"The Phantom Hitchhiker" (AP story prompt)

     Michael turned his head to look at the girl to his right. She is much too young to be alone out in the cold night, he thought, and especially without a sweater. She looks about fourteen years old. It would have been wrong to just leave her to walk, and he hoped her parents would understand that he had no ill intentions with her. "Take me home, please," she had asked when he pulled over to ask her if she needed a ride. "I have to go home." Now, he was about to ask her for her name when she cut him off and said again, "I have to go home. Take me home, please. I have to go home."
     "Are you feeling alright?" he asked. "Are you...feverish or anything? You look awfully pale."
     "Take me home," she repeated. Her matted hair obscured her face and she wouldn't turn to look at him. She hadn't looked at him once this whole time. "I have to go home."
     "It's alright, I'm taking you home. I promise. What's your name?" He turned to look at her again as the car pulled out of the tunnel - the moonlight spilled in and illuminated an empty seat to his right.
     He slammed on the brakes, pulled over to the side of the road, and crashed into a tree that was hidden by the dense fog. His forehead smashed against the steering wheel and everything went black.

     By the time he regained consciousness, the stagnant air was making him sweat although he was cold. He felt a chill creeping into his bones. The right side of the windshield had been pierced by a branch and shattered everywhere. He leaned toward the opening and shouted, "Hello? Can anyone hear me? Is anyone here?" But his cries fell flat, without even an echo.
     He sighed, reached over to fumble with the seatbelt, and yelled in pain as he finally felt the shards of glass stuck in his right arm and shoulder from the windshield. As he struggled to regain his breath he heard someone approaching.
     "...car accident, yes, by Mersey Tunnel. On the side by the cemetery. ... Just a few minutes ago! I heard it from my house." It was an elderly woman, talking on a cell phone - probably to the police. She went slowly down the hill, crunching every stick and leaf as she did so. "I haven't reached the car yet, hang on a moment." Her face peered into the passenger side window. "Only one man. Hey! Can you hear me?" He suddenly realized she was talking to him and he nodded. "Alright, what's your name?"
     "Michael," he said. "Michael O'Fallon. Can you help me out of here?"
     "Yes, thank you. I'll stay here. Thanks again. Goodnight." She snapped her phone shut and stuck it in the pocket of her nightgown. "Are you hurt?" she asked as she opened the door.
     Michael gestured to his right side. "There's a lot of glass still in me and I can't get the seatbelt off myself. Hurts too much."
     She bent over and began working at the seatbelt. "How'd you end up like this anyways?"
     "Before I tell you that, I have to ask: did you seen a girl around here, by any chance?" He bit his lip, not wanting to say more until she got him out of the car. He doubted she would help him anymore if she thought he was crazy.
     "A girl? Was your daughter in here with you? Here, put your left arm around me and I'll help pull you up, but you'll have to use your legs if you can. I'm just not that young anymore." She laughed a bit at her own joke. "But no, I haven't seen anyone but you."
     He winced as she helped lift him out and immediately put all his weight on his left side as soon as his foot touched the ground. "Well, it's a bit of a...strange story. I doubt you'll believe me."
     "It's been ages since I've heard a tall tale. I'd love to hear all about it, but how about let's get you sitting down first. We have a while until the police come, there's no rush." Together they hobbled over to the bench next to the cemetery gates. "Let me guess, your lady left you and you got in a few drinks and decided to go have some fun somewhere?"
     He smiled. "I wish. No, I was just coming home from work and I saw a little girl walking on the side of the road, a little ways away from the other side of the tunnel. She looked so cold and tired, so I pulled over and asked her if she needed a ride. She told me her address in Birkenhead and said, 'Take me home. Please. I have to go home.' She got in the car, I gave her a sweater, and we were on our way, but... I don't know how it happened, but as soon as I came out of the tunnel she was just...gone. I panicked and tried to pull over to look for her, but I pulled straight into a tree that I didn't see through all the fog." He shook his head. "I know it doesn't sound real but-"
     "Oh, I know it's real," the old woman said gravely. "She might be a ghost, haunting that tunnel. There's a lot down here since we're so close to the cemetery." She stopped and cupped a hand to her ear. "Can't tell if those are wolves howling or police sirens coming."
     "They're sirens," he replied. "What should I tell them? The same thing I told you?"
     The police cars pulled in and Michael quickly shut his eyes against the blinding lights. His head already felt like it was exploding. "You stay here for now, I'll talk to them first. They can come over here to talk to you. They'll understand," she said as the officers began chattering amongst themselves.
     "Man, I can't believe we got a fake from an old lady, and especially so soon after the last one. That's just cruel."
     "Who brought the scene camera?"
     "Why? There ain't nothin' here!"
     "We can't just come back with nothing, they'll think we skipped out on it! They're never gonna believe this unless they see a picture."
     "Hey, you're wrong. There's something over here."
     "What? What is it?"
     There was a rustle as one of them picked something out of the shrubbery. "A sweater. Nice, looks about my size."
     "Are you gross enough to take it?"
     "Dylan is short for disgusting," another one quipped, and they burst into laughter. The sound of car doors slamming was heard, then engines revving, and then total silence.
     Michael opened his eyes to see his car still smashed on the tree, and there were no policemen or cars anywhere near it. "What just happened? Why didn't you go talk to them? Did they not see the car?" He expected some kind of response from the old lady but there wasn't one. A breeze finally broke the stagnant air and the heavy clouds above him, letting the moonlight shine through once more so he could see more clearly. He turned to look at her and the moon illuminated the empty seat to his right -
     Michael jumped up, ignoring the burning pain in his side. He desperately hoped she was just across the road by the car and he hadn't seen her yet; just as he began to sprint away to find her he heard an anguished wail from behind him. He whirled around, tripped over his own feet, fell on his right side, and let out an agonizing shriek. His vision swam with tears and he kept biting his bleeding lips to keep from swearing. He sat himself up just in time to see the old woman trudge away from one grave, weeping, and stand over another freshly dug one for a moment before sinking down into the dirt. His heart was pounding away in his chest but threatening to jump out of his throat. It couldn't have been real - he must be delirious from the pain, he thought, all the pain and the stress of all of this and he hadn't eaten all day. He carefully laid down on his left side and tried to breathe steadily to keep from passing out. He closed his eyes, counted to ten, and opened them again. His vision was clearer now. He began to calm down until he noticed the headstone closest to him, just on the other side of the gate and another fresh grave. It read:
     MICHAEL JAY O'FALLON. 1973 - 2004.
     He stood up and sobbed in pain and disbelief the whole walk there. He stared at the headstone for a moment, half in shock and half in longing, until the dirt finally swallowed him.
     Another breeze slowly pushed out the fog and broke up the clouds. The moon shone down on the desolate hillside of Mersey Tunnel and Mersey Cemetery.

attacked by bees and anxiety

     She’s beautiful.
     That’s what I remember thinking the first time I ever saw her. Back then, all I could really see were discolored blobs - she could’ve been a tree for all I knew - but I saw her. I didn’t know right then what that meant, and I wasn’t really sure how I felt about it, but it also didn’t matter. I was being attacked by a swarm of possessed bees.

     “GET DOWN!” Salem screamed. He slammed his arm into my head and knocked me down and out of the way of another wave.
     I tried to stand up and failed. “Out of all…the goddamned things…” I clutched at my pounding head and he danced around a cluster of them.
    “Where’s our backup?” he yelled over to me.
     “Backup?” I almost cackled. “You dragged me out here for a hike in the woods after everyone told you not to go! This is a swarm of bees, you want a fucking wave of reinforcements?”
     “I’m allergic!” he screeched.
     Then I heard it. It was a very soft, sing-song giggle. To this day I still don’t know how I heard it over all of his panicked bleeting and the roar of hundreds of bees.
     She stepped out of the treeline with such grace, she might not have even been touching the ground, but instead hovering just above it. Not a leaf rustled under her gentle feet, and not one clung to her flowing white robes. She knelt in a patch of sunshine, whispered to the forest floor, and then whispered to the sun. Her outstretched arms drew the sun to her golden hair. She smiled. And just like that, every last bee was gone.
     Salem froze in the midst of his prancing. “Wh-what just happened? What did you do?”
     “Listen, I can’t take you seriously until you stand like a normal human being,” I said, referencing his ridiculous pose.
     “But I’m not a human being.” He rolled his eyes at me. Presently he stood on one leg, teetering to the side with one arm to protect his face, and the other waving around at bees that weren’t there.
     “Mhm. Well anyways, I didn’t do anything.”
     “Well…where did they go?” Now he waved his arms around for balance because he leaned too far to one side.
     “Hell if I know.” I shrugged. “You really think I did something? You nearly knocked me unconscious! I couldn’t have done shit!”
     “Well, excuse me for trying to be a noble friend,” he said as he nearly fell onto his face.
     “Thank you, noble friend, for injuring me more than the bees did or could have.” He decked me in the shoulder and I couldn’t help but laugh. I stole a glance at the treeline again to see if she was still there; my heart dropped into my stomach when I saw only trees. I didn’t know what I was expecting to see when I looked over - I already knew she was gone. I felt her leave.
     “What’d you bring me out here for anyways?” I asked.
     He hesitated. “…well, you see…”
     “Yeah, I can kind of see, and I can see well enough to know you’re avoiding eye contact, which means you’re scared I’m going to hurt you for whatever you’re about to say.” I shook my head. “Come on, out with it. I got attacked by demonic bees for this.”
     He took a deep breath. “I brought you out here because…”
     There was a long silence. “Because?”
     “I brought you out here because…” His pitch went up an octave. “…I…just wanted to see if you would come.” He looked down at the ground.
     “A-are you serious?”
     He gave me a sheepish grin. "Yeah, I’m surprised you came. You used to not even look at me across the breakfast table. But now here we are, a couple of good buddies, just taking a walk in the woods, having a good time, getting attacked by bees…”
     “Isn’t this fun.” I rolled my eyes.
     “Oh don’t give me that deadpan shit. Admit it, you were having fun, even during the bees.” He smirked.
     “Okay, okay. It was alright up until the bees,” I shrugged.
     “HA!” He laughed, pointing a finger at me. “Knew it!” Now he was close enough to my face for me to get a good look at him. His green eyes were alight with laughter and youth, and his cheeks had prominent smile lines. “Admit it already - you have feelings! You like people sometimes!” He narrowed his eyes at me. “Unless you’re still emo.”
     “Uh, excuse you, I left that behind in 2007.”
     “That was last year! Which was three days ago!”
     I smirked. “Still last year.” And then I really smiled at the thought of having a life like this - a good friend and clear skies and a home to go back to.

     Six years later, I sat in those woods, thinking about him and the day he brought me out there. I thought about the long, hard, battle-filled winters and sweaty training summers, and how unfair it was that, after all of that, he didn’t make it. His own child would never know what he looked like.
But why? Why would I miss someone who endangered all of us, our entire society, for reasons he wouldn’t even tell to Estell, the love of his life? He was weak, that bastard, and he let the demons get to him. …right?
     None of us really knew. Of course Reva knew, but would she ever tell any of us? Hell no. So we were all left to grope in the dark, all of us starting rumors and privately speculating, never really knowing. We were never going to know.
     Why? Why? Why why why why - 
     My brain stopped working. There is no other way to describe it. My ears rang and I collapsed to the ground, clutching my head and not breathing. Why? 
     “It is because one misses Salem.” A delicate hand touched my shoulder.
     I would’ve said hello, but instead I almost screamed because I was already panicking. A high-pitched “H-hhhlllnohhh…” was what came out.
     “Name of mine, Lothiriel,” she said. “One needs help to calm?”
     I nodded vigorously.
     She sang something in Elvin I didn’t understand with my limited fluency, plucked a strand of hair from her head, broke it in half with her fingernail, then smiled and kissed my forehead.
     Calmness washed over me. I gasped for air like a fish. “Wh-who…”
     “As said, is Lothiriel. You?”
     “My name…my…” I realized I hated my name. “I…” “Void” suddenly felt like someone else. It felt like that person who closed himself off from everything and everyone, shut down his emotions so he would stop being hurt.
     “Time, there is lots.” She nodded, sensing my hesitation.
     “Thank you,” I said. I realized briefly Reva might be pissed about my name change since she’d have to edit the records, but I didn't care. “Why are you helping me?”
     “Chance,” she said. “Cevenaur comes much at here, to see.”
     “To see?”
     “Danger.” Her eyes grew wide. “Much danger, here.” She leaned in close and whispered, “Cevenaur is danger also.”
     “Oh,” I said. “Do you need to hide from him?”
     “Hide?” She shook her head. “Leave. Always.”
     I took a deep breath. “Okay. Come back with me, to where I live.”
     “How far?”
     "Not that far," I replied. "It's the shabby castle in the distance. I will have to ask if you can stay, though. That's not my decision."
     Lothiriel nodded and stood up with me. "Thank you, Miluion."
     She named me? What does it mean? I wondered as I walked back with her. Whatever it meant, I liked it.

     I pushed open the giant doors. Their creaking echoed through the whole palace, alerting everyone of my arrival. Immediately, Reva came sprinting down the staircase, the wooden soles on her boots clacking angrily against the cold stone. "Where the hell have you been?" She was practically hissing, patches of fur already standing from her human skin, but she began to calm when she saw our visitor. "And who is this?"
     "Name of mine, Lothiriel," she said again as she bowed respectfully. "Miluion I found, in the forest, in the danger, the spirit danger and Cevenaur danger."
     Reva raised her eyebrows at my new name, but nodded. "Thank you for bringing him back. I am grateful for that. Who is Cevenaur? Is that alright for me to know?"
     "Cevenaur leads, watches over the spirit danger, but the spirits hurt him now." Lothiriel sighed. "Much regret, I am for poor speaking."
     "It's alright, I understand." Reva smiled a bit. "Our residents aren't very fluent in Elvin, but they are learning slowly. In time, you can master many languages, if you wish. So, your leader, Cevenaur, is being affected by the demons in the area?"
     Lothiriel nodded. "Yes. He is much, much danger. No more staying are safe."
     "Do you need shelter here?"
     "Yes, if it can. Is danger here, too?" She looked around warily.
     "No, no - though I suppose you can sense there was once an evil presence here. It is gone. It has been for a while. We keep up on cleansing rituals, just in case." Reva rolled her eyes at me, sensing my emotional twinge at the thought of Salem. "You can stay for as long as you need. I will show you to your room. Void, in my office, immediately," she called over her shoulder as they began walking back up the stairs.

     Every single door in this damn place was heavy, ridiculously huge, and made of solid oak. Just walking around for everyday activities was exhausting. I took a glance around the room to see that Celestine was there, browsing the ancient texts that spilled off the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. They took a glance over their shoulder at me as I shut the door. "Hey. What're you in for?" they asked halfheartedly.
     "I took a walk and brought back an Elvin refugee. What about you?" I asked as I plopped down on the stone bench in front of Reva's cluttered desk.
     "I spilled a bunch of the paint that Zephyr made all over the kitchen, right after Estell got done sweeping the floors." They sighed, but it came out more like a grunt. "I just want to try splatterpaint!" A golden feather poked out of their hair.
     Reva burst in, her long brown hair swishing dramatically in the wind the door created. "What were you doing out there?" she snapped at me.
     I hesitated, not sure if I wanted Celestine to hear this or not. "Well..."
     "Celestine, please step into the next room for a moment," she muttered. They nodded and disappeared into the bookshelves. "What were you doing?" she asked again, clipping her words in anger.
     "I just needed some time to think," I said. "It hasn't been easy, you know, and it certainly doesn't make it easier when you won't tell any of us what the fuck happened!"
     She growled and slammed her hands down on her desk. "You think it's easy keeping it from you? Do you think it's fun to hide the truth, especially with a mind-reader around? Do you think I do this for kicks? No! I have a responsibility as a leader to keep you all safe, and sometimes that means you can't know everything."
     "Do you think it's fun being kept in the dark?" I began to stare her down. "Do you think it's all fun and games to have panic attacks, wake up screaming and sweating from recurring nightmares, want to die because you can't help but think it's your fault, watch everyone avoid saying his name like the thought of him is a curse? Do you have any fucking clue what any of us are going through? Or do you just not give a shit?" I clenched my teeth and fists, trying not to yell as I continued: "His own daughter doesn't know who he is, Estell doesn't know what happened to him, and you're over here acting like keeping everything from us will keep us safe, will keep him out of our minds and keep the place 'clean'. It doesn't work like that, damnit!" I paused to take a deep breath. "There has to be some closure, some kind of resolution, because if not, then everyone living here is going to hate you. Can't you feel the resentment building? Everyone is so damn tense all the time and it's because they're walking on eggshells, trying not to upset you or each other. You pulled me in here for taking a damn walk when I'm a grown-ass man, fully skilled in self-defense. Celestine was in here because they spilled paint! What is wrong with you, Reva? What is going on? The more you don't tell us, the worse everything gets. I guess you somehow haven't figured that out by now."
     She looked like she was about to quit holding herself together and tear me to shreds. "How dare you speak to me like that?" she said, her voice scarily low and calm.
     "It's about time someone said it, in my opinion. So are you going to talk about what happened or not? Because the truth is eating you alive, and the lies aren't helping us out either." I glared at her.
     She bit her lip so hard it bled a bit. "Get out. I can't look at you, I can't deal with you right now," she said softly, turning away and looking down. "Go up to the observatory. Don't talk to anyone."
I stomped out of her office, making sure the door slammed on the way out.

     The observatory was the desolate balcony at the very top of the north tower. There wasn't a clear definition of flights of stairs since it was all one winding staircase, so I'll just say it was a very, very long way up. No one used that place anymore because it was so out of the way, and the wind blew so hard you had to grab onto the unstable railing to make sure you didn't fly away. I thought she was giving me a time-out until I walked through the entrance room.
     There were symbols drawn everywhere on the walls in various substances - chalk, paint, rock dust, raw berry juice...some looked like blood. Clean bones of small animals were scattered everywhere. A massive, ominous-looking book sat on a table full of various altars. Underneath the table was a messy stack of old notebooks. A pile of sheets were crammed into a corner; they looked like they'd been slept on many times and never moved. The whole room radiated a negative energy that cut off my breath and made me feel panicked.
     "This is what he'd been doing." Reva had made it up the stairs behind me without making a sound. "He prayed to the Moon one time and asked for help, and then this started." She sighed as she looked around the room. "We never gave him a cleansing ritual. Remember that?" I nodded. "It turns out he had tons of scars from violent physical abuse that he'd endured since childhood. During the Moon ritual, he only would've had to cut his wrist, and then his body was all for the demons. The negative energy trapped in those scars must've been astounding. It's no wonder they were able to keep such a strong hold on him with such an incredible energy source."
     "So he...he was...possessed?" I felt dizzy. "For h-how long?"
     "At least a year," she said. "Maybe even five or six. I'm not sure. He kept journals when he could regain control, but it's not like he had any way to tell the date, so they're all foggy and mostly illegible." She picked up the notebook on top of the pile and held it out to me.
     I took it hesitantly. I steadied my breathing before flipping through to find its last entry. In large and messy scrawls, it read:
     "i dont know whats happening anymore im so scared and confused estell i don't understand why i keep hurting you i don't understand what i did please help me please i don't remember anything i dont remember my mothers name why does void hate me where did haku go what did i do what have i been doing what is wrong with your stomach i don't understand i don't understand anything anymore i don't want to be like this i feel like i'm going to die i feel so helpless and overwhelmed please please please help me what year is it im so lost im losing again im losing im l"
     My dizziness came back, this time with tears welling behind my eyes. "So he...he just..." I couldn't finish my sentence. Until now, we had all thought that Salem had been a rebel, a simple spy for the other side, then regretted his choices and offed himself. But that didn't really make any sense - not with the Salem we knew, the real one.
     I turned around to thank her, but she was already gone. I don't know what I expected. I felt her leave.