Nigeria
personalblog234에 의해It was 1:13 AM when Kunle finally decided to close the Uber app for the night. Rain hammered the windshield, and he was exhausted. His back hurt, fuel was low, and the streets of Lagos felt heavier than usual.
But just as he swiped “Go Offline,” a new request popped up.
The phone didn’t ring.
It didn’t vibrate.
It just… appeared.
Pickup Location: Unknown Road.
Destination:
Fare: ₦58,000
Kunle blinked.
Was it a glitch?
People don’t pay that much for a night ride.
He hesitated.
Then whispered: “Last one… just last one.”
He accepted.
The map flickered, then went black for a second before showing a lonely stretch of road he’d never seen.
When he arrived, he saw her.
A woman standing under the rain.
Wearing… a wedding dress.
White. Torn. Dripping.
She didn’t run toward the car.
She didn’t wave.
She just… watched him.
Slowly, she opened the back door and entered, without saying a word.
Kunle swallowed.
The moment she sat down, his Uber app locked itself, and the map zoomed in with new words:
“Return Her Home.”
Kunle started the engine.
The air inside the car instantly turned cold so cold his breath fogged.
He forced a smile.
“Good evening, ma. Congratulations on uh—your wedding?”
Silence.
She didn’t move, didn’t blink.
Her face was stunning but pale, like someone who hadn’t seen sunlight in years.
Kunle tried again.
“Where exactly is ‘home’, ma?”
This time she answered.
But her voice didn’t sound right.
It sounded layered—like two or three voices speaking at once.
“Just drive.”
Kunle gripped the steering wheel.
The radio suddenly burst into static, drowning the car.
He reached to turn it off, but it wouldn’t stop.
Then he looked into the rearview mirror.
He saw the backseat.
He saw the window.
He saw the flickering streetlights behind them.
But he did NOT see her.
His heart froze.
He slammed the brakes.
The woman leaned forward, her face appearing inches from his ear.
“Driver…”
Her voice icy, calm.
“Do you want to live? Keep going.”
Kunle stepped on the accelerator.
The Uber map began rerouting itself without warning taking them off the express and into narrow side roads.
Roads that didn’t look like they belonged in the city.
Old mud shrines.
Broken signposts.
Abandoned houses.
Kunle had been driving for seven years.
He’d never seen these roads in his life.
His phone battery dropped from 72% to 18% instantly.
“Madam, are you sure about this way? I don’t think”
“Left,” she said.
He obeyed.
As they continued, he noticed silhouettes along the roadside.
Dozens of them.
Men. Women. Children.
Standing completely still.
Watching the car pass.
Some bowed.
Others whispered.
Kunle’s chest tightened.
“Who… who are they?”
“They remember me,” the bride whispered.
Kunle didn’t ask again.
Rain softened.
The road widened into a quiet clearing.
Kunle inhaled deeply.
“Madam… forgive my curiosity, but… why are you dressed for a wedding at this time of night?”
For the first time, her expression shifted.
Her eyes softened.
Her voice became single-toned—almost human.
“I was on my way to my wedding,” she whispered.
“But I never arrived.”
Kunle frowned.
“You mean… you were kidnapped?”
She didn’t answer.
The silence felt heavier.
Kunle reached for his phone to check her Uber profile.
For two hours, it had been blank.
But now…
A name slowly appeared.
And beneath it:
STATUS: DECEASED
