The Last Stop. #3 : It Was Supposed to Be a Nightmare.

When he opened his eyes again, the smell of disinfectant stung his nose.

The beeping of a heart monitor ticked steadily: beep, beep, beep.

His whole body throbbed with pain.

This is… a hospital…

He tried to sit up, but a wave of agony crashed over him.
He glanced down. His body was covered in casts and bandages.
He couldn’t do anything except stare at the ceiling, eyes rolling weakly from side to side.

A nurse hurried over with a bright smile.
“It’s a miracle. The patient’s awake!”

Prem stayed silent, his mind slowly processing everything.

The nurse stepped out for a moment, then his father, mother, little sister, and grandpa all rushed into the room. His mother burst into tears, overjoyed that Prem had woken up.

Once Prem was a bit more fully conscious, everyone began telling him what had happened.

“You were asleep for ten whole days. I thought you’d never wake up,” his mother said. Her voice was thick with tears, but overflowing with relief.

It was obvious he’d been in some kind of serious accident.
His little sister was crying so loudly that his father finally had to carry her outside so she wouldn’t disturb the other patients.

Prem slowly turned his head to the side and saw there were four other patients lying in beds in his row. At the foot of his bed was another patient, breathing weakly.

“W-what happened?” he rasped. His throat felt unbearably dry.

His mother quickly picked up a stainless steel cup with a straw and held it to his lips so he could take a sip.

“Don’t you remember? The bus you were on crashed into a long-distance coach. It caught fire and burned up. When the rescue team called me, I thought I’d lost you,” his mother said, wiping her tears with the hem of her shirt.

“The rescue workers said you were really lucky,” Grandpa added. “The impact of the collision threw you right out of the bus and all the way into a big Bodhi tree in the middle of a field—two hundred meters away, they said. But some of the branches pierced through your body. Your leg bones cracked, your ribs were broken, and your head hit hard. You’re going to have to stay here in the hospital for several more days at least.”

“You were unconscious the whole time, but you kept making noises in your throat, like you were moaning. You must have been having a terrible nightmare. But it’s all over now. You made it through. From now on, only good things will come,” his mother said.

So it was a nightmare, he thought.
He must have had that horrible nightmare while he was unconscious.

Yet the feeling of bone-deep terror still lingered inside him.

But what had he actually dreamed?

Prem closed his eyes and tried to focus on the dark thing lodged in his memory.

The image of that old wooden house floated into his mind again, along with the terrifying old woman.

The black shadow seemed to seep back into his memory, bit by bit.

He remembered the scorching heat of the road cutting through the fields.
The musty smell of dry grass that had clung to his nose the whole time.
The exhaustion of running from something unspeakably frightening.

It all felt like it had really happened.

The events poured back into his mind along with a flood of questions.

“I think I had a nightmare. It was… unbelievably scary,” Prem whispered. His face looked anxious and drained.

“But at least it was just a dream,” he added.

It sounded like a simple statement, but he was really trying to convince himself—to comfort himself.

Grandpa took Prem’s hand and tried to soothe him.

“It’s all over now, my boy. You’ve taken your hit of bad luck. No more misfortune.”

Prem gave Grandpa a faint smile.

“When I get out of the hospital, I want to stay at your place for a while,” he said.

“Of course. Stay as long as you like,” Grandpa replied.

As Prem’s mind began to calm, a sudden thought struck him.

On his left arm, he noticed bruises in a striped pattern—as if someone had gripped him very tightly. When he raised his arm to look closer, he saw four marks like claw scratches embedded in the skin.

The image of the old woman laughing and clutching his arm flashed into his mind.

“Probably scratches from tree branches,” his mother said.

Prem lifted his eyes to her.

“You were covered in little cuts and scrapes from branches. Most of them have already healed. But that bruise on your arm… it’s strange. It might take a while before it fades,” his father said, coming back into the room with his little sister slung over his shoulder.

Prem glanced around the bright ward. Nurses bustled back and forth. Doctors checked on other patients.

He clenched his teeth and told himself,
Whatever it was—it’s over now. Just forget it.

He repeated it to himself again and again.

After about half a month of treatment, the hospital finally discharged him.
His parents and little sister went back to Bangkok, while he got exactly what he’d wanted: time to recuperate at Grandpa’s house.

The countryside was still the countryside—almost exactly as he remembered.

The lush green rice fields where he’d rampaged as a child, causing grief for farmers all over the area.
The clear stream where he and his friends used to play.

He was too grown-up now to fool around like that.
Most of his old friends had left the village anyway. The ones who remained had families of their own and couldn’t waste time on silly games like before.

Only Pae remained.
Pae, who had chosen to live his life as a farmer until the day he died.

Prem agreed with his decision. Sooner or later, there would be a shortage of farmers. Pae would become a crucial part of keeping Thailand supplied with rice, no doubt.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Prem lay in a rope hammock tied between a wooden post and a tamarind tree at the edge of the fields.

For him, right now, this was heaven—just lying there in that atmosphere with nothing to do.

He spent his free time reading and thinking about what to do next with his life.
Should he go back to his studies?
Or strike out in some new, exciting direction?

He had a hundred ideas about the kind of awesome life he wanted to build.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three months passed.

Prem sat on the back of Pae’s old motorcycle as they puttered toward the bus stop.
It was time for him to return to Bangkok.

Even though he didn’t feel quite ready to leave this peaceful life, he decided he had to. If he stayed any longer, he was sure he’d turn into a complete slacker.

At the old bus shelter, there were seven or eight people squeezed together on the bench. It looked like they were all headed in the same direction: into the provincial town.

Prem and Pae stood talking beside the shelter. Pae leaned against his motorcycle, and the two friends chatted until the bus finally arrived.

Pae started up his beloved bike, turned, and waved goodbye to Prem before riding off.

The passengers surged forward, crowding onto the bus. Prem felt a twinge of fear about getting on a bus again, but seeing so many people made him feel a little more at ease. He followed the crowd onto the bus.

He dropped into a seat by the window.
He liked watching the scenery roll by.

Lush green fields stretched out under the open sky.
In weather this nice, he promised himself he’d find a chance to come back again soon.

Grandpa’s house was a long way from the provincial town. The bus ride took almost three hours. But once he arrived, it was always worth it.

Prem watched the passing fields for a while… and eventually drifted off to sleep.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rrrrk, rrrrk, rrrrk!!!

The engine coughed and rattled as it slowly shut off.

“End of the line, folks!” the conductor shouted loudly, his voice echoing through the bus.

People stood up in a noisy rush, jostling to get off.

“We’re here already?” Prem murmured groggily as he woke.

He still had a long way to go—after this he’d have to take a long-distance coach from the provincial town back to Bangkok, which would take several more hours.

The thought alone was tiresome.

He stretched, then stepped off the bus…

And froze in confusion.

Because wherever this bus had stopped, it was definitely not a terminal.

He looked around.

On both sides of the road were dried-up fields of grass.
His breathing started to go shallow and shaky.

This was a landscape he knew all too well—one he would never forget.

The desolate fields bathed in the orange light of the setting sun.

Yes.
The very same wasteland where he’d experienced that unspeakable terror.

“No way… No way!!!”

Prem screamed aloud.

He spun around and bolted back toward the bus—but as if to mock him, the driver pulled away at once.

The bus roared off.
Prem ran after it, shouting for them to stop, but it just grew smaller and smaller, ignoring him completely.

Soon, it vanished from sight.

He turned back toward the bus stop.

Where had all the other passengers gone?
The people who’d gotten off just now—where were they?

Had he been the only one to step off the bus in the first place?

“What the hell is going on!?” he thought, mind spinning.
“If this is a dream, then please—let me wake up!”

A cold wind whistled past him. Something fluttered along with it and bumped against his body. He reached out and caught it.

It was an old plastic water bottle.

He stared at it, frowning. The bottle was caked in red dust. On its side was a bear sticker, so sun-bleached it had nearly lost its color.

His heart hammered wildly.

Wasn’t this the same bottle he’d thrown away?

“GREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIIIIIDDDDDDDDDD!!!!”

A chilling scream tore through the air.

Prem nearly jumped out of his skin. He whipped his head around toward the sound.

The wind howled through the barren rice fields, whipping past him over and over. Sweat dripped from his chin onto the hot asphalt and evaporated almost instantly.

His grip on the water bottle tightened until the plastic twisted out of shape in his hand.

“Shit…”

The curse rang through his mind.

His eyes locked on the field in front of him—where, out of nowhere, an old wooden house had appeared.

He had no idea when it had manifested there.

Was he really about to face that unimaginable horror again?

And this time… how was he supposed to survive it?

“It was supposed to be just a nightmare!”

—----------------------------The End—------------------------

 The Last Stop. #1
 The Last Stop. #2