The Empty Road at Night

As Sam drove down the desolate, twisting road to his village, the clock struck midnight. Everything had a silver shine from the full moon, yet the air was eerily cold despite the night's splendor. Sam looked out the car window, his headlights cutting through the night to reveal nothing except the long, lonely road in front of him.

Known locally as Whisper Road, he had not intended to go this way, but a detour dragged him down an unknown avenue. Stories of weird happenings were related by locals, including murmurs that seemed to have no source, chilly drafts in the hot summer night, and—most unnerving of all—the appearance of a woman who was only glimpsed and lurked in the shadows. At least he convinced himself that Sam didn't think ghosts existed.

The road appeared to narrow as he continued driving into the night, cramming him between the tall, old trees that bordered it on both sides. The loud ticking of his car's clock served as a reminder of the quiet all around him.

Abruptly, a dense fog swept in, shrouding the road in a hazy, opaque mist. His heart hammering in his chest, he slowed and peered forward. The road felt... haunted, even though it had always been empty.

Suddenly he saw her, a figure half-hidden in the fog by the side of the road. Her head was slightly cocked, her hair covering her face, and she wore a flowing white garment. Uncertain of whether to halt or continue driving, Sam's grip tightened on the wheel.

He rolled down his window a bit and said,

"Do you need help?" Quiet.

She didn't seem to acknowledge him, let alone move. Then, gently, through the hazy darkness, she raised her head and met his gaze. A shiver went down Sam's back. As though they had witnessed countless lifetimes of grief, those eyes were lifeless and hollow.

Pointing down the road, the woman held up her hand. Sam paused as an odd sensation compelled him to obey her unspoken instructions. He pushed forward against his better judgment, his vehicle slinking through the fog. He saw the woman was gone when he looked in his rearview mirror.

However, the quiet was brief. A faint but distinct whisper reverberated throughout his vehicle: Turn back.

He froze and looked around, but there was no one there. Turn back now, the whisper said again, more firmly.

His headlights suddenly spotted an ancient, wrecked automobile with its doors thrown open on the side of the road. Sam's heartbeat accelerated.

Even though it was a warm night, the air surrounding him grew colder, and his breath was audible in the cold. He cautiously got out of his car after stopping it.

He sensed a presence next to him as he got closer to the car—a faint, spectral breath across his neck.

There was only darkness when he turned. He turned his attention back to the abandoned automobile and noticed a faded and battered photo on the front seat.

The image featured a young lady with a really recognizable face. He recognized the woman from the road.

Then he heard her voice again, a tiny whisper in his ear, like though she were being borne by the wind: Thank you.

In an instant, the fog dissipated, and the night fell silent again. The road was deserted when Sam turned.

The woman was no longer there; her last, melancholy murmur lingered in the air, her presence now but a memory.

With a mixture of residual terror and a sense of calm, Sam got back into his car. He knew he would never talk about what had happened that night as he drove off.

However, he would always get a shiver when he crossed Whisper Road, a reminder of the spirit he had encountered and the mysteries that lay beyond that desolate avenue.