Reborn as a Prophet in a Horror Movie

#100Reader Mode

#100

Johan ran a gloved hand across his forehead, wiping away the sweat. The old leather work gloves from Christina’s toolbox were a perfect fit. He eyed the cleared road with a satisfied nod.

That fallen tree had been a pain, but he’d finally managed to wrestle it aside. He leaned against his bright yellow VW Bug, a splash of color against the lush green of the forest, and took a long pull from his water bottle. The cool breeze felt good against his damp skin.

His rolled-up sleeves revealed strong, chiseled forearms, flexing as he shifted his weight. Not that Johan was one to show off. He preferred to fly under the radar. Today was no different. Faded jeans, well-worn sneakers, and a plain white t-shirt. Just a regular guy, taking life one day at a time.

But the usual sparkle in his ocean-blue eyes was gone, replaced by a shadow of sadness. A sigh escaped his full, ruddy lips, heavy with unspoken longing.

“Haa…”

Truth was, Johan was feeling pretty down. He couldn’t shake the feeling of what could have been. The missed opportunity at the Decoy Motel, the serendipitous reunion with Seojun—it all made his thick pectoral muscles ache. That arrogant, self-proclaimed devil had been so smug, and now look where things landed. Even the excitement of encountering an invisible man was starting to feel overshadowed by doubt.

Had there even been an invisible man in the first place?

Johan mentally facepalmed. Without any photos, he had absolutely zero proof. His already shaky confidence, rattled by recent events, took another hit. He blamed it on the messed-up sleep schedule from all the traveling. Staring at his phone, he felt miserable, wishing things had gone differently.

He desperately wanted to call Seojun, to admit he was chasing after him. He wanted to ask if Seojun could wait for him. But a voice of reason, born from experience, stopped him from frantically dialing those numbers and begging.

“Does Jun even want to see me?”

Johan’s gaze drifted to the overcast sky, his heart heavy. Being away from home had turned him into a bit of a softie. Even with his typically sunny personality, without his friends or family around, he felt like a wilted flower, struggling against the harshness of the world.

“Is this what being in love feels like…?”

After letting himself wallow for a bit, Johan squeezed his buff body back into the driver’s seat of his bug. He tossed his gloves in the back, his calloused fingers gripping the gear shift. A quick glance in the rearview, and the little yellow beetle was chugging down the empty road, leaving the lightning-struck tree behind at the edge of the forest.

“Man, I owe you big time. If you hadn’t shown up, I might’ve been stuck out here and become bear food!”

“Haha, no problem,” Johan replied, glancing at his passenger.

Truth be told, Johan hadn’t planned on picking up the hitchhiker, who’d introduced himself as Tim. If Tim had been standing by the road, thumb out like a tired cliché, Johan would’ve kept driving. But Tim hadn’t been standing; he was sprawled in the middle of the road like roadkill.

It was broad daylight, and Johan’s Bug wasn’t exactly built for running people over. Besides, the cute little yellow thing was second-hand, and hitting someone might total it. Traveling across the U.S. without wheels would be a nightmare.

So Johan had no choice but to slam on the brakes. He was about to carefully swerve around the figure when the man, who’d been lying flat on his back like a dried-up toad, suddenly sprang up and slapped his hands on the hood.

Tim was a skinny guy, with shoulders narrow enough to slip through a mail slot and a complexion that screamed ‘haven’t seen a decent meal in days.’ But what really caught Johan’s eye was the massive goose egg on his forehead. The guy wasn’t moving, so Johan sighed and rolled down the window, forcing a smile despite his growing annoyance.

“Hey there! What’s the issue?” Johan asked, leaning out the window.

“Thank God!” The hitchhiker’s voice was a desperate whine. “You’re a lifesaver, seriously. I got so lost back there in the woods, I barely made it out alive! Haven’t eaten or had anything to drink in ages. Please, you gotta help me out! I owe you big time.”

The words spilled out in a frantic jumble, making it clear this guy wasn’t taking no for an answer. Johan wasn’t exactly thrilled about becoming a free taxi service. It wasn’t just the inconvenience; an extra passenger would seriously throw a wrench in his carefully planned schedule.

But the hitchhiker was relentless, even after Johan politely declined. He pleaded and begged, leaving Johan with two choices: run him over or give in. His pesky conscience vetoed the first option since it wasn’t socially acceptable, and a drawn-out argument just wasn’t worth the energy. Johan glanced back at the endless stretch of road behind him, realizing how far he still had to go despite the distance he’d already covered.

With a defeated sigh, Johan finally relented and unlocked the passenger door.

“Thanks, man,” Tim said, hopping in and tossing his backpack onto the floor. “Name’s Tim. Looks like we’re headed the same direction. Lucky me!”

Johan figured Tim must have a serious lack of self-preservation instincts to be the type who hitchhikes and casually jumps into a stranger’s car. Tim seemed completely oblivious to Johan’s less-than-thrilled vibe, his chatter a constant stream against Johan’s lukewarm replies.

“…research lab, totally leveled by some freak storm…”

“…blood everywhere, friends going crazy, stabbing each other… they called it the red room…”

“…Montgomery Maladali’s limited-edition sneakers…”

It was all just white noise to Johan. Pure, unfiltered gibberish. The only thing that even remotely caught his attention was a story about an invisible man. And honestly, he probably would’ve dismissed that too, if he hadn’t been pretty sure he’d run into an invisible person himself back at the Decoy Motel.

Johan glanced at the gloomy sky, the weak morning light barely piercing the thick, scudding clouds. Beside him, Tim’s voice droned on like a wind-up doll, an endless loop of chatter Johan mostly managed to filter out.

A doll. The word sparked a familiar image: a small teddy bear. Johan’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, catching the gentle sway of a lone cross hanging there. Tim, following his gaze, piped up.

“You must be a religious guy, huh?”

“Something like that.”

Johan kept it vague, but it only seemed to fuel Tim’s curiosity. He cleared his throat, voice rough from talking non-stop, and leaned in, dark eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint.

“Well then, you might not wanna hear this ghost story…” Tim’s voice trailed off, ending with a low, almost sinister chuckle.

“A ghost story?” Johan, practically silent the entire trip, finally spoke with genuine interest.

Tim flashed a wicked grin, pulling his backpack onto his lap with a wince, the lump on his forehead still throbbing. “Yeah, man. Got a story that’ll really set the mood. Spice things up a bit.”

And with that, Tim launched into the tale of Timothy, the unlucky hitchhiking ghost. The story was a chaotic mess, a jumble of random details that felt like a first draft desperately needing an editor. But Tim told it with an almost manic energy, his voice taking on an obsessive intensity as he described Timothy’s life and brutal murder. He even started mimicking the ghost’s mannerisms, his movements becoming strangely unsettling.

As Tim recounted Timothy’s botched suicide attempts, his hand unconsciously drifted to his own forehead, fingers tracing the swollen lump as he described Timothy cracking his head on a rock. When he got to the part where Timothy skinned his knees in a fall, Tim lightly tapped his kneecaps in sync with the story. But it was the gruesome climax that truly sent Tim over the edge, his voice escalating to a frantic pitch as he narrated Timothy’s brutal murder and the callous disposal of his body in the unforgiving wilderness. Tim seemed to channel the ghost’s raw rage and bitterness, his words dripping with a venom that felt disturbingly personal.

Through it all, Johan listened with a single, persistent thought… the story was pretty average, not exactly the kind of thing Seojun would appreciate. Was it even worth remembering?

Tim’s intense gaze locked onto Johan, desperate for a reaction, but Johan’s handsome face remained frustratingly impassive. Despite being a young guy with a surprising passion for books, Johan wasn’t one for ghost stories and the supernatural. The idea of a soul simply vanishing after death didn’t resonate with him. And after facing down an actual space monster, his skepticism had only hardened. So, he tuned out the intricate details Tim had so painstakingly crafted into his tale.

“Hmm, not really my thing,” Johan said with a dismissive shrug.

Tim’s carefully laid plans screeched to a halt. Whatever you called him – Tim, Timothy, or just a hitchhiker with a serious streak of bad luck – he found himself nervously fiddling with the device tucked inside his backpack. Now activated, it would effectively kill any cell service on Mr. Handsome’s phone, and Tim couldn’t wait to see the look of confused frustration on that infuriatingly indifferent face.

He gave himself a silent pep talk, hugging his backpack tight for reassurance. Tim clung to the unshakeable belief that luck was still on his side. As it always had been.

The funny thing was, his ghost story wasn’t entirely made up. He might’ve embellished the family drama and financial woes for dramatic effect, but those suicide attempts? Those were painfully, tragically real.

Once upon a time, Tim was living the dream. A picture-perfect family, a beautiful lover who could stop traffic, and a bank account that gave inflation the middle finger. He was genuinely happy, the kind of happy that fools you into thinking it’ll last forever. But life, being the unpredictable beast it is, had a cruel twist in store.

A terminal diagnosis. A cold, hard reality check that ripped away his sense of invincibility. Despair choked him, snuffing out any glimmer of hope. Deep down, Tim knew early detection might have given him a fighting chance. But for a guy who’d always had it all, the idea of scrambling for survival was unbearable. The thought of his body betraying him, withering away into a frail, pathetic shell of his former self… it ignited a rage hotter than any jealousy he’d ever known.

So, Tim decided to take matters into his own hands. He’d write his own ending, a dark and twisted masterpiece where he controlled the final curtain call. But here’s the kicker about Tim… the guy was ridiculously lucky, even in this.

He tried everything, each suicide attempt more outlandish and disastrous than the last. It was like the universe itself had a personal vendetta against his grand exit, swooping in at the eleventh hour like an overbearing parent. Even the clichéd noose snapped like cheap thread.

Eventually, Tim threw in the towel. Not because he suddenly had some Hallmark-movie epiphany about the beauty of life, like that cheesy ghost story about Timothy. No, he was just plain exhausted. His mind and body were battered, worn down by the constant failures. The endless struggle, the relentless fighting… it all felt futile. All he craved now was the sweet oblivion of sleep, to sink into a soft bed and let his weary body and mind finally power down.

Tim climbed back into his car, the engine humming to life as he navigated the deserted forest road. His eyelids felt heavy, weighted down with exhaustion. The urge to just close his eyes was almost overwhelming. Just as they started to flutter shut, a flash of pale white legs, illuminated by his headlights, seared themselves onto his retinas. Then, a terrible thud against the hood jolted him awake.

By the time Tim’s eyes snapped open, it was too late.

He stumbled out of the car, the engine still running, its headlights casting a harsh glare on a pair of stark white legs sprawled across the asphalt. The rumble of the engine mixed with the raucous cawing of crows and the pained whimpers of the figure on the ground. Tim’s heart pounded as the reality slammed into him. Whoever it was, they were still alive.