He climbed off the bus, completely exhausted after a long day at college, and starting walking down the windy country road that he was so used to. The one thing he really hated about this time of year was the fact that it was only 6 o’clock, but it was already pitch black. Headphones in, music blaring, he was oblivious to everything around him. As he walked, he got the sense that he was not alone on the road. He was used to this feeling, what with it being the countryside and every field having livestock in it. But as he looked around him, seeing as best he could in the dark, he noticed that he couldn’t see any outline of any sheep or cows. ‘Strange’ he thought ‘they were there this morning.’ He kept walking, assuming it was nothing. Then he heard it. A blood-curdling scream seemed to emanate from everywhere around him. He ripped the headphones from his ears and pressed his palms as hard as he could, trying to block out the noise. It wasn’t just painful, it was unsettling. It seemed to be coming from everywhere, and nowhere, all at the same time, and worse than that, it sounded like it was coming from his head. The pain was getting too much. He felt sweat run down his face, no, wait, it was too thick to be sweat. He rubbed his hands over his face, looking at the red liquid coating them. It was coming from everywhere, his eyes, nose, mouth, ears, fingers, everywhere. As the pain increased and the screaming become intolerable, he looked down the road, and saw her standing there. He had known the rumour of The Lonely Lady all his life, a woman who, distraught by the fact she accidentally drowned her only children in the bath, consumed a multitude of bleaches, cleaning products and alcohol, wandered out into the road, bleeding from every possible part of her body, and died in agony. ‘My children, YOU killed them’ she shouted at him, as she extended her arms and wrapped her ice-cold hands around his head. ‘Please’ he cried ‘it wasn’t me, it was you. You did this to them, PLEASE!’ This didn’t seem to be enough for her, and her hands seemed to penetrate his head, his screams matching those he heard earlier, and then everything went black.
When he came to, he knew something was different. He was standing on the road, and what he saw couldn’t be real. He was watching himself get off the bus and walk towards himself, as he had done what felt like 5 minutes ago. He looked at his hands, but they weren’t his. They were a woman’s hands, a woman’s hands that we dripping blood from their fingernails. He started walking towards himself, unable to control what was happening. His mouth opened and he screamed, the same scream that he heard earlier. He then realised, he was going to see himself die, over and over again. ‘This is it,’ he thought. ‘This must be what Hell is…’