Sora 2
This happened to me a few years ago, and I still can’t explain it. I was heading home late one night after staying too long at a friend’s place. It was already past midnight, and the streets were nearly empty. I decided to take a tricycle since it was the only thing still passing by. The driver didn’t say much—just nodded when I told him where I lived. At first, everything felt normal. The engine hummed, the wind was cool, and the roads were quiet. Too quiet. Then I noticed something strange. We weren’t taking the usual route. “Kuya, this isn’t the way,” I said. He didn’t respond. I leaned forward a bit, trying to see his face in the side mirror—but I couldn’t. It was like the mirror was too dark, like it was reflecting something else. That’s when the engine suddenly died. We stopped right in front of an old, abandoned house I had never seen before. “Kuya?” I called out. No answer. My chest tightened. I slowly stepped out of the tricycle. And that’s when I realized— There was no driver. The seat was empty. I froze. I was sure someone had been there just seconds ago. Then I heard it. A voice, coming from inside the house. “Don’t leave yet.” I didn’t think. I ran. I ran as fast as I could, not daring to look back, not caring where I was going. After what felt like forever, I reached a main road where a few people were still around. I turned back. The street I came from was gone. No house. No tricycle. Nothing. The next day, I asked around. No one knew of any abandoned house in that area. But one old man told me something I wish I never heard: “Late at night,” he said, “some rides don’t take you home.” I never ride alone past midnight anymore.