Let me give it a shot.

"Oga abeg help me" he pleaded, his teeth chattering as the heavy down pour intensified. His torn cloths were draggled and the deafing sound of the thunder continued forever. Following my instincts, I pushed my writing pad to the back seat before opening the door for him. Picking a stranger at the dead of the night has never been part of me but seeing an elderly man shiver non stop under the cold rain was an unbearable sight even the devil will be obliged to help.

"Thank you sir!" He kept saying in excitement as we drove down the lonely highway. Observing as he adjusted the seat to accomodate his massive size, all I kept thinking was the pain of cleaning up the mess he was creating. An unbearable stench filled the air as he pulled off his wet coat.

"I have never had a good bath like this for ages" he chuckled and for once, the thought of him being a mad man crossed my mind.

"But he sounds sane person" I reassured myself.

At interval, he tried to start a conversation but I was not in the mood for that. Dropping him at the next bus stop was all I wanted to do. Moreover the biblical good Samaritan never spoke with the Jewish fellow he helped.

There was something unique about him that kept throbbing my heart. It seemed I have heard all his utterance before but I can't think it through.

Weaves of anxiety flooded my whole being as I spoke his next possible sentence and we ended up saying the same thing like we rehearsed it.

It seemed more crazy and impossible as the source of his lines dawned on me.

Our eyes locked each time I tried to steal a glance at him. Sensing the tension building, he decided to relieve me a bit by bursting the bubble, leaving me stunned than earlier.

"Charles you did not even recognize your creation!"...

"I won't take it!" He fired as I tried to explain my own reasons.

"You left me inactive for years!" He yelled back, refusing to accept my excuses.

It was impossible to believe, I thought it was daydreaming but it's clarity made denial impossible.

Here I was, arguing with a stranger and not just an everyday stranger but a character from one of my unfinished stories I never shared with anyone.

"5 years of loneliness and inactivity! Charles!"

"You left me to grow old just like that without the love of my life, Hanna" he wailed, then bursted into uncontrollable tears.

"Listen Ben" I lied, using a different name from the one I gave him. I have tried all sort of trick but I was busted each time, making me believe it's him.

"Give up the old trick! You named me Philip, Mr. Liar!" he corrected me, sounding more disgusted with me. It made me more scared than before.

Philip was a character I created in my final year in secondary school. He lost his family in a car accident and was left alone in the world to fend for himself. Determined never to give up, he weathered the storm and was meant to meet the love of his life in chapter 3 of my short story but it never happened. I lost interest in the story and never finished it.

15 years later, I offered Philip a lift and explaining why I never gave him the life he yearned for despite making him pass through severe hardship.

I felt relieved when I saw the bus stop sign few meters away from us. My pleads fell on deaf ears all these while and I was becoming increasingly irritated.

"Sir you need to come down here" I pleaded bringing the car to a halt. But he was no where to be found except for my soaked passenger's seat.