The Road That Doesn’t End

Elias Byrne had never been the kind of man to believe in village folklore.

When work took him to the remote mountain town of Harrow Ridge the quietness felt like a relief from the noise of the city. Rows of pine trees lined the narrow roads and the houses had the same weathered look as if they’d been there for centuries.

But from the first day people seemed too eager to give advice.

At the small grocery store the old shopkeeper a thin man with a weathered face, leaned across the counter. You will hear stories about the Ridge he said. Pay them no mind except one. Never drive down Hollow Lane after sunset.

Elias smirked. And why’s that?

The old man is expression did not change. Because you won't come back the same way you left.

Over the week he heard the same warning from his landlord the waitress at the diner even the postman. It was always Hollow Lane. No explanations. Just the same sentence Do not go after sunset.

Elias laughed it off. Probably some superstition to keep outsiders from getting lost in the dark.

On the eighth night boredom pushed him into the driver’s seat.

The moon was a silver coin in the sky the air crisp. His phone showed the time 9:47 p m The perfect hour to prove there was nothing to fear.

Hollow Lane began like any other road cracked asphalt a white dividing line fading into the dark. The pines closed in on both sides, their branches reaching like fingers. Elias turned up the radio letting the hum of an old blues song fill the car.

After fifteen minutes something nagged at him.

He should have hit the curve that led back toward the highway. But the road ahead was still straight. The same trees The same shadows.

He drove another ten minutes. No curve. No signposts. Just endless blacktop.

A knot formed in his stomach.

He slowed the car headlights cutting through mist that seemed to appear out of nowhere. Glancing in the rearview mirror, his heart skipped. The road behind him… looked exactly the same as the road ahead.

And there was no sign of the town.

Panic began to bloom. He made a U-turn, pressing harder on the gas. After ten minutes the same mist. The same stretch of road. And ahead a dark figure standing in the middle of the lane.

Elias slammed on the brakes tires screeching. The figure did not move It was tall, wrapped in something that hung like a tattered coat. The face was shadowed.

Hey Elias called through the window.

The figure tilted its head just slightly, and Elias felt something cold slide down his spine. It stepped closer, and the closer it came, the more the air around him seemed to thicken.

He floored the accelerator. The figure did not jump aside but as he passed the spot the road blurred for a second and the mist swallowed everything again.

When he finally saw lights ahead relief surged. He recognized the diner is neon sign. Parking crookedly, he stumbled inside, heart still pounding.

The waitress looked up, startled. You are out late she said, pouring coffee into a chipped mug.

Yeah he muttered. Took a drive Hollow Lane.

The mug froze halfway to the table.

Her eyes sharpened. What time did you go?

Around ten. I was gone maybe an hour

She cut him off. You have been gone for three days.

The mug slid from his hand shattering on the floor.

That night Elias stayed awake in his rented room staring at the shadows on the ceiling. His phone still read the date he’d left. But everyone in town insisted otherwise. He checked his gas tank it was full as if he’d never driven at all.

He tried to leave Harrow Ridge the next morning but every road he took brought him back to the same pine lined street where his house stood.

By the fourth day he stopped trying. The locals no longer met his eye. And every night as the mist began to curl at the edges of town he heard footsteps outside his door Slow. Measured Getting closer

He never opened the door

But sometimes when the footsteps pause he swears he hears a whisper through the wood.

And it says his name.

If you are ever in Harrow Ridge and someone warns you about Hollow Lane, do not laugh Do not go looking for it Because some roads are not just roads they are traps And once you have set your wheels on them time won’t follow you home.