The Woman in White

Edward was driving along a back road on his way home from the All Hallows Eve party. The forested area was dark and seemed extra gloomy. The trees wilted more than usual, a light fog hung in the air, and the moon itself seemed to be hiding away. Even the car’s headlights were in a state of melancholy, illuminating the winding road ahead much less than Ed would have liked. He sat stiff in his seat. He had made this drive a hundred times before, but tonight at the clock’s third hour, it felt unusual, unsafe, unhinged.

His eyes felt dry, so he took a long blink. He opened them and nearly jumped through the roof of his tiny sedan. As fast as his exhausted and not entirely sober mind could react, he slammed on the brakes as hard as he could. The car’s nose dived sharply, and its rear end shook violently side to side. The woman standing in the road, clad in a grandiose and extravagant white dress, did not move nor even flinch as the car screeched into her. Ed cursed loudly as his car finally came to rest at the exact spot where the woman had been standing.

He sat frozen, breathing heavily, staring at his dashboard. It was a long moment before he could peel his eyes away from a small stain just above the gauge cluster. He slowly raised his head and peered out the windshield, terrified of what he might see. The darkest recesses of his mind conjured up an image of a contorted woman lying mangled in a white dress on the shoulder of the road. But alas, she was not there. “She must have gone over the car,” he whispered. He swallowed with a loud gulp as he worked up the courage to check the rear view mirror.

“Take me home.” The voice startled Ed so hard that he smacked his head against the ceiling. The woman was in the passenger’s seat, not 12 inches from where he sat. Her face was expressionless, and her manner that of profound melancholy. She was both beautiful and disheveled at the same time. Her makeup nearly perfect, yet not exactly symmetrical. Her hair was pinned up but appeared hastily done. Her dress was exquisite, yet had small tears and faded stains here and there. Ed was both terrified and infatuated at the same time.

His freeze instinct suddenly changed to flight, and he reached for the door handle. He pulled and yanked, but the door would not budge. It was not locked, at least not physically. “Take me home,” the woman said again. Ed stuttered and stammered. His tongue was dry and hairy, unable to form words. The woman’s voice filled the car, “Take me home!” she demanded. The car suddenly began moving on its own. Ed’s hands, now white and numb from gripping the steering wheel so tightly, were flung back as the car accelerated. He stomped on the brake pedal, but it did nothing. The car picked up speed and swayed through the curves as if piloted by a Formula One driver. The needle on the speedometer passed 40, 50, 60. A bridge up ahead struck a new fear in Ed. The legend of the woman in white flashed into his mind, and he suddenly knew, this was the end. He frantically tried the door handle again, but as before, the door would not budge. As the bridge neared, he pleaded with the ghost. “Please let me out, please let me live!”

“I am home,” the woman said in an eerily calm voice. The car bounced with a mild thump as it moved onto the bridge. His heart pounding became the only sound he could hear. The steering wheel suddenly spun to the right, the car jerked, and crashed through the railing. Panic overwhelmed Ed as the sensation of falling set in.

A great spasm jerked Ed awake. He braced and gripped anything he could get his hands on, then, slowly, the panic began to fade. His car was not falling; in fact, it was not moving at all. There was no woman in the passenger’s seat; Ed was alone in the vehicle. He cautiously looked around. He had fallen asleep at the wheel, and his car had come to a stop amongst some bushes on the side of the road. He took a deep breath and sighed with relief.