02 Oct The Passenger
“The Passenger”
Written by Craig Groshek Edited by Craig Groshek Thumbnail Art by Craig Groshek Narrated by N/ACopyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on CreepypastaStories.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed, adapted to film, television or audio mediums, republished in a print or electronic book, reposted on any other website, blog, or online platform, or otherwise monetized without the express written consent of its author(s).
🎧 Available Audio Adaptations: None Available
⏰ ESTIMATED READING TIME — 2 minutes
I’ve been driving for a rideshare company for almost a year. Nights are usually quiet—college kids, bar hoppers, the occasional business traveler—nothing out of the ordinary.
But last Friday, I got a request around midnight. The pin dropped on a stretch of road just outside of town. No houses. No businesses. Just fields and an old cemetery on the hill.
When I pulled up, he was already there. A man in a long, dark coat. He opened the door and slid into the back seat without a word. His collar was turned up, his face swallowed by shadow. In the rearview mirror, I could barely make out more than the faint shape of him. Still, something about him seemed awfully familiar. I shrugged it off.
“Take me to Greenwood Cemetery,” he said. His voice was flat.
The ride was silent. Every time I glanced in the mirror, his features blurred into darkness, like the streetlights couldn’t touch him. Just the outline of a pale cheek, a glint of an eye. Enough to know someone was there, but never enough to see him clearly.
When we reached the cemetery gates, I stopped. The meter ticked. I turned to tell him we’d arrived.
The back seat was empty.
I never heard the door open, or any footsteps. He was just… gone.
On the seat lay a folded piece of paper. I opened it.
The photograph was clear, well-lit, and unmistakable. The face I hadn’t been able to see in the mirror.
My face.
Beneath it, my own name. Date of death: tomorrow.
I’d been reading an obituary. For myself.
I looked back at the cemetery. The gates had swung open wide.
And in the darkness beyond, he was waiting—standing among the stones, his face no longer hidden.
He nodded once, and as quickly as he had appeared, he vanished.
🎧 Available Audio Adaptations: None Available
Written by Craig Groshek Edited by Craig Groshek Thumbnail Art by Craig Groshek Narrated by N/A🔔 More stories from author: Craig Groshek
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Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on CreepypastaStories.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed, adapted to film, television or audio mediums, republished in a print or electronic book, reposted on any other website, blog, or online platform, or otherwise monetized without the express written consent of its author(s).