The Passenger

Ella had always been an early riser, even when the world around her was still wrapped in darkness. On this particular morning, she had an early flight to catch, so she dragged herself out of bed at 3:30 a.m. The streets were empty, the city still asleep.

She caught a taxi outside her apartment building, the familiar sound of her boots clicking against the pavement echoing in the quiet. As she slid into the backseat, she greeted the driver with a tired smile.

“Airport, please.”

The driver didn’t respond, just nodded. Ella settled in, closing her eyes for a moment, letting the hum of the car lull her into a drowsy state. The soft streetlights flickered by, casting eerie shadows on the road.

When she opened her eyes again, she realized the city looked different. It wasn’t the familiar route she had grown used to. The buildings seemed older, the street signs unfamiliar. She leaned forward, furrowing her brow.

“Excuse me,” she called, but the driver didn’t respond.

“Hey, where are we going?”

Still no answer. The car kept driving, smoothly, down an increasingly desolate street. The road seemed to stretch on endlessly, with no other cars in sight. Her stomach knotted with unease.

“Can you please stop?” Ella asked, her voice a little sharper now. “I think I’m lost.”

The driver’s head never turned, but he gave a small nod.

“We’re almost there,” he said, his voice low, almost too calm.

Something about it made Ella shiver. The car finally slowed and pulled to a stop in front of a strange building. It wasn’t the airport. The architecture was old, decayed—like something out of a nightmare.

“I’m not getting out,” she said firmly, her heart pounding. “Take me to the airport.”

But the driver didn’t respond.

“Get out,” he said softly, his voice now a whisper. “It’s time.”

Ella’s eyes widened. The darkness outside seemed to press in against the windows, suffocating. She reached for the door handle, but it wouldn’t budge. The door was locked. She pulled harder, but it was useless.

The driver finally turned his head to face her, and when he did, her blood froze.

His face was hollow. Pale. His eyes—dark, empty pits, like something had taken all the light from his soul. And that grin, wide and unnatural, stretched across his face.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he whispered.

Ella’s pulse raced, panic rising like a wave in her chest. She began to scream, but no sound came out.

With a sudden jerk, the car sped forward, pulling her away from the abandoned building. The world outside the window flickered and warped, like a bad dream. The city she had once known was gone, replaced by streets she didn’t recognize. The lights in the car flickered, and the driver’s face shifted, twisting into something worse, something inhuman.

Ella’s hands shook, desperately trying to open the door, but it was no use. The road stretched on forever, and the driver’s grin never wavered.

She looked at him one last time.

And then, the car disappeared.

The next morning, Ella’s apartment was silent.

But at the bus stop near her building, there was an old taxi parked at the curb. The driver waited.

And next to him, a small passenger seat remained empty.