The Dream Car

As I slipped into a deep sleep, I was awakened by hearing leaves crunching within the forest. Curiosity spiked, and I suddenly realized I wasn’t in my bedroom anymore. My clothes were covered in mud, shoes covered in pink slimy worms, and hair damped from sweat. I held my head with my hands from a headache I had for a while now. I looked around to see that I was in a rusty, old, broken down car that looked mighty familiar from a story I heard on the news one day. Being in that old car made me feel slightly unsteady, almost as if my stomach had flipped upside down from the horrifying sight.

I grabbed the door handle and tried pushing the door open, but when the door wouldn’t budge, panic hit me like a ton of bricks. I pushed and shoved, but the door wouldn’t open. After tirelessly pushing and nudging the door, I came to the realization that I was in the car, from the news, that sank into the ocean a few years ago. The discovery hit me like a cold splash of water. “I gotta get outta here!” I exclaimed rapidly. I shoved against the rusted door, but again, it wouldn’t budge. My arms ached, and my breath came in short gasps.

I couldn’t stay here. I had to get out. It felt as if someone was watching me or following me the whole time

I glanced out the cracked windshield, the moonlight barely cutting through the thick canopy of trees. The branches swayed, casting shadows that twisted like sinister fingers across the ground. My heart pounded in my chest. How did I even get here?

The last thing I remembered was lying in bed, drifting off to sleep. Now I was trapped in a decaying car from a story that had haunted me for years. I had seen the news reports about the car that mysteriously vanished with its driver, only to wash ashore months later — empty. No one ever found the driver. No one ever figured out how the car had resurfaced.

A chill ran down my spine. What if I was trapped in some kind of nightmare?

I banged my fists on the window, hoping by some miracle it would break, but the glass only rattled. My breaths grew faster, fogging up the glass. That feeling of being watched lingered, prickling at the back of my neck. I turned my head slowly, afraid of what I might see.

Nothing. Just the dense forest stretching endlessly into the night.

I forced myself to calm down, taking deep breaths. There had to be a way out. I reached down, fumbling with the door’s rusted lock. My fingers trembled as I yanked at it, and with a loud click, the lock finally released. Relief flooded through me, but it was short-lived.

I tried the handle again, pushing with all my strength. The door groaned and creaked, but it still wouldn’t budge. I clenched my jaw, panic bubbling back to the surface. That’s when I heard it — the sound of footsteps crunching through the leaves, slow and deliberate.

My breath caught in my throat. Someone was out there. Watching.

I pressed my face against the glass, squinting into the shadows. The footsteps grew louder, circling the car. I could feel the weight of whatever was out there, lurking just beyond my sight. My heart hammered against my rib cage.

“Hello?” I called out, my voice cracking.

No answer.

My eyes darted around the car, searching for anything I could use to break the window. In the dim light, I spotted a rusted tire iron half-buried beneath the driver’s seat. I stretched my arm down, fingers brushing the cold metal. Finally, I wrapped my hand around it and pulled it free.

I raised the tire iron and smashed it against the window. The glass spider webbed, but it didn’t shatter. I hit it again, harder this time. The footsteps stopped.

I froze, my breath caught in my throat.

A soft tapping came from the passenger side window. My head snapped toward the sound, but nothing was there. Just the endless forest and the thick fog creeping through the underbrush.

“Let me out!” I shouted, slamming the tire iron against the window again. The glass finally shattered, shards raining onto the damp seats. I didn’t hesitate. I squeezed through the broken window, the jagged edges slicing into my arms. Pain flared, but I didn’t care. I was free.

I stumbled onto the forest floor, my legs shaking. The night air was thick, heavy with the scent of wet earth and decaying leaves. I glanced around, trying to get my bearings. The footsteps were gone. The only sound was the distant hoot of an owl and the rustling of leaves in the wind.

I started walking, forcing one foot in front of the other. Every step felt like something was pulling me back, like the forest itself didn’t want me to leave. My heart pounded in my chest. I needed to find a road, a clearing — anything that would get me away from this place.

After what felt like hours, I stumbled upon a narrow dirt path. Relief surged through me, but it was quickly replaced by unease. The path looked old, overgrown with weeds. Like no one had walked it in years. But it was my only option.

I followed the path, the trees closing in around me. My mind raced with questions. How did I get here? Why that car? And who — or what — had been watching me?

Suddenly, a flicker of movement caught my eye. I stopped dead in my tracks. In the distance, barely visible through the trees, was a figure. Pale. Motionless. Watching.

My heart leapt into my throat. I stumbled back, my breath catching. The figure took a step closer. I turned and ran, branches whipping against my face as I sprinted down the path. My lungs burned, but I didn’t stop.

Finally, the trees thinned, and I burst into a clearing. The moon hung low in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the grass. In the center of the clearing stood an old wooden sign, weathered and splintered.

I crept closer, my eyes scanning the faded letters carved into the wood.

“Welcome to Black Hollow.”

A wave of nausea washed over me. I knew that name. Everyone knew that name. Black Hollow — the town that vanished without a trace decades ago.

My knees buckled, and I collapsed onto the damp ground. This wasn’t just a nightmare.

I was somewhere I was never meant to be.