The Untitled Drive

On a chilly autumn night, Rebecca decided to take a drive. Nothing clears the mind quite like the hum of the road, and tonight she needed it more than ever. She and Bruno, her scrappy mutt, hitched a ride from their small-town cabin. "Just us tonight, buddy," she said, rolling down the window. Bruno barked out the open window, sniffing at the cool air. They'd been cruising for half an hour when, out of nowhere, something slammed against the front of her car. Her heart jumped to her throat. Panic skidded in with the screech of brakes. Bruno started barking like mad, his paws pressing against the dashboard. Rebecca slowly got out, trembling, reaching the front to find... nothing. No sign of anything, living or otherwise. But she was sure she had hit something. Her hands crumpled her jacket tighter. Was she going insane? As she sat back in, breathing unevenly, and drove on, the shadows seemed to thicken in the reflections. Each mile, the feeling of eyes pressing alongside her amplified. Nervous laughter slipped from her lips as she reassured herself, "Relax, you just need more sleep." Yet, the radio began to crackle with static. Then a voice, faint and familiar. "Becca, you think you can run?" Her hands tightened on the wheel. This was impossible. That voice had been silenced years ago. She increased her pace, hoping speed would free her from memories clawing back to life. Twists and turns, the road only got darker. Her headlights flickered over a sign she couldn't recognize. Where was she heading? It was as if the path had taken a life of its own. Bruno whimpered, nudging closer to her side. "It's okay, boy, we're just... on an adventure." One more corner and the clock on the dashboard blinked eerily: 3:33 AM. Rebecca took a sharp breath. She glanced into the rearview, spotting someone seated in the backseat for a fraction of a second—an old friend long gone. "Help me, Becca," the apparition whispered before vanishing into thin air. No. She couldn't derail now. She had a destination—she didn't know where, but it was somewhere. Minutes blended into hours as she drove, the tension suffocating. That is until another bump jolted her awake from whatever twisted reality her mind had veered into. Right there, standing in the middle of the road, was someone—a tall figure with unkind eyes—staring right at her. Rebecca slammed the brakes just in time as chills raced down her spine. This stranger held a note and placed it on the windshield, locking eyes with Bruno, and disappeared into the abyss. Trembling hands unfolded the paper: "You're going to be okay," it said. Suddenly, everything felt lighter. Like a storm passing after endless rain. The empty road wasn't as menacing—something had shifted. She turned, finally recognizing a path that led home. In the morning's light, Rebecca realized driving had done more than clear her mind. It unburdened her heart. She parked beside her cabin, her journey ending with hope, however small. Bruno nudged her cheek, the past now the past, unable to touch them again. That evening spun secrets into threads, weaving them into tales of shadows darting away with the dawn.