The Woman in Black, by Bonnie Green

I wake up and groan. “Where am I?” I mutter aloud, and suddenly a feeling akin to being hit over the head with a cast-iron skillet seeps into my skull. Opening my eyes, I realize that I’m on the cold, wet streets of London, still in my swanky pirate costume. “How did I get here?” I sit up and rub my eyes, makeup smearing on my hands. Shakily, I stand and raise my arm to hail a taxi home.

A black taxi pulls over, and a young man’s face peers out the windows. He has dark, neat hair, blue eyes, and thin glasses. He’s very pale.

“You need a lift?” he asks sincerely. “I need to make a quick detour, but I’ll take you straight home afterwards. I’m checking on a house for sale and…”  He shrugs and opens the door. 

I step in and sit next to him. “Thank you very much, sir,” I mutter, eyes on my folded hands in my lap. “And I don’t mind a detour. I don’t have to get home so fast.” I live alone, odd for a woman my age.
 
We arrive at a remote manor, far from any civilization. I immediately tense. Something in me is deeply scared.
 
The young man next to me gets out of the car. “I’ll be back soon. Wait here.” But, not even five minutes later, I hear him scream. And he is there at the dark window of the second floor, and behind him is a ghostly pale woman.

A woman in black.
 
He looks at me with nothing other than sheer terror on his face. Then, the woman pulls him back, away from the window, and I never see the young man again.