He Only Asked for a Name

The rain was relentless that night. Thunder cracked the sky open again and again, and the road ahead shimmered under the headlights like a black mirror. Zayan drove alone, far from the city, his GPS blinking uselessly before going completely dead. His phone showed No Service.

That was when he saw the boy.

He stood in the middle of the road.

Zayan slammed the brakes. The car skidded, tires screaming, stopping just inches away. His heart pounded as he stared through the windshield. The boy was thin, soaked to the bone, his face hidden behind wet hair hanging over his eyes.

Zayan rolled down the window slightly.

“Hey… are you okay?”

The boy slowly lifted his head. His voice was calm, almost empty.

“I can’t remember my name.”

A strange answer—but leaving a child alone on a stormy road felt wrong.

“Get in,” Zayan said. “I’ll take you to town.”

The boy opened the passenger door and sat down without a word. The moment he did, the air inside the car turned icy cold. Zayan shivered.

He tried turning on the radio. Instead of music, a low whispering sound filled the speakers, overlapping voices speaking words he couldn’t understand. He turned it off quickly.

“Where do you live?” Zayan asked, keeping his eyes on the road.

The boy stared straight ahead.

“Somewhere I was forgotten.”

Zayan swallowed. “What do you mean by that?”

The boy tilted his head slightly.

“When people forget your name… you start disappearing.”

Zayan glanced at the side mirror.

The back seat was empty.

His breath caught in his throat. He looked again at the passenger seat—the boy was still there, sitting calmly, as if nothing was wrong.

“Don’t stop the car,” the boy said softly.

“If you stop… I’ll take your name too.”

Zayan’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Who are you?”

The boy turned to him. For the first time, Zayan saw his eyes—completely black, reflecting no light at all.

“I’m the one who should have been remembered.”

Outside, the rain began to fall upward, climbing the windows instead of sliding down. Road signs appeared twisted, their letters reversed. The world felt wrong, like time itself was folding inward.

Then Zayan saw it.

A graveyard.

The car slowed on its own, no matter how hard he pressed the accelerator.

“No… don’t stop,” Zayan whispered.

The boy placed his hand over Zayan’s. It was freezing cold.

“Just say my name,” he said. “That’s all I need.”

“I don’t know your name!” Zayan shouted.

Dark liquid seeped from the boy’s eyes, trailing down his cheeks.

“You do,” he replied quietly. “You were there.”

Suddenly, memories crashed into Zayan’s mind—

A rainy night.

A small body on the road.

A child lying still.

And a car… driving past without stopping.

Zayan screamed. “No! That wasn’t me!”

The car rolled to a stop at the iron gates of the graveyard. The gates opened by themselves with a low groan.

The boy stepped out.

“Don’t lie,” he said. “You heard my name once. You just chose to forget it.”

A nearby gravestone glowed faintly. Zayan’s legs felt weak as he stepped out and looked closer.

AREEB

Aged 9 Years

Zayan’s lips trembled.

“Areeb…”

The moment he spoke the name, the wind howled violently. The boy’s form became clearer—no longer a shadow, but a small, broken child with sad, tired eyes.

“That’s all,” Areeb said softly. “I just needed someone to say it.”

Slowly, his figure faded, dissolving into the air like mist.

The rain stopped. The road returned to normal. The car engine shut off.

Morning came.

News channels reported a shaken man found near a graveyard, claiming he met a child on the road who only wanted his name remembered.

But the story didn’t end there.

From that night on, whenever Zayan tried to ignore a memory…

whenever he forgot a name on purpose…

he heard a child’s whisper in his ear:

“Forgetting a name… is another way of killing.”