Oracle Media

When a child cries in the forest at midnight, either a mother is dy!ng… or the de@d are looking for company.

Musa remembered those words too late.

The engine refused to start.

Musa turned the key again.

Nothing.

Only silence.

Cold silence.

Rain dripped steadily from the roof of the bus while the sound of the crying baby floated through the forest like a wounded spirit.

Musa’s hands trembled on the steering wheel.

Slowly…

Very slowly…

He looked into the rear mirror again.

The woman was still seated at the back.

But beside her now sat a small child.

A little girl.

Her head lowered.

Her clothes soaked with mud.

Musa’s throat tightened instantly.

He never heard the door open.

Never heard footsteps.

The child simply appeared.

His breathing became shallow.

“Madam…” he whispered, “whose child is that?”

The woman did not answer.

Instead, she gently stroked the girl’s wet hair.

The crying from outside stopped immediately.

Now the only sound remaining was the rain.

Musa’s heart pounded heavily.

Something was wrong.

Very wrong.

He gathered courage and turned halfway toward them.

“Did… did the child enter the bus?”

The woman finally spoke.

“She was lonely.”

Musa swallowed hard.

The little girl slowly lifted her face.

And Musa nearly screamed.

Her eyes were completely white.

No pupil. No darkness. Only pale white emptiness.

He quickly faced the road again, sweating heavily despite the cold weather.

The old conductor’s warning echoed in his ears:

“If the night begins to breathe… do not stop the bus.”

Suddenly—

The bus shook violently.

Then the engine roared back to life on its own.

Musa gasped.

He did not wait.

He pressed the accelerator immediately.

The bus sped forward through the lonely forest road.

Branches scraped the sides like fingernails.

Wind howled strangely between the trees.

And behind him…

He heard soft singing.

A lullaby.

The woman was singing quietly to the child.

But the song sounded old.

Ancient.

Like something forgotten by the living.

Musa tried not to listen.

But every word entered his ears like smoke.

“Sleep little child…

The river has carried the living away…

Sleep little child…

The night remembers their names…”

His hands shook harder.

Then suddenly—

His phone rang.

Musa nearly jumped.

The screen showed: AMINA CALLING

His wife.

He answered quickly.

“Amina!”

But all he heard was crying.

Not ordinary crying.

Painful crying.

Then Amina finally spoke between sobs.

“Musa… our daughter is missing.”

The world around him froze.

“What?!”

“She disappeared after sunset… people have searched everywhere…”

Musa’s chest tightened violently.

“No… no… check the neighbors again!”

Then Amina whispered something that turned his blood cold.

“She was last seen standing beside the road… talking to a strange barefoot woman.”

Musa slowly looked into the rear mirror again.

The woman was smiling faintly now.

The little girl beside her began humming the
same lullaby.

Musa’s fingers became weak on the steering wheel.

Then suddenly—

The child spoke for the first time.

In a tiny cracked voice.

“Daddy…”

Musa’s heart stopped.

That voice…

It sounded exactly like his missing daughter.

Musa slammed the brakes in terror.

The bus skidded violently across the muddy road.

Then the headlights flashed forward—

And revealed dozens of silent people standing in the middle of the forest.

None of them had faces.

To be continued...

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