The Hitchhiker's Curse: A Ride to Hell

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The Hitchhiker's Curse: A Ride to Hell

Driving alone at night can be eerie, but for Tom, it was just another long drive home. The road stretched endlessly, cutting through the thick, silent forest. He turned on the radio, hoping to drown out the solitude with some music. The signal crackled, and he sighed, frustrated.

Then, in the dim glow of his headlights, he saw a figure by the roadside. A hitchhiker.

Tom hesitated. Picking up strangers was never a good idea, but something about the man seemed off yet oddly compelling. Against his better judgment, he slowed down.

"Need a ride?" Tom asked, rolling down his window.

The hitchhiker, a tall man with hollow eyes and a weary expression, nodded. "Thank you. I've been waiting for hours." His voice was deep, carrying a strange echo.

Tom unlocked the door, and the man slid in. The air inside the car suddenly felt colder. Tom shivered but brushed it off.

"Where are you headed?" Tom asked.

"Just down the road," the hitchhiker replied. "A little further ahead."

They drove in silence for a while. The radio, which had been nothing but static earlier, suddenly came alive with a strange, old song. Tom frowned. He hadn’t touched the dial.

"You from around here?" Tom asked, trying to ignore the growing unease.

The hitchhiker turned slowly toward him. "I used to be."

A chill ran down Tom’s spine. The air felt even colder.

"Used to be?" Tom repeated.

The hitchhiker smiled—a slow, eerie smile. "Yes. Until I died on this road ten years ago."

Tom’s hands gripped the steering wheel tighter. "That’s… not funny, man."

The hitchhiker chuckled, but it wasn’t a warm sound. "I don’t joke about these things. You see, every year, I find a driver. A kind soul who offers me a ride."

Tom’s heart pounded. "And what happens to them?"

"They never reach their destination." The hitchhiker’s voice turned hollow, almost inhuman.

Tom slammed his foot on the gas, desperate to get out of this nightmare. The road ahead twisted and turned, but no matter how fast he drove, he couldn’t shake the icy presence beside him.

"It’s no use," the hitchhiker whispered. "You’ve already invited me in."

The headlights flickered. The road disappeared into darkness. The car trembled as if something was trying to pull it off the asphalt.

Tom screamed as the hitchhiker’s form melted into a shadowy mass, wrapping around him like a suffocating fog. The last thing he heard was his own voice echoing in the endless void.

Days later, his abandoned car was found on the side of the road—engine running, door open, but no sign of Tom.

And the legend of the hitchhiker’s curse lived on.

But that wasn't the end of the story.

A week later, a young couple, Jake and Emily, were driving down the same road. Emily had heard the local legends and felt uneasy.

"Jake, can we take another route? This road gives me the creeps," she said, gripping her seatbelt tightly.

Jake chuckled. "Come on, Em. It's just a road. Those ghost stories are just made up to scare kids."

Emily sighed and looked out the window. The trees seemed to close in, their branches stretching toward the road like skeletal fingers. The darkness felt heavier.

Then, in the distance, they saw him.

A lone figure standing by the roadside, his silhouette barely illuminated by their headlights.

"No way..." Emily whispered, her heart pounding.

Jake slowed down. "It’s just a guy. Maybe his car broke down."

Emily grabbed his arm. "Jake, don’t. Just drive!"

But it was too late. The hitchhiker had already lifted his hand in a slow, deliberate wave.

Jake hesitated before rolling down the window. "Hey, man, you okay? Need a lift?"

The hitchhiker’s face was obscured by shadows, but his voice was familiar. "I’ve been waiting..."

Emily's breath hitched. The air inside the car turned ice cold. "Jake, go! Now!"

Jake hesitated for a second too long.

The hitchhiker took a step forward. His face became clear in the dim light—hollow eyes, gaunt cheeks, and a slow, creeping smile. "I’ve been waiting for you."

The car engine sputtered and died. The radio crackled, playing the same eerie old song from before.

Emily screamed.

The hitchhiker reached out, his fingers elongating into shadowy tendrils. They wrapped around Jake’s arms, pulling him closer.

"No! Let go of him!" Emily cried, fumbling for the door handle.

The world around them twisted, the trees melting into a swirling void. The road disappeared. The only thing that remained was the hitchhiker’s hollow laughter.

And then, silence.

When the police found the car the next morning, Emily was sitting in the driver’s seat, shaking uncontrollably. Jake was gone.

"He took him," Emily whispered over and over. "He took him."

No one believed her.

But the legend continued.

Drivers still report seeing a lone figure standing by the roadside, waiting for his next ride.

Some say he’s searching for Tom.

Others say he’s looking for someone new.

So the next time you see a hitchhiker on a lonely road at night, think twice before stopping.

You may never reach your destination.