John's heart hammered loudly. "This is not the way to my home!" he shouted, anxiously.
The car turned 360° and John's head spun around, making him feel dizzy. And the car resumed its pace.
"No! Turn it 180°, please!" John even tried reaching for the driver's shoulder but felt empty and hollow were the driver's body supposed to be resting. Cold. Was all he felt and so he withdrew his hand, embracing his frame with the backpack on his back, making him uncomfortable in his seat.
The car spun into 180° and drove back to their trace. Then the car returned to his home's right direction.
"God, help me, please," he prayed, trembling, hands on his lips clasped together in prayer.
Then car stopped abruptly, making him to kiss the seat in from of him, only to feel the cold, empty space again. He turned to look for the driver but he was nowhere to be found. Out of fear, John opened the taxi's door and went knocking their door, forgetting to pay someone who didn't exist or is?