A taxi driver picked up a quiet woman dressed in white near an old cemetery just after midnight. She gave him an address on the edge of town and barely spoke during the ride.
When they arrived, the house was dark.
The driver turned around to ask for payment — but the back seat was empty.
Shaken, he knocked on the door anyway.
An elderly man answered. When the driver described the woman, the man went pale.
“She was my daughter,” he whispered. “She died ten years ago tonight.”
Then he pointed at a framed photo beside the doorway.
It was her.
The driver noticed something else that made his blood run cold:
The back seat of his taxi was still wet from rain… even though the woman had never opened the door.
