In 2016, a bus driver in Edo State swore he picked up a woman late at night along a lonely road. She wore white, her face hidden, and asked to be dropped at a village that no longer existed. He hesitated but agreed. The ride was silent—too silent. No movement, no breathing sound.
Halfway through, he glanced in the mirror.
She was gone.
But the door had never opened.
Shaken, he kept driving until he saw her again—sitting at the back, exactly where she was before. This time, her head slowly lifted. Her eyes were pitch black.
“Why did you stop halfway?” she whispered.
The driver panicked, lost control, and crashed into a tree. Villagers found him at dawn, alive but trembling. He kept repeating one thing:
“She’s still in the bus.”
They checked.
Every seat was empty.
Except one.
It was wet… as if someone had just been sitting there.