The Stranded Passenger.

By Patricia Nicole Tan.

I stood by the roadside, lost and unmoored.

I wore white, a soft dress that clung to me like a memory of innocence. I should’ve been

in church now. Instead, I wandered, through fields so green they felt like a mirage, uncertain of the path, and uncertain, even, of why I was there. Something had brought me here, though I couldn’t remember what. I kept walking, searching for familiarity.

At last, a road lined with shops came into view, and I thought, maybe somewhere will

know.

But when I stopped a child to ask, he stared with a look of pure terror and fled,

screaming. What did he see? My hair, as always, lay freshly straightened, smoothed over the

roughness. But I knew I didn’t look…horrifying. And yet, more people turned to watch, eyes

round with horror. I tried to convince myself it was just Halloween—the pumpkins, the dark

costumes, the whole town dressed in eerie glamor. Perhaps that’s what caused their fear.

Confused and exhausted, I sank onto a worn bench. That’s when the memory pierced

through the fog, sharp as a needle’s point. I had taken a taxi, a black Mirage, and the driver had greeted me kindly, even helping me settle in. I remember he’d promised a quick stop at a gas station. And then he left me, in that dark car, for what felt like hours. Hours of waiting,

suffocating. And still, he didn’t return.

I scanned the road, watching the people who edged away from me, crossing to the other

side with expressions twisted in panic. I just needed directions, someone to help me find my

way. But they kept their distance, pointing at me as if I were a nightmare. I looked down at

myself, my dress, once pure, now soaked in red. Blood. Panic rose in my throat. Had I hurt

someone? My hands felt wrong, my skin pale as ash. What has happened to me?

And then, it came crashing back—the smell of leather, the gloved hands that didn’t

belong, the knife he’d drawn without a word. I remembered now, remembered how his voice had cracked as he whispered that no one would ever know, that he’d walk away untouched. And then came the pain, the deep plunge as he left me in the grass, left me until I drifted away, until breath was just a memory.

No wonder they’re frightened of me. I am no longer human. Just a wandering spirit,

painted in blood, lost and yearning for kindness. They’re repelled by me, by this twisted image of a girl who simply wanted to pray.

Now I know. They won’t help me, but I know who will. I’ll find him—the one who left

me like this. I’ll haunt his steps, like the dark memory he tried to erase, and I will make him see me.

I’ll make sure he feels everything he made me feel.

The Stranded Passenger is an honorable mention from our Halloween contest 'Gothic Tales' written by Patricia - a passionate writer who really loves to express her thoughts through writing. Besides that, she also has hobbies such as badminton and bowling, and she also competes in academic competitions!