the living. Fog had rolled in thick from the marshlands, curling over the guardrails and swallowing the treeline.

Evan Carter leaned forward in his seat, squinting through the mist. His wipers dragged back and forth, squealing with each pass. He’d been on I-72 for nearly an hour without seeing another car.

“That’s the thing about night driving,” his sister, Lila, murmured from the passenger seat. She was curled up under a blanket, her knees pulled to her chest. “The road feels like it’s only for you. Until you remember you’re not the only thing out here.”

Evan glanced at her. Lila always had a way of making even an observation sound like an omen. “You mean deer,” he said.

She didn’t answer. She was staring out the window at the fog.

The hum of the tires and the low growl of the engine were the only sounds for a while. They were heading back to Raleigh from a family gathering, their parents’ voices still echoing in Evan’s mind — his mother’s brittle laugh, his father’s clipped comments about Evan’s job situation. Lila had been the one to insist on leaving early, claiming she had a migraine.

It was Lila who noticed her first.

“Evan,” she said sharply.

His eyes jerked forward, scanning the mist. There — maybe a hundred feet ahead — was a figure standing on the shoulder of the road. She was impossibly pale in the moonlight, a woman in a long white dress that fluttered faintly as if in a breeze Evan couldn’t feel.

He eased off the gas.

“What the hell…” he murmured.

The woman didn’t move. Her head was tilted slightly down, her hair — long, dark, and wet-looking — hanging forward to hide her face.

“Pull over,” Lila said.

“What? No way.”

“She could be hurt.”

“She could be crazy.”

The woman stepped forward.

Evan’s breath caught. She didn’t step so much as glide, her feet hidden beneath the hem of her dress. The fabric trailed along the asphalt, clean despite the damp.

Lila’s hand gripped his arm. “Evan—”

The woman turned her head toward them.

Her face was pale as bone, her eyes wide and unblinking. She lifted one arm slowly, palm out, in a silent plea.

Evan swerved into the left lane, passing her without stopping. He kept his eyes on the road, refusing to look in the rearview mirror. His pulse thundered in his ears.

Lila twisted in her seat. “She’s gone.”

He risked a glance. The fog had closed in again, the shoulder empty.

Chapter Two - Exit 112

They didn’t speak for several miles. The silence pressed at Evan, thick as the mist.

“You saw her, right?” Lila finally asked.

“Yeah.”

“She wasn’t—”

“Don’t,” Evan cut in. “Don’t say it.”

“You think she was a ghost.”

“I think she was someone dressed in white trying to freak people out.”

Lila gave him a long look. “She looked dead, Ev.”

The word made something crawl under his skin. He turned on the radio just to have another sound in the car. Static hissed before settling into an oldies station, the tinny voice of Patsy Cline threading through the air.

Fifteen minutes later, they passed a battered green sign: EXIT 112 – MARSH HOLLOW – 2 MILES.

Lila shifted uncomfortably. “This isn’t the road where—”

“Where what?”

She hesitated. “Never mind.”

But he knew that tone. “Where what, Lila?”

“There’s this story,” she said reluctantly. “One of those old urban legends. A woman in white hitchhiking at night, right along this stretch. People say she’s looking for a ride home, but when you stop, she either disappears from your car before you get there… or she asks you to take her to a house that burned down decades ago. They call her the Lady in White.”

Evan forced a laugh. “So, you’re saying we just saw a ghost that everyone already knows about.”

“I’m saying people disappear out here.”

The words hung in the air like the fog — cold, heavy, and refusing to drift away.

Chapter Three - The Shoulder

The next hour passed in creeping inches of visibility. The fog grew so thick Evan could barely see beyond his high beams. His knuckles ached from gripping the steering wheel.

He almost missed her the second time.

She was standing in the exact same spot on the shoulder as before — a hundred feet ahead, facing the road. The same dress, the same hair, the same impossible stillness.

Evan slammed the brakes.

The car skidded slightly before coming to a stop just yards away from her. Lila’s breath came in short bursts.

“She’s right there,” Lila whispered.

The woman raised her hand again.

Evan’s pulse thundered in his temples. He could see her face clearly now: pale, yes, but too perfect, almost like porcelain. No lines, no blemishes. Her lips barely moved, but he thought he saw them form a single word.

Please.

Against every instinct, Evan rolled the window down an inch. Cold damp air poured into the car.

“Are you hurt?” he called.

The woman tilted her head, her eyes locking on his. They were gray — not the cloudy gray of cataracts, but deep, cold, endless gray, like storm water that never sees the sun.

“Take me home,” she said.

Her voice was barely above a whisper, yet it carried as if she were standing inside the car.

Evan’s breath came shallow. “Where’s home?”

She smiled faintly, and something about it felt wrong — too slow, too measured. “Exit 112.”

Lila shook her head violently. “No. Ev, no.”

But Evan found himself nodding.

If you’d like, I can continue writing the next 1,500 words to push the plot toward the first real confrontation with the Lady in White — where Evan and Lila decide whether to take her, learn more about the legend, and find themselves unable to leave the highway.

Chapter Four - Fogbound

Evan didn’t remember unlocking the doors, but the soft click of the passenger handle made him flinch. The woman opened the back door and slid in without a sound.

The scent came first — not rot, not perfume, but something faintly metallic, like rain on rust. Lila twisted in her seat, her blanket clutched to her chest.

The woman folded her hands neatly in her lap. “Thank you.”

Her voice was calm, almost polite. But her eyes never blinked.

Evan put the car in drive. He told himself he was being cautious, that dropping her off at Exit 112 was safer than leaving her alone on the shoulder in the middle of nowhere. He didn’t let himself think about the stories Lila had mentioned.

The highway swallowed them again.

“What’s your name?” Lila asked.

The woman’s gaze drifted to the fog outside. “Elena.”

Evan kept his eyes forward. “You from Marsh Hollow?”

A pause. “Once.”

The word felt heavy, final.

They drove in silence for a few minutes. The radio hissed with static again before cutting out completely. Evan reached to adjust it, but the knob spun uselessly under his fingers.

From the back seat, Elena spoke. “You should keep both hands on the wheel.”

The tone was not advice. It was a command.

Evan obeyed without thinking.

Chapter Five - Exit 112

The green sign loomed out of the mist sooner than expected, its reflective letters slick with moisture: EXIT 112 – MARSH HOLLOW – 1 MILE.

Lila’s voice was tight. “Ev… I don’t think we should—”

“Almost there,” he said.

The off-ramp was narrow, its asphalt cracked and choked with weeds. As they descended, the fog thickened until the world outside the windshield was just a shifting wall of white.

Evan eased onto the local road, the tires crunching over gravel. The streetlamps here were old, their glass globes yellowed, each halo of light swallowed quickly by the mist.

“Turn left,” Elena said softly.

He did.

The houses they passed were old farmhouses set far back from the road, their windows dark. A few had sagging porches; others looked abandoned altogether.

Elena’s voice guided him again. “Right at the next bend.”

The turn led them onto a narrower road, little more than a lane and a half. The trees on either side loomed tall and wet, their branches sagging under moss.

Evan’s headlights picked out a mailbox leaning at an angle, its paint peeling to reveal gray wood beneath. The numbers were worn away.

“Here,” Elena said.

Evan slowed to a crawl. “Which one?”

The fog shifted, revealing the faint outline of a house — or what had been a house.

It was nothing more than a blackened skeleton, the walls collapsed inward, the chimney still standing like a gravestone. Weeds and vines had claimed the ruin, pushing up through the charred beams. The air smelled faintly of ash, though the fire must have been decades ago.

Lila’s hand clamped onto Evan’s arm. “Ev… let’s go. Now.”

But Elena leaned forward, her breath cold against his ear. “I’m home.”

Chapter Six - Ash and Bone

Something moved in the ruins.

At first Evan thought it was the fog curling through the gaps, but then he saw the shapes — figures, pale and thin, stepping silently between the burned beams. Their eyes reflected the headlights like an animal’s, but their faces were human.

Lila made a small sound in her throat.

“Who—” Evan began.

“They’re waiting,” Elena said.

Her voice had changed. No longer polite, it carried something hollow, like the echo of a cave.

The back door opened without a sound. Evan hadn’t heard her pull the handle. She stepped out into the mist, her dress brushing the weeds without bending them.

The figures in the ruins turned toward her, and toward the car.

Evan’s hands tightened on the wheel. “Seatbelt,” he told Lila, though his own was already cutting into his chest. “We’re leaving.”

He threw the car into reverse, the tires spinning in the damp gravel before catching. The headlights swung wildly, catching one of the pale figures in their beam.

It wasn’t a man.

Its skin was stretched too tightly over its bones, its mouth open in a soundless scream.

The fog surged in.

When it cleared a second later, the road was empty.

Chapter Seven - The Loop

They drove fast, not speaking, until the road opened again. Evan expected to find a sign for the highway — instead, the battered green shape emerged from the mist:

EXIT 112 – MARSH HOLLOW – 2 MILES

Lila’s voice was a whisper. “No. No, no, no.”

Evan didn’t answer. He pressed the accelerator, the speedometer climbing. But the road ahead looked the same — same cracked asphalt, same yellowed streetlamps, same leaning mailbox.

And then she was there.

Standing on the shoulder, dress fluttering in the same unfelt breeze, eyes fixed on them.

Elena raised her hand.

The static returned to the radio, hissing in time with Evan’s pounding heartbeat.

He drove past without slowing. But when he checked the rearview mirror — against every instinct — she wasn’t behind them.

She was in the back seat.

If you want, I can carry this through the next major story beat, where Evan and Lila realize they can’t leave the loop of Exit 112 without confronting her — giving us the first real supernatural confrontation in detail.

Chapter Eight - Passenger

Evan’s foot slammed the brake. The car skidded sideways on the slick asphalt, tires shrieking.

Lila screamed.

Elena sat in the back seat, perfectly still. Her hands were folded in her lap again, her dress untouched by mud or moisture, though they had just passed her standing on the shoulder.

The air inside the car felt heavier, thicker. It was harder to breathe.

“You—” Evan started, but his voice cracked. “How did you—”

“Home,” she said.

Lila’s hands were fumbling for the door handle, but the locks clicked down by themselves.

“Let us out,” Lila whispered.

Elena’s head turned toward her. That same porcelain face, those endless gray eyes. “It’s too late for that.”

The fog outside shifted, parting just enough for Evan to see movement ahead — the leaning mailbox, the ruin of the house.

They hadn’t turned. They hadn’t even driven more than a few seconds. But they were back at the same spot.

Chapter Nine - The Story

Elena leaned forward, her face between theirs, her hair brushing Evan’s shoulder. It was ice-cold, damp with something thicker than water.

“You want to know what happened here?” she asked.

“No,” Lila said.

“Yes,” Evan said at the same time.

Elena smiled faintly. “It was winter. My husband had been gone for weeks, gambling away the last of our money. I had two children. A boy, six, and a girl, four. We had no wood left for the stove. No food in the cupboard. I went into town to beg. When I came back…”

Her voice didn’t falter, but the air seemed to drop ten degrees.

“The chimney had fallen. The fire spread fast. They couldn’t get out.”

Evan swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

Her eyes cut to him, sharp as glass. “Sorry doesn’t bring them back.”

From the ruins, the pale shapes began to emerge again — more of them this time, spilling out from the charred timbers. They didn’t walk so much as drift, their movements jerky and silent.

“They’re not your children,” Lila said. Her voice shook. “Those things—”

“They’re mine now,” Elena interrupted.

Chapter Ten - The Bargain

Evan’s mind raced. If they stayed here, they weren’t leaving alive.

“What do you want from us?” he asked.

Elena tilted her head. “A ride home.”

“This is your home,” he said.

Her smile widened, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Not anymore. They don’t let me in.” She nodded toward the pale figures. “They’re waiting for someone to take my place.”

Lila’s hand clutched Evan’s sleeve. “Ev. She means one of us.”

The nearest figure stepped into the beam of the headlights. Its mouth hung open wider than humanly possible, a raw blackness inside.

Evan’s pulse roared in his ears.

“What if we refuse?” he asked.

Elena sat back. “Then the road won’t let you go. You’ll keep driving, until the fog takes you too.”