Short story
2 min
You Were Always Here
Jassim Malik
"Okay, I got it. Just stop calling me-I'm driving."
"Bye."
Draven missed his turn. The highway stretched endlessly into darkness, the moon casting eerie light on the looming trees. Shadows crept closer with each mile.
"What is this highway?" he muttered. Unease prickled his skin.
No signs. No exits. Only the hum of his engine in the silence. He grabbed his phone, tapped the map icon-
4% battery remaining.
"Ugh, what the-"He tossed the phone aside. No point panicking. He still had Robox, his car's built-in Al assistant.
"Hi, Robox."
A calm voice answered. "Hi, how can I help you?"
"Get me home."
"Opening directions."
Relieved, Draven followed the guidance. The time read 7:55 PM. He should've paid more attention to the route.
Minutes passed. The highway remained an endless void. He checked again. 8:25 PM. His jaw tightened.
"This isn't right."
Doubt gnawed at him. "Hi, Robox. How long until home?"
"Only a few minutes remaining."
A chill crawled down his spine. "Where are you taking me?"
"To your home."
His pulse pounded. This road was unfamiliar. The time now 8:43 PM. His breath hitched.
''After 8OO meters, turn right," Robox instructed.
His instincts screamed at him to stop-but what choice did he have? He turned.
Fog swallowed the road, thick and unnatural. Then-he saw it.
A mansion.
Looming in the darkness, twisted trees closing around it. No lights. No life.
"You have arrived at your destination."
Draven's stomach twisted." What... ?"His hands clenched the wheel.
"Robox, what is this place?"
"This is your home location."
His breath caught. "No, it's not! Take me
home!"
"You have reached your home location."
Draven's frustration snapped. He slammed
the dashboard. "SERIOUSLY?"
Then-movement.
His eyes flicked to the upper window. A dim light flickered.
Something was inside. Watching.
His hands trembled as he shut off the engine. The night pressed in, suffocating. Slowly, he stepped out. Cold air bit at his skin. His wrinkled white shirt clung to him.
Maybe someone's inside. Maybe they can help.
Draven stopped.
The front door creaked open.
A whisper drifted from the dark.
"Welcome home, Draven."
His blood ran cold. The voice... it was his own.
Behind him, his car screen flickered. Robox's voice, softer now, almost apologetic.
"You were always here."
The mansion's door slammed shut.
Draven stood frozen as the weight of his reality sank in. The night felt both unfamiliar and disturbingly familiar, as though he had walked this path before.
On the door behind, a tarnished brass plate
clung, flickering under the cold blue light.
Written.
Draven Lorne.
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