A Ghostly Ride Request
A Vanishing Hitchhiker Tale
Inspired by the ghost story of the Vanishing Hitchhiker Laura Starr Latta
Written By: Lance J. Gosnell
The mist of that ominous October night seemed to weave a shroud from the very fabric of shadows and hidden truths, cocooning the world in an enigmatic embrace. Within this impenetrable cloak, Sarah found herself, an unwitting ride-share driver, facing an eerie ride request that would irrevocably bind her fate to the spectral whispers of a forgotten era.
The coordinates on her app, revealing a remote location, appeared like a cryptic summons, promising alluring riches despite the unsettling chill that accompanied them. Resolute in the face of trepidation, Sarah embarked on her journey, the serpentine roads guiding her deeper into the velvety abyss of night.
Amidst her drive, she brushed past a cemetery’s gate, her heart racing as she narrowly avoided colliding with a woman draped in a ghostly white wedding gown, standing hauntingly in the road’s center. The fleeting image left her breathless, yet as she glanced back into the rearview mirror, the road lay empty, devoid of life. Shaking off the eerie sensation, Sarah pressed onward, her curiosity refusing to yield to fear’s grip.
Finally arriving at her destination, a decrepit mansion emerged from the obscurity, its ancient façade illuminated by the eerie glow of the moonlight. A lone figure awaited her on the porch, draped in antiquated attire, their features obscured beneath the brim of a hat. Suppressing her rising unease, Sarah steeled herself, focusing on the promise of reward that lay just beyond the threshold.
With wordless gestures, the enigmatic figure entered her vehicle, directing her along a path unknown. The journey unfurled in heavy silence, the wind’s whispers and rustling leaves only intensifying the palpable tension. As their expedition reached its cryptic conclusion, Sarah turned to find an empty seat beside her, the passenger vanished like a phantom’s whisper.
A wave of tremors coursed through her, her senses ensnared by the grip of fear as she gazed at the void beside her. Fueled by a relentless curiosity, she succumbed to the mansion’s pull, her steps echoing through its dimly illuminated corridors as if guided by a haunting melody.
In a chamber bathed in muted light, adorned with portraits bearing the weight of forgotten time, one painting seized her gaze – an exact replica of her enigmatic passenger. A chill, as cold as death’s breath, slid down her spine as a whispering breeze brushed past, and she turned to find the passenger once again before her. Their visage was pallid, their eyes vacant, and a malicious grin played upon their lips.
“I’ve been awaiting your arrival,” their voice murmured, the words carrying an eerie resonance that seeped into her very soul. Panic surged within her as Sarah stumbled backward, the frantic cadence of her heart matching the tempo of her racing thoughts. Her attempt at escape only led to the mansion’s distortion, ensnaring her within its mysterious clutches.
As the night unfolded its secrets, Sarah’s sanity teetered on the edge, the mansion’s walls unfurling visions of a tormented past – a saga woven with threads of betrayal, vengeance, and the lament of a tragic spirit’s curse. The passenger’s tale engulfed her senses in a macabre dance, the very fabric of reality and illusion entwining like serpents.
Days turned into a relentless continuum, Sarah’s mind a tempest of uncertainty, her presence fading like a whisper in the wind. The mansion stood empty when the proprietor finally ventured in, portraits mute and the air heavy with silence once more. Sarah had become an ephemeral echo of the mansion’s chilling narrative, her destiny forever enmeshed with the specter of the vanishing passenger.
Local lore weaved a haunting tapestry, suggesting that on that fateful day, Sarah’s destiny merged with that of Laura Starr Latta’s. For Sarah did not merely traverse the highway that night; she inadvertently invited the spirit of Laura to cross over, leaving Laura as nothing more than a harbinger of impending doom.
The keeper of the cemetery, his voice quivering with age, still recounts tales of Laura’s ethereal form manifesting on the roadsides, her presence an eerie harbinger. Chilling accounts of sightings near open graves unfurl over his decades, each story a spectral thread woven into the tapestry of the town’s history.
The legend’s allure remains unwavering, capturing the imagination of the town’s youth to such an extent that Laura’s tombstone has repeatedly vanished, only to reappear in fragmented pieces, a testament to the haunting’s unyielding grip. Upon its inscription reads:
“Gentle stranger passing by,
As you are now, once was I.
As I am now, so you must be,
Prepare yourself to follow me.”
Lance J. Gosnell 