Creepy - I Found a Dark and Lonely Road
Episode Date: February 17, 2020It was supposed to be a shortcut...***Written by Shadowswimmer77***Check out our reward tiers at patreon.com/creepypod***You can also subscribe to us on YouTube:https://www.youtube.com/creepypod***Pro...duced by Steve Blizin***Title music by Alex Aldea***Intro/Outro Narration by Joe Stofko Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.
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Now, this is creepy.
A podcast dedicated to sharing
the most famous,
chilling and disturbing creepy pastas
and urban legends in the world.
Whether these stories truly happened or are simply fabrications is for you to decide.
These stories may contain graphic depictions of violence and explicit language.
Listener discretion is advised.
You presents.
I found a dark and lonely road.
Written by Shadow Swimmer 77.
I try to live my life without too many.
regrets. I've had highs and lows like everyone else, sure. But I do what I can not to worry
too much about what could have happened if I'd made a different choice. If I maybe hadn't taken
the road less traveled, I figure everyone makes the best decisions they can with the information
they have available to them at the time. Going through all the what-ifs is ridiculous, because the
only way you would have made a different choice is if you'd had some other detail, which of course
you didn't.
Hindsight is perfect.
And even then, you can never be sure exactly what the sequence of events might have looked
like if you'd gone right instead of left.
And yet there is one choice I made.
One road I took.
That I just can't help but wonder how things might have turned out if I'd only done something
different.
My job hasn't moved around pretty regularly.
I'm not going to get into what I deal.
And there's no bearing on the story.
But a couple years ago, I was working in Philadelphia and living on the other side of the Delaware River and Cherry Hill, New Jersey.
I'm originally from northwestern Pennsylvania and since this was the closest I'd been to home since I moved out to college.
I took the chance to go see my parents whenever I could.
I knew I'd be moving again before long.
My folks aren't getting any younger.
So I tried to find a weekend every month or so to make the seven-hour trip to visit them.
If I'd been thinking about it when I was looking for places to...
to rent. I'd have probably tried to live on the west side of Philadelphia and Savannah in Jersey
to avoid the traffic during rush hour. But by the time I realized it, the lease was signed,
and there wasn't much I could do. The drive to my hometown was pretty boring, or honestly,
it'd you cross the river, head up I-476 for an hour or so, then a long slog across basically
the entire expanse of Pennsylvania on I-80 before another hour north on I-79 to Erie,
Pennsylvania, where I'm from.
The only variance in the drive was how long it would take me to get through Philly,
because once I got on the 476 extension, I could typically predict my ETA within five or ten minutes.
My second summer in Jersey, I'd taken two weeks off and planned on spending the second week
in Erie.
Things changed that first Wednesday, though.
This big storm blew through and knocked out power in a good part of the area where I was living.
Dealing with 90-degree heat with no air, air,
condition it wasn't something I particularly felt like spending the first half of my vacation
doing. So, after one uncomfortably sweaty night, I let my parents know I'd be heading over
a few days early. In retrospect, I should have left the first thing in the morning. But because I had
a couple of things to take care of before heading out, by the time I finally got on the road that
Thursday, I was past lunchtime and getting on toward mid-afternoon. For whatever reason, the traffic
and feel it was particularly heavy, and by the time I finally got through town, I was a good hour
behind schedule.
Though, based on my normal timeline, I figured I'd still be able to make it in early enough
to grab a dinner and beer with my dad and brother before cashing in for the night.
Two things I hadn't taken into consideration with a number of other folks that apparently
had the same idea to get out of town that I did.
And the road construction that must have sprung up in the time since my last trip home.
The interstate highway system is act of a thing.
Being able to zip along at 65, 70, or in some remote places like West Texas, even faster than that.
Makes cross-country automobile travel take a fraction of the hours that would otherwise.
It was my folk would reminisce about the days before the interstate.
We're going to see friends outside of D.C. would take almost twice as long as it does now.
What's truly remarkable to me, though, is even though the entire system of highways,
was built start to finish in mere 35 years.
Sure seems like when parts of it go under construction they stayed that way forever.
Traffic was uncharacteristically heavy, but then I was making decent time until I saw the
first road warning signs letting me know that our four lanes were reduced to three.
Then two.
And the tone stretched down the road as far as I could see.
And see I certainly could as cars in front of me reached a complete and total standstill.
It was one of the worst deadlocks I've ever been in.
Seriously, I think I moved a mile in it for about three hours my stomach started grumbling.
With an exit just ahead, and I went to the traffic jamming site.
I got off and found a diner to grab some dinner.
Even if traffic miraculously picked up, I still had a solid five hours of driving ahead of me.
So at that point I knew for sure it was going to be pretty late that I was getting in.
After finishing eating, I got back on the road.
But then I came up to the back end of the jam and I was right back to waiting.
Sun started edging toward the horizon, I pulled out my phone and started to see if Google Maps could clue me in on any kind of workaround.
It's a funny thing about human nature.
Studies at airports show people would rather walk further to baggage claim to get their luggage, even if the total time would have been less if they'd had a slightly longer way to plane side.
The power of the internet appeared to be in my favor.
No, I-80 still showed as a dark red band for another 50 miles or so.
There's a southbound county road coming up in a few miles, and I northbound a couple after that,
either which looked like they let me bypass the worst of the traffic.
Since I'd spent the better part of the day sitting on the road my patience was about worn out.
And I opted to take the southbound road, even though the app told me it would ultimately
take about 30 minutes longer to get to my parents' house.
I just wanted to get moving again, and reasoned at this rate it might take me more than.
than 30 minute difference to get the Northbone Road anyway.
That is a choice that will haunt me until the day I die.
And immediately felt the signs alternate limiting my speed between 35 and 40 miles an hour.
But even that seemed like flying compared to the log jam I just spent the last several hours in.
The drive was, the road started a little twisty, with plenty of elevation changes as it curved
up and around the hills of central Pennsylvania.
It took me on a general southwest diagonal but turned and doubled back on itself enough.
And that for the first 30 minutes or so, I got regular views of the stall traffic on I-80.
Pretty soon after that, though.
Just about the time, the sun was just dipping down beneath a couple of hills in my review mirror.
The throat took a long, curving tack and carried me down and away out of the side of the interstate.
Something a lot of people don't realize is how big of a state Pennsylvania is.
There are plenty of bigger ones.
But PA is deceptively big.
Translation of the name means Penn's Woods, after all.
The Blair Witch Project didn't have to embellish that aspect of the state.
The fact that you could head into the woods and walk for a dozen miles in any direction
without seeing anything like another human being.
It's got a decent number of big cities.
Pittsburgh and Philly both have enough of a population to support major sports teams.
But away from those centers of development, the Harrisburg.
and the Potsville's and the Scrantons and what have you.
Nothing.
Such was the road I was traveling that night, winding through the twists and turns of the Appalachian
foothills.
I've moved around a lot, I mentioned.
Traveled through most of the continental states anyway.
I sometimes used to wonder, when I'd be driving along a patch of asphalt surrounded by only untamed
wilderness, struck such a road.
What had it been like before men had intruded with our civilization and our machines?
That's since that night when I went left instead of right.
The way continued to twist back and forth, up and down.
As I wound deeper into the foothills, the trees grew thicker,
branches from either side of the road reaching over and almost touching,
forming a natural canopy 20 feet up that blocked out much of my view of the sky and the stars above.
I drove with my high beams on,
because the idea of streetlights have never ended the minds of whoever built this road.
The painted lines were old and not well-kewarmed,
cared for. And I found myself gradually straddling the faded double yellow partition running down
the middle of the two lanes to keep some distance between myself and the trees that increasingly
encroached the pavement's edge. I've never been a particularly good navigator. My parents used to say it
was because I spent my childhood with my nose pushed into a book during car rides. But I personally
just think it's because I'm bad at it. So it was that, despite there was no possible way I could
be lost.
As there were no other roads I could have possibly turned onto and gotten off track, that I
more and more frequently found myself checking my phone to ensure I was still on the right path,
which is how I almost ran into the other car.
My mind was wandering, thinking about the fact that my signal bar had dropped and remained at
zero for the last 20 minutes.
What possible implications that could mean if I should have some kind of emergency?
I raised my eyes back to the road after Google Maps confirmed for probably the 20th time
I was still good on my route choice and
after my brain took a beat of process
that what I was rapidly approaching was a vehicle
stopped in the middle of the lane.
Slam my foot on the brake.
I stopped in time, but not by much.
It was maybe five feet separating
my hood from the other car's rear bumper.
It was pounding in my chest
as adrenaline course through my body.
But my fear quickly gave way to anger.
Seriously.
What the hell was this guy doing?
Not only was he stopped in the middle of the middle of the same.
of the road, but all his lights were off.
If I hadn't had my high beams on there'd have been a good chance I wouldn't have seen
him before I was practically on top of him.
Even if I hadn't been checking my phone, I could feel my pulse beating in my veins on the
side of my neck.
I'm not someone particularly quick to road rage.
After a couple quick breaths, I managed to get a hold of myself.
Not wanting to outright alarm anyone that might still be in the vehicle.
I shifted into reverse and backed up about 20 feet.
popping my hazel's on.
That's when I started noticing a few odd things well to stop car.
More than just the fact that the lights were out.
Of course, it was halted directly in the middle of the road.
But that wasn't unreasonable since there wasn't any shoulder to speak of
that the driver could have moved it over to.
The strange thing, though, was that all the doors were open.
Those on the driver's side even crossing over slightly into the oncoming lane.
And on further observation,
I saw an item dropped out onto the road by the rear driver's side door, something that appeared
to be a child stuffed animal.
I consider my options and after a few seconds, decided that I would have to go against my better
judgment to just keep on my merry way and head outside to get a better idea what was going
on.
I said earlier that my job doesn't have anything to do with this story, which is mostly true.
But before you judge my decisions too harshly, the pair's mentioning that I spent some time in
the military. An obligation to help people has been drilled into me over the years, and I've
seen enough things well deployed to feel I could handle myself. And so I got out of my car,
but kept running. I popped the trunk to grab the flashlight I'd keep on there, left my headlights
on so I could see what I was doing. I looked up and down the road, hoping to spy signs of other
cars approaching, but no luck. Hello? I called up to the other cars as I cautiously started
my approach, circling around to the left towards the middle of the road so I'd be able to get
a look inside before I got too close.
Anyone there?
No answer.
The beams from my headlights help some, but there were enough shadows to still obscure the car's
interior.
Shining my flashlight, though, easily determined that no one was inside.
I moved closer, stooping down by the rear door to pick up the fallen object off the ground.
It was a child's toy, just as I had suspected.
I stuffed rabbit with well-worn patches showing signs of frequent love.
I frowned.
If the folks traveling in the car, I'd hitched a ride with the passerby,
they would have taken the rabbit, or the kid would have thrown a connipion.
I shut the rear door and moved up to the front.
I put my hand down the hood and found it was still warm to the touch.
That meant I couldn't have been there terribly long.
I slid to the driver's seat to try and figure out if there was some kind of mechanical issue
that would force the car to stop, and was startled to find a set of keys still dangling
from the ignition.
Pressing the brake, I turned the key and the engine started right up.
Headlights and dome light and rough spring into life.
Fuel, oil, temperature, battery.
All the gauges look good, not even a check engine light.
Curiouser and curiouser.
Then I saw the purse in the passenger seat, a shoulder bag, and briefly rummaged around before finding a wallet inside.
Everything appeared to be intact.
About $40 in cash.
A couple credit cards, gym membership, Sam's Club card.
The driver's license named the owner as Mary Walker.
A pretty blonde that had just turned 30 the month before.
A couple pictures showed Mary in staged poses sitting on a blanket under a tree whose leaves were turning red and yellow.
captured in the thrall of autumn.
A huge bearded lumberjack of a man hugged her from behind.
A small ponytail girl with a goofy over-exaggerated smile on her lap.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
A shiver running down to the base of my spine.
Something was very wrong with this situation.
I put everything back in the purse and returned it to the seat.
Turned off the car and got out.
Shending to drive his door behind me.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed 911, holding it over my head to try and get a connection with no luck.
Cursing softly, I jammed the red end call button and moved around to the passenger side of the car.
I played my flashlight around and noticed that some of the foliage at the edge of the road was bent and trampled,
like someone had walked through it.
I didn't have enough woodcraft to be able to judge how long ago they might have passed.
But even then, I couldn't imagine any scenario for why they would have gone wandering.
shining my light into the woods.
The beam only extended maybe 30 feet through the trees before being effectively swallowed
by the greedy blackness.
At this stuff rabbed my trees crowding maliciously.
My thoughts steed back and forth between what I should do.
It was hardwired into my system.
There was a child somewhere in the woods.
I raised my foot to take a step onto the beaten path.
And that's when a white flicker and movement under the very edge of my flashlight beam.
Hello?
Anyone there?
More shapes came into view behind her, shambling along.
Here are the bearded man who must be Mary's husband.
There, her little daughter, one of the well-loved rabbit, both naked, both moving as oddly as their wife and mother.
And now I could tell there were more.
Many forms a mystique out of the direct light.
And they caused the darkness to pitch and swell with their odd stagering passive.
Their voice is a chorus.
Hello?
Hello?
Anyone there?
Anyone there?
Anyone there?
Anyone there?
Question I'd asked only a few short minutes ago when I'd approach the abandoned car.
Step back, away from the woods and the approaching automaton's,
tripping into the walker's car.
Catching my balance, I involuntarily showed my light into the pitch recesses of the branches.
And in doing so, it could just make out barely a sort of darkness crouched in the upper limits.
Avoid even dark my imagination.
Those lines of pure blackness had extended from that concealed mass and seemed to pierce the flesh of Mary Walker in her kin.
And the countless other shapes moved.
Hello?
Anyone there?
Headlights and hazards flashed walking, wiggling.
Hello?
Oh.
Avoid running off the road as I completed a three-point turn.
Anyone there?
The glance in my rearview mirror.
The pale form of Mary Walker stood a halted just at the edge of the forest where the trees met the road.
One hand was raised beckoning me to return.
Perhaps waving goodbye.
Their face a mask of confused sadness.
Press the gas and drove back the way I came.
I did not look past the trip was a fog.
At some point, after a day.
I made it back to the interstate I called my parents, let them know I wouldn't be getting
in until late.
I drove on autopilot, the traffic jam having cleared while I was off, told them, and to
what end to go through life with too many regrets, wondering about what ifs.
But this one, choice.
What if I had left earlier in the day?
What if I hadn't stopped for dinner?
Maybe I would have still gone left.
Maybe I would have been there in time to help the walkers.
Maybe I would have been taken by the black thing fishing in the dark.
What if I had gone right?
Would I still be ignorantly going through life?
Unknowing that there are other things out there, think of it too often.
But every now and then my thoughts turned to the stuffed rabbit.
It wasn't until I reached my parents' house that night that I realized I still had it clutched in my hand.
I used to wonder.
before men brought our roads in civilization.
What was the wilderness like?
What lived there?
I can't afford to.
At least if I don't want to wake up screaming,
or how bad the traffic,
always stick to the interstate.
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