Companion of the Lonely Way

Maya has always been drawn to peaceful settings with just the occasional flutter of leaves and the whispering of the wind. That nightfall, the sun was already lowering, leaving deep shadows on the ground as she meandered along a tiny, empty route leading to an ancient village. With every stride, the route seemed to go on forever into the encroaching darkness, and the air grew colder.

She noticed the fog starting to seep in and swirling about the tree trunks, giving the scene a ghostly appearance. It wasn't just the cold that sent a shudder down Maya's spine; it was a sense that defied explanation, making her feel as though she wasn't alone. She quickly spun around.

Nothing. Just the mist getting thicker and the light disappearing. partly in relief, partly hesitant, she let out a breath.

She spoke up, disturbing the silence, "Who's there?"

Her own words bounced back, quiet and nearly invisible, but there was no answer.

She gave a tense laugh, trying to tell herself it was all her imagination. She could not, however, get rid of the sensation that someone or something was pursuing her.

Maya heard a faint footfall as she carried on walking. It moved when she moved, and stopped when she stopped, exactly matching her speed. Her heart pounded. She picked up her speed in an attempt to get to the path's conclusion sooner, but she could hear the footsteps getting closer behind her.

The quiet was suddenly broken by a quiet, far-off voice saying,

"Maya."

It was virtually a whisper, carried by the wind, and hardly audible. She went cold. Nobody should have known her name because she hadn't told anyone that she would be coming here. She turned around slowly, her hands shaking.

There, where the mist was thickest at the path's edge, she made out a figure—a dark silhouette of a man standing motionless. His features were concealed, but his eyes seemed to stare right at her through the mist. Her voice faltering, she questioned,

"Who are you?"

The figure took a step forward without replying, and with each stride he seemed to fade into the mist until he was completely alone.

Breathless, Maya stood there, waiting for anything. Again there was silence, and the way ahead seemed much more difficult than it had previously.

She started to walk again, her ears straining to pick up even the smallest sound, every sensation a cuted. However, the trail was strangely silent this time, as though no footfall had ever been heard.

She felt a heavy weight on her shoulder as she arrived at the end of the road, right before the village entrance. She turned to see a hand—a chilly, skeletal hand—resting there.

With a gasp, she took a step back and realized that nobody was by her side. However, the cold persisted, clinging to the air as if something invisible would not let her go.

When Maya eventually made it across into the warm glow of the streetlights, she dashed to the settlement. She took one last spin around and glanced back at the desolate trail she had come from.

She caught another glimpse of the man's shadow in the distance, right where the fog was still there. This time, he was just waving, almost like he was saying goodbye, or calling her back.

Even now, Maya can't help but wonder whether her quiet companion is still there, watching, and waiting for her to return every time she strolls down a new street. Though she has never been back down that path, she claims she can still hear his footsteps following her in the stillness of the night during the silent darkness.