The Riders of Saddle Road | VolunteerAlly

Saddle Road at night wasn’t a place people lingered. Too many stories. Too many things that didn’t belong to the living. But Nakana and his father had no choice, they were driving home to Hilo after visiting cousins in Kona.

Up ahead, six motorcycles emerged from the thickening fog, parked in a rigid line. Figures stood beside them, no headlights, no motion, no sound.

“Maybe their bikes broke down,” Nakana’s father said, slowing down.

Nakana stared at the figures. Something about them felt wrong, though he couldn’t explain it.
“I… I don’t know,” he said softly. “Let’s just keep going.”

But the truck was already slowing down. Up close, Nakana could see the riders more clearly. They stood beside their bikes, perfectly still. Not shifting. Not adjusting. Just… still.

“Eh!” his father called out through the window. “You guys okay?”

Nothing.

But the riders began to move, not toward them, but together. Slowly, they lifted their heads. Nakana’s breath caught in his chest.

They had no faces.

No eyes. No mouths. Just smooth, pale skin stretched where features should’ve been.

Nakana and his father froze.

His father clamped both hands on the wheel, jaw clenched. “Hold on.”
He didn’t wait for a response, just floored it.

The truck lurched forward. They drove past the riders without looking, keeping their eyes straight ahead. A few moments later, the road was empty behind them.

No bikes.
No riders.
Nothing but silence and the hum of the engine.

No one spoke for the rest of the drive. When they finally pulled into their driveway in Hilo, they sat there, hearts racing, staring ahead in silence. Nakana’s father finally broke the quiet, voice low and rough: “We… we just got lucky. Let’s never stop here again.”

They’d remember that night for the rest of their lives… even if they could never find the words to describe it.

Based on a true story…