A lonely stretch of highway. No lights. No cars. Just me and the hum of tires on pavement—until she appeared. A lone woman stood at the roadside, thumb raised, exactly where no one should be.

Against my better judgment, I stopped. She slid in silently, her presence chilling the air. Her low, eerie voice told of a hitchhiker and a driver who vanished without a trace. For a moment, her face shifted—wrong somehow, inhuman.

When we reached a gas station, she stepped out without a word. In my mirror, her black, unblinking eyes locked on mine. That look still haunts me.

I’ll never know what she was, but I learned one thing on that dark road: some passengers are better left waiting.