Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S1 Ep33: Episode 33: Truck Driver Horror Stories

Episode Date: June 10, 2021

Tonight's show is proudly sponsored by Manscaped: get 20% Off and Free Shipping with the code CREEP at https://www.manscaped.com/  Today’s first fantastic offering is ''Off the Highway'', by Mr. Redowns, shared on the Creepypasta Wiki and read here under the conditions of the CC-BY-SA license. https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/User:MrRedowns  Today’s second true tale of terror is ''I'm a Delivery Truck Driver Who Saw Something Weird and Unexplainable'', an original work by Late Trucker, kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me exclusively narrate it here for you all.  https://www.reddit.com/user/late_trucker/    Today’s third phenomenal tale of the macabre is ''…And Where Would You Like the Nightstand?'', an original work by rd9777, kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me exclusively narrate it here for you all.  https://www.reddit.com/user/rd9777  Today’s fourth story is ''The Black Dog'', an original work by Hammer Lane 95, kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me exclusively narrate it here for you all.  https://www.reddit.com/user/HammerLane95  Tonight’s next tale of terror is ''My Encounter with Bigfoot'', an original work by Robo 1977, kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me exclusively narrate it here for you all.  https://www.reddit.com/user/Robo1977/  Our penultimate work is ''Under the Bridge'', an original work by Hammer Lane 95, kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me exclusively narrate it here for you all.  https://www.reddit.com/user/HammerLane95  Today’s final tale of the weird and fantastical is ''I'm A Female Truck Driver… My Advice Is to Never Ever Drive Down A Haunted Road'', a wonderful story by SkyBruceLee23, kindly shared with me via my sub-reddit and narrated here for you all with the author’s express permission: https://www.reddit.com/user/SkyBruceLee23/ 

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please contact Connix Ontario at 1866-531-2600 to speak to an advisor free of charge. BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with Eye Gaming Ontario. Welcome to Dr. Creepin's dungeon. Now there is a road, no simple highway, between the dawn and the dark of night. And if you go, no one may follow. For that path is for your steps alone. Let's hope we never follow the paths of the seven protagonists in tonight's stories. Now, as ever before we begin, a word of caution.

Tonight's stories may contain strong language as well as descriptions of violence and horrific imagery. If that sounds like your kind of thing, then let's begin. Ten years. Ten long years looking for that road off the highway. Now that I'm here, I'm frozen in place. Do I drive forward? My foot slowly moves away from the pedal and I stare at the long, narrow, straight road. I think about that night all those years ago. What brought me here again? Do I expect answers?

Do I want answers? Yes. Yes, I do. It's truly odd how I can remember that night with such clarity, but can barely remember what I ate for breakfast last week. I had a bowl of cocoa puffs at around 3 a.m. I worked at night shift. I went and took a shower at 3.50.m.

And I remembered that I had a big load of furniture to deliver by dawn. So I then hurriedly got dressed for work. I wore black boots, blacky blue jeans, red flannel, and a tan body warmer for the cold, cold Colorado summer night. I drove and got there at 4 a.m. It said that when people suffer a traumatic event, they can remember the most mundane of tasks, actions and daily events that happened that same day. Awed, isn't it? Well, back in 2004, I was a truck driver for a small company that delivered furniture that was centered in Durango, Colorado. The shipment was to Biston.

For those who don't know, the trip takes a few hours by car, and the shipment was to reach place by the crack of dawn when the store was to open. I, like my forgetful self, was late. My partner, Eric Singer, turned to me in a slightly annoying tone and said, "'God damn it, Travis, what are the hell of you being? It's 4 a.m. For Christ's sakes, we're running a business.' I apologized and gave an excuse. He nodded and replied.

No problem, just don't do it again or you get fired. I'll have no one to talk to. I smiled. Eric was a good guy, good co-worker and a good friend. I looked at my semi-truck. It was a bright crimson that stood out in the blue lighting of the company truck stop. And the black grey clouds. It was a monster of a machine, bound in metal.

And since it had been recently cleaned, it shone like the sun when a light bounced off the rim. I opened the door and Eric did the same. We sat down and started the car and the beast woke from an electric slumber. The radio came to life with a few tunes that it sang as my foot hit the pedal and we drove into a long night. I'm driving on a remote Colorado highway. You can only expect a few lights, however you may get some light from the lonely moon up above. Today we weren't blessed with such luck and only had synthetic light to guide us through this trip. Eric and I talked, talked about his wife and daughter,

when I talked about my fiancé. Ah, you're growing up too fast, pal, he said with a smile. I laughed. I was 25 back then, which was old enough to be engaged, but he was 55 and still saw me as a youngster. He then told me he just recently bought his wife a ring to surprise her with for the anniversary. He showed it to me. It wasn't much by most people's standards,

but since our pay barely gave us enough to survive, and since he was trying to keep his family alive and healthy, it was a sight to be seen. Eric wasn't given the chance for an education so he took up this job and worked hard so his kid could go to college

and one day live a better life than he did I took the job because I was hungry Oh I'm telling us she will love this Eric said with a big goofy grin I hope so Anyways

How much more of this highway do we have left Oh let me see here He said as he poured out a dingy man Oh geez we're hours away I sighed and took out of smoke. He was right we were never going to make it on time. Our boss would have our heads dished out to himself like the king of France. A few puffs blew out of my mouth and I put it out.

The smoke was getting in my eyes and same with Erics. You got to smoke those in here, pal. Things are unhealthy, he stated as he put the ring in the glove box. You sound like my mother. Your mother must have had a head on her shoulders. I guess she did. A street sign with lights flashing the words Biston 84 miles. It was 4.30 a.m. now, we would never make it.

Damn, Eric said under his breath, we are getting a pay deduction. Sorry, I said quietly. Yeah, don't get all bad now to shape or we're made mistakes. He patted me on the shoulder and I looked onto the dark road ahead of us. He was like my father. Hey, uh, you do me a favour and pull over? Why? I need to pee.

We'll be even more late. We're late as it is. What's the extra few minutes? Okay, I'll get off at the next exit. Just be quick. I did get off at the next exit onto a small road, a choice I will forever regret. The first sign to what we were going to experience

was that the radio was starting to fizzle out. The lights on it jittered and flashed and out. Slurs of Credence, Clearwater, and something else roar through the haze of confusion that was the radio. Then came a loud silence that filled the car. After the initial shock of the radio going like that, Eric slapped the thing. The damn thing lost the signal in this tree cover. Oh, I wish I happened. As he tried to finish his sentence, something truly bizarre happened.

The radio cut to what sounded like CB radio chatter. For those who are not in the know, CB radio is what truckers or even normal people were used to communicate with one another. In other words, imagine an extremely long-distance walkie-talkie. The thing is, though, this was a normal radio, not CB. Only top-notch radios can pick up CB and ours was not top-notch. What hell is that? Eric said in a confused tone.

What I heard, I would like to call it talking, but it was more odd than just that. for starters it wasn't in English or in any other language for that matter sounded like an old man was speaking gibberish or talking during inhales not exhales he seemed to go from whispering to a loud screaming and the fact that it was being heavily interfered with by static made it even worse Eric and I glanced at each other What do you think that is? I said in a whispered hush to Eric who responded with a simple No, no, can you pull over now we're off the highway and far from anyone's view

and fine I pulled over off the side of the road Eric opened the door and reluctantly stepped out of the 18-wheeler I sat in the truck and waited with a chitter-chatted to keep me company I tried to listen for any words that I could make out nothing but a strange mumble though

with an odd rustling to accompany it I still can't forget that broadcast and like a bad out of hell Eric swung open the door and climbed in "'Jesus Christ,' I shouted. "'He looked at me, out of breath, and confused. "'I heard something out there, rustling in the woods. "'Let's just get back to the highway, okay.'

"'Seeing him like that scared me even more. "'I'd seen him face it all, with a look of determination on him. "'Once we'd nearly skidded off the road, but he just laughed it off. "'But, well, a few noises in the woods.' "'I felt like he wasn't telling me something. However, at first I didn't push it I just turned the truck around and tried to get back to the highway Tried

We drove for nearly three minutes There was no highway in sight It was flat roads We made no turns and we didn't drive this far in What the hell was going on? Eric started to shiver And I noticed that the air was cold Hell, I could even see my breath

Let me tell you the more we drove The cordial it got Like a slow descent into the seventh surface of hell. Instead of the devil's flapping wings, we heard mumbling on the radio just as unnerving, though. He drove for five minutes more, ten minutes, an ungodly amount of time. Eric, since he jumped into the car, hadn't said anything to me. He just stared out the window into the cold black canvas of the forest. I decided to ask him about what had happened. I wanted answers, but also something to keep my mind off the damn cold.

Eric, what are you not telling me? What? I've never seen you so dazed in my life. I know you ain't telling me what truly happened out there. Come on, spill the beans, man. Fine. I swear to God, I saw you out there. What?

You. You looked older. When you glanced at me, I noticed you had a limp when you walked. You kept repeating my name before. you locked eyes with me. I stared at him, dumbstruck. I had the look of someone who'd just been slapped. Now, thinking back to those words, I find them even more horrifying.

Impossible, I protested. There's no way I could. I mean, it's... He then turned to me and, looking into his eyes, I knew he wasn't lying. Just then the car cut out and stopped its moving. All of the power was out, at least I thought it was. until I heard one word, one single word. In a deep inhale, I heard the first actual word on that radio

since we got off the highway, crystal clear. As that word was uttered into this world, the headlights of the car sprang to life, and we laid our eyes upon the shape of a man right in front of the truck. At least I thought it was a man. His back was to us, and it was naked. it. I saw its wrinkled with her skin covered with veins.

It had a bright grey colour to its skin, like a corpse, and its fingernails were long and gnarly. You! This time the radio spread it out more loudly and much more clearly. It turned its head back at us, and I could see its face.

He had no nose, scratches and scars on some places and many jagged teeth, but most notable, were the eyes. They were a bright yellow with a look of pure insanity. It moved its lipless mouth and said the word that it still burned into my mind. You, they looked to me and our eyes locked for about five seconds before the lights went dead again.

I had a stumbling run outside the truck and a loud weasy. All of a sudden the steel door to Eric's side of the truck was ripped open and the thing pounced in. Eric screamed and it scratched him with its claws. He held his hand to his face to where he'd received this injury. And the thing stared at him oddly for a few seconds before it grabbed him by the throat and threw him out of the truck with one hand. Then turned to me and smiled as it uttered, You again.

It grabbed me by my leg and out of pure fear I pushed down on the gas pedal and the truck surprisingly drove on. However, due to the jolt, this caused the thing to squeeze on my leg and I could feel my bone crush and veins pop. I yoped an inch closer to my face before we slammed into a tree. I hit my face against the airbag and dozed into unconsciousness. I felt myself dozing into unconsciousness. It got closer and its smile got even bigger.

Before I faded into black, I heard a bang and saw the glass of my windshield. would shatter. I woke up in a hospital bed a day later. My fiancé was there. What happened? I asked in a tired tone. You were in an accident, she said, as she tussled my hair in a reassuring manner.

Eric, where is he? A cop who stood in the corner entered my vision. That's what we'd like to know. Where is Eric's singer, Travis? I really don't know. He gave me the details. A passerby on the highway had found our truck, not on the road off the highway, but the actual highway. It was a mess.

Dents and scratches were all over the damn thing. Blood was splattered on the passenger side of the vehicle where the door had been ripped from its hinges. They found me unconscious with my leg crushed and a few scars from the broken glass that had cut my face up. They didn't find the passenger, Merrick. The cop asked me what had happened that night And I said I couldn't remember Not because I couldn't But because I would be sent to a loony bin if I did

A few days later I'd leave the hospital With a permanent limp and facial scars I'd go to the truck a few days later And look inside to see what I could find Nothing but broken glass and dry blood That is until I looked into the glove box And there was the ring that Eric was meaning to give to his wife As soon as I found it I rushed to the singer's residence.

I gave it to his wife and told her what it was and why I had brought it to her. She sobbed for a while as I reassured her that he was fine, which I to this day am not sure of. A girl of the age of eight entered the room and looked me in the eyes and asked where her father was. The fact that I couldn't answer that question bothered me greatly. I pitied that young child. It reminded me of when I'd lost my father. It had left a big hole that couldn't be filled and I knew it would affect her greatly as well. I got down on one knee and said to her,

I'm truly sorry, but I honestly don't know where he is, but I promise that I'll look for him every day until I find him. And I kept that promise to this very day. For ten years I looked down that highway for that road but could never find it. Since that fateful night my hair has grown thinner. I'm nearly bored now, my skin is paler, but in those days. 10 years, amazing things have happened. I got married to the woman I love and had a son.

I got a high-paying job managing my own business, and I give whatever money I can to the singers so they can live comfortably. I hear the girls going to college this year. Since those 10 years, I've carried a gun on me when I drive down the highway just in case I see that road, because as soon as I do, I know I must go down it. In those ten years I've always felt prepared for that event Until today Because today I found that road again

And I'm more frightened than I've ever been in my entire life Just now the radio stopped playing music And I can hear the old so familiar mumbling But this time it's much worse Because among the inhaled talking I can hear Eric's voice Calling my name I'm typing this on my phone by the exit of the heart

highway and I'm posting it here because I know someone will read it. If I don't come back, I love my wife and son very much and I wish I didn't have to do this, but I have to find Eric. I made a promise and I'll stick with it. I'm pulling into the road now, and I expect a long night ahead of me. Sincerely, Travis Harold Weaverland. You know what? Father's day is just around the corner, and nothing says, I love you, Dad, more than a world-class trimmer. That's right. The Lawmower 3.0 from Manscaped is the best body hair trimmer on the market. It offers precision-engineered tools for your family jewels, and you can get 20% off, plus three shipping,

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This experience happened to me in October 2018, and I've decided after much deliberation to tell it here. So I work as a delivery driver for a company that deals in your big household utensils. You know, fridges, cookers, things like that. Well, I don't want to give any details on the company, or the employer, but I'll just say I'm based in the Missouri area. Before I begin, just a little backstory on me. I'm an expat from Liverpool in England, which will explain certain things.

And, well, I met my lovely wife eight years ago when she was on holidays, and we hid it off. After a year of long distance back and forth, I finally made the jump and moved to the US to be with her. And we've been happily married ever since. Anyway, my job often involves long hours on the road, sometimes late into the night. Oh, there was me and a young kid. We'll call him Pete and he's the boss's son. We get along well enough, even though we don't have anything in common. Pete's your typical 20-something kid, usually glued to his phone. And I'm in my 40s, so yeah, what can you do? We don't even like the same sports. He's into his baseball, I'm still a die-hard Liverpool fan.

Well, we used to shit talk a lot on the road, and it makes the job easier on deliveries to have two people doing the lifting instead of one. So, it's near the end of October. Myself and Pete are just finishing up for the day when I get a call from the boss man. It tells me to head back to the pickup for one last order. This isn't anything new, mind you. Logistics is a mess at the company sometimes. When I hang up, Pete flips his lid as usual, and I take it in my strides. Pete starts going off on his dad about how things are a mess at the company, and that if he were running things, there'd be no last-minute deliveries.

I just mind my business, as usual. It wasn't the first time I'd heard that spiel. Pete's dad had put him on deliveries to teach him the value of good work, while he was completing a business degree at night classes in college. The problem was, you have to miss those classes when we were called for some late-night duties, so I could understand the kid's frustration. So we head back to the store and pick up a large refrigerator, all packed neatly in a cardboard box, then loaded onto the truck. I got the location up on the phone, and we set off for the long drive. Pete was still pissed because he had some drinking plans with some friends that night,

so he was mute for the hour-long journey. I put on the radio and just chilled before calling the wife, letting her know to put the dinner into the microwave. So, there we are on these pitch dark, dark, bowels. road's out in the sticks. I'm glancing at the phone every so often, noting that we're getting closer to our destination. We hadn't seen a house in ages, I was getting antsy that maybe the directions were wrong. Sure enough, the phone lets me know that we'd reach the end of the line. I slowed down, peering out the windscreen at the dark country lane, completely covered with

trees on both sides, the only light coming from the truck's headlights. I crawled to a stop and Pete glances up from his phone. It looks at me and asks what's going on. I tell him we've reached our destination. Fuck's sake. Don't tell me Dad gave us the wrong directions. He starts going off on his dad again. I tell him just to settle down. I was annoyed with myself, but I didn't want to hear another bout. Pete just shrugged and settled back to gazing at his phone, muttering to himself. I called the boss and let him know the situation. He assured me me that they were the right directions. It tells me to call the clients. I take a look at the docket and get the number, enter it on the phone and hit dial. No answer. I try again. Still no answer.

Pete gets out of the truck telling me he has to take a piss. I watched him walk into the dark edge of the road and called the boss again. He tells me I need to make that delivery, otherwise we'll be behind for the rest of the week. Then he instructs me to keep trying to call the client. drive up the road a bit to see if we can find the house. Well, I mumbled a half-hearted, yeah, and hung up. Even though these late-night last-minute deliveries were regular accounts, I never considered leaving the job. The boss is a decent enough fella, even if a little scattered,

and the pay is good, as well as the holiday leave. So, I'm waiting in the truck for a while, when I realize there's no sign of Pete. I get out and call his name. No answer. I tried looking into the pitch dark but couldn't see shit. I caught out for him again. Still nothing.

I was getting slightly worried and decided to walk down the road a bit. The truck's engine humming steadily behind me. I shout out. Hey, Pete, stop messing around. He finally answers. I let out a sigh of relief. Last thing I wanted was losing the boss's son in the middle of nowhere. I saw the white of his t-shirt under his open jacket, chugging up the road towards me.

I asked him what the frick he was doing. He points at a faint light through the trees behind it. I saw that light and thought it might be the place. I walked down the road to see if there's a way in. Found a gate in behind some bushes below. We get back in the truck and I reverse it down the road. He points me to the gates. Sure enough, it's tucked back in behind a sharp turn, almost invisible.

No wonder we hadn't seen it on the way up. We both had the same look on our faces, saying, this must be it. After some tricky maneuvering, we're heading up a patchy gravel drive. Some of the tree branches were so thick and bowed, we could hear them scraping off the top of the truck. A few minutes later, the house comes into view. It was an old house that you'd think was abandoned,

if not for the lights coming from inside. It had one of those surrounding. porches that you'd see in the rich suburbs. The wooden boardings on the walls were all flaked and peeling, like they'd never seen a lick of paint. Some old workshed stood off to the side, doors fastened shut. The only thing out of place was a nice-looking, expensive car that was parted in the drive, which meant to me that somebody must be at home. I swung the truck around and backed it up to the front door, then shut off the engine. We got out and I told Pete to get the fridge on the trolley. While he opened the back and went to task, I walked up to the front door, the

decking creaking under my boots, and gave it a sharp knock. I waited for an answer in what would have been a still quiet night, if not for the noise of Pete bringing the fridge down on the mechanical ram. I knocked again and waited some more. Pete made his way over to the steps leading up to the porch, trolley in hand. Maybe they're not home, he said. "'It's a car here and the lights are on,' I replied. "'So what if there's something wrong? "'This place is creepy as far.' "'I shook my head and smiled.

"'Before that day I didn't go in for all that stuff. "'Well, it wasn't the first time I had to make my rounds out in ass-crack nowhere, "'and I was used to so-called creepy houses in the nights. "'But not after that night. "'I was about to knock for a third time when I heard movement inside. I turned to Pete and gave him a wink saying, Here we go. The door opened and a young slight woman standing in front of us. She was pale and sweaty with the long dark hair tied in a bun.

She was wearing this striped black and pink jumper. That's a detail I'll never forget. It was just so odd. Actually, the whole demeanour was odd from the get-go. She looked at like she was sick, like she was just getting over the flu or something. I put on my best smile and told her we were here to deliver the fridge, apologising for the late call. She stared at me, confused. I showed her the docket and confirmed the address and name.

She looked back up at me with her dark eyes, and the confused look left her face. Oh yeah, I forgot that was today. Sorry, come in. She stood aside and I helped Pete get the first. fridge up the steps. Inside, the house was well kept, but a little old-fashioned with a faint musty smell. A few pictures hung on the walls of a little girl and an older woman, which I guess must have been her mother. There were also some various age photos of her mother, looking younger

and holding a baby surrounded by groups of other people in what must have been a large camp in some woods. I don't know why that detail comes to mind, but there you go. certainly as to the weird shit that went down in that house when i think about it she led us into the kitchen and i asked if she wanted us to take the old fridge away that's part of the service we provide she said yes and we got to work unplugging the old model you don't mind emptying it do you she said quietly there's not much in it i opened the door and sure enough it was pretty much empty no bother miss i told her As I took out the few meager items, Pete started unboxing the new fridge. All the while, she's just standing there, looking at her silently while scratching her up. Eventually she's rocking back and forth on her feet, looking jittery. Will you excuse me? she said quietly.

Without waiting for an answer, she took off down the hallway. Pete gave me a look and whispered. She's a strange one. Yeah, I think she's using, I whispered back. What? Drugs, heroin, you know. See her scratching her arm? She's all sweaty and sick.

Well, I've seen similar types of behaviour before when the drug user is looking for a fix. Oh, shit, I think you're right. Pete replied. Look, let's just get this one done quick, I said. Well, we put the new fridge in place and heave the old one onto the trolley in no time. There was no sign of the woman as we headed back outside to load it into the truck. I told Pete to go lock it up, and I went back inside to get her digital signature on the pad. I called for her, but there was no answer.

I went to the kitchen, she wasn't there either. On the way back to the front door, I spotted an open door up a short hallway. Now, I'm not one to go snooping around someone's house, but I'm also a stickler for procedure, if not for covering my own ass more than anything else. I don't want some asshole claiming they never got their item and putting me in the shit while I have to prove they did. So I just wanted to get the signature, end a long night and go home. I made my way up to the door and saw it led down to the basement.

I could see a faint light coming from below. Miss, are you down there? I said in a somewhat loud voice and waited in the silent house. I then heard something like radio static drift up from the basement. Maybe she didn't hear me, I thought. Maybe she's listening to music or something, which is why she didn't hear us knocking at first. And then, maybe she's using. The whole situation fell out of place, if you get what I mean.

Still, I began to make my way slowly down the steps and repeated myself in a louder voice. to be honest even I was starting to get a little creeped out I jumped when I heard Pete whisper behind me what's going on I think she's down here I said quietly let's just go

he said in a worried voice I put up a front smiled at him and said what you're afraid of that little girl he gave me a look telling me he didn't care what I thought I think he knew I was uneasy too look what if she's shooting up or something hardly i replied ah she wouldn't be that stupid to do that while we're in the house you know i was trying to rationalise that idea to myself rather than pete still a motioned us down and called for her again still no answer as we reached the end of the steps the static noise was louder there was a closed door in a small hallway to our left leading to the rest of the base

I was about to knock it down when I heard what sounded like a young girl's voice talking through the static. I looked back at Pete and his eyes were wide open. Then we heard mumbling coming from the strange woman. It sounded like she was talking to the little girl. Oh, I mouthed Pete. What the... He was busy looking back up the steps, obviously ready to sprint at the first sign of trouble. I went to the open door and he grabbed me by the shirt.

shoulder, shaking his head. No, maybe she's talking to someone over a radio or something, I whispered. Just forget the signature, he replied quickly. We're just freaking ourselves out at this stage, Pete. I said abruptly, trying to get a handle on the situation.

With that, I knocked on the door and opened it, saying, Miss? What I saw in that room below that old house will stay with me. me for the rest of my lives. It was the freakiest shit I've ever seen. And believe me, growing up on the mean streets of Liverpool, I've seen some shit. Homer's people being the

crap out of each other over a newspaper. A guy stabbed in the neck on a night out. But this one topped them on. The woman was sitting on this large steel plate with her back to us, which was attached to some kind of weird machine. There was what looked like a speaker system suspended in the middle of it, with an antenna on top. Coming out of the plated sides were all these flexible tubes

with needles on the end of them, lying on the floor like still tentacles. All except one, which was inserted into her own. She was in this deep, trance-like conversation with the little girl's voice coming out of the speaker. Can't remember what they were saying,

because I was in shock. Pete stood still beside me, mouth open. In that moment, my mind was all over the place, because I couldn't even understand what I was seeing. But the bit that still gets me, that still makes my skin crawl to this day, is what happened next. Suddenly, the little girl's voice goes quiet through the static, and the woman does too. I could hear my heart beat violently in my ears. After a moment, the girl in the speaker says, those two were watching us.

How the hell did she know we were there? With the cameras or something? Not that I can remember, and, well, I can still see that place vividly when I close my eyes. There was this screen thing on the machine, but it was off. I can still hear that exact

phrase when I think on it. That sweet little girl voice. speaking in a monotone way. Those two are watching us. The woman turned to look at us, her face covered in sweat, her skin a sickly pale. We stood still like a deer in headlights. Pete was shaking visibly, poor lad. And then she looked pissed.

She stood up and said in a firm, angry tone, What the fuck are you doing? We had no answer. Pete began to back out the door, and then she shouted, What the fuck are you doing? With that, she tore the needle-tube thing off her arm, and the static cut out. There was blood running down her arm, mixed with this strange yellowish fluid. Pete bolted up the stairs, and the woman started walking towards me.

This is private, she shouted, pointing a bloody finger at me. I got my senses back quick at that and rushed up the stairs Signature be damned I'm a big guy physically but I was freaked out and I'm not ashamed to admit it I wasn't afraid of her so much

as I was afraid of the whole situation combined together if you catch my drift Behind me I heard the door slam and her roaring from the other side Get the fuck out of my house I was happy to oblige and quickly swung the front of

door shut on my way to the truck. I jumped inside where Pete was waiting for me, fear in his eyes. I shakily got the keys out of my jacket pocket and started the engine. Let's get that out of here, I said. Pete didn't reply, and I drove us down that narrow gravel drive as fast as I could. The tree branches bouncing noisely off the roof. I clipped the pier of the gate on the way out onto the road, but I didn't care. and the boss could just dock it off my pay.

We didn't say anything for quite a while on the way back. Eventually, Pete said, What was that? I don't know, but I don't even want to think about it. I replied in a shaky voice. Neither do I, Pete said. Well, he must have formed a silent agreement because we never mentioned it again

on the rest of the drive back to the store, or even after that. I never even told my wife I mean who would have believed us anyway it all sounds so crazy at home base we led on to the boss

that it was just another normal delivery I told him that I dented the bumper on the gate because it was such a tight turn which was partly true he told me not to worry about it and thanked us for doing the job as I said he's a decent enough fellow Pete did a few more jobs with me after that

but eventually quit much to his dad's disappointment. I don't blame him. If I was a young lad, I would have too. But I need this job. Last I heard, he left town to go to college full-time. Hope it works out for him. I got paired up with an old hippie guy in his 60s.

We've got more in common, so, well, there's that. And I still do the odd late-night delivery, but not as much. I had a stern talk with the boss about cutting back on those shifts, I wanted to spend more time with my wife. I do have questions, of course. Like, what the hell was that machine thing? What was that woman with her black and pink striped jumper doing with it? What was that little girl's voice?

But, well, what I said to Pete that night still holds true. I don't want to think about it. At least, not too much. Still, though, when I do make that odd late-night run, that experience always plays at the back of my mind. Writing this down and getting my story out there is kind of like closure for me. I just want to put the whole experience behind me. Oh, one more thing.

Pete, not his real name, went missing in mid-August. At first we thought he bailed on college. My boss still thinks that, but I'm not so sure anymore. I think he's dead. Some of his friends on social media think it might have been suicide. If so, maybe what we saw that night had a greater effect on him than I'd originally thought. Also, my missus told me something that got me rattled last night. I don't know how we got to it, but she brought up an incident with a woman who called to the house around that time who was looking for me.

Said it had to do with insurance or something. I pressed my wife for a description of some sort, and be sometimes. Besides telling me she was wearing a smart suit, the woman was very sickly looking with dark hair and strange eyes. I had to suppress my shop and told her I had no idea who it was. Anyway, my wife had completely forgotten about the whole thing because our life was a little chaotic. We were helping with search parties for Pete and it had slipped her mind. If it was that same woman, she had something to do with Pete's disappearance, then I'll be honest. I'm starting to freak here

I'm thinking I should go to the cops but I'm afraid they'll laugh in my face plus that woman hasn't been seen around since so what could they charge her with for now I'm just going to play it cool and carry on hopefully Pete shows up one way or another and maybe that woman calling was a coincidence

I never knew what she worked at maybe she was a daughter to her insurance person or something Maybe I'm just thinking too much about all this. When I was in college, I got a great job delivering furniture for this well-established mom-and-pop operation. This was the late 90s. So, there was no background check, no drug test, or anything like that. My dorm mate, Daniel, had gotten a job there with me the same day, so it was pretty rad.

I'm not a very private person. But I think everyone has some inherent amount of nosiness about them. Delivering furniture to people includes the bizarre social contracts wherein complete strangers ask other complete strangers to come into their home. I remember, after my very first day of work, being astounded by just how much crazy I had witnessed. And the creepiest part is that it wasn't some big guy or some size-jews. Oh Freak. It was a little old lady. So my first delivery was a very expensive, very heavy bedroom set.

A chest of drawers, a dresser with a big mirror and top set, and two nightstands. We got everything loaded on the truck and made sure we had the address and owner's name. Ms Nettie Carroll And we headed out My college was in an area that consisted of three to four mid-sized cities Surrounded by many smaller rural towns This delivery was going to a town I'd heard of But had never visited This was before any of us had access to Google Maps

So we grabbed the map out of the glove box And hit the road We left the city and started getting into the more rural area. Lots of trailers, lots of dilapidated older homes, extreme poverty on the outskirts. We finally reached the address for the county road where the house was located and saw that it was, apparently, at the end of a very long driveway. It was around noon in the middle of the Alabama summer, so it was oppressively hot outside. When we reached the bend at the end of the driveway, we saw that. Inexplicably,

there was a gorgeous Victorian-style home. My co-worker said, well, this doesn't belong here. I approached the house and knocked on the door. I waited. Nothing. I knocked again and gave it a 30-count before realizing that there was an old school metal door knocker, you know the kind with the metal plate and ring that you lift and then bang against the frame. Eventually, I heard the door's lock disengage. And there stood a little old lady, probably about five feet tall, a perfect little puffball of white hair on her head, wearing a blue and yellow floral print dress. I didn't say anything at first because I was literally unable to comprehend what I was seeing on her face. She had on gobs and gobs of pasty peach-coloured makeup, bright red lipstick and blue eye shadow. It was

literally caked on. It looked as though she'd used upwards strokes on her eye shadow because it gave her face an expression of perpetual surprise. I would later in the day describe to my drinking buddies in my dorm as it looked like she put that shit on with a shotgun. And my God, the perfume. She had on so much that standing away from her doorway about three or four feet, I could taste it. In fact, it, in some of the same, smaller doses it might have smelled like green apples but the volume that she'd chosen to wear gave it a poisonous smell not unlike insecticide eventually I was able to say something along the lines of um I'm here to deliver your bedroom set I found I was able to carry on if I

pretended to have something very important to look at on my delivery sheet instead of looking at the lady now I'm a big guy six one and around 235 pounds. I played football in school, grew up rough, and so on. But this little old woman terrified the living shit out of me. And shit was about to get much, much weirder. She welcomed us. Daniel, I found, had come up to the house and was looking at the little old lady

with a look of absolute astonishment. And she opened the door to an immaculately decorated ante room with a thick, red and gold oriental rug. There were exposed beams on the ceiling, beautiful, old brass fixtures, the whole nine yards. She said, Y'all can come right through here and then wind around the sitting room there

and just bring it all back to the middle. main bedroom. The whole time she was very flirty, very coquettish. Daniel and I went into the back of the delivery truck and exchanged what the fucks. And did you see before trying to get our shit together long enough to load the dresser on the dolly. We got back to the front porch and found the door was standing open. So we eased the dresser through the front door and waited in the sitting room with the dresser on the dolly. As we stood there, it dawned on me

that I had anticipated coming into the house and cooling off, but it was just as hot inside the house as it was outside, around 90 degrees Fahrenheit. Daniel was whispering around the edge of the dresser.

Man, this is jacked up. This poor old woman is fucking crazy. When I whispered back, Do you hear that? He stopped, half cocked his head to the side, and then said, No. What is it?

I said, really? Listen. Sounds like a xylophone. You don't hear that. Fed up with me. Daniel said, dude what the fuck are you even... Wait, I do hear it.

About that time, Ms. Carroll came back into the front of the house and said, All right, I've gotten everything moved about for you, strab and gentleman, which he followed up with this creepy, girlish giggle. We followed her through the sitting room with the dresser on the dolly, carefully dodging all manner of expensive-looking heirloom furniture. and knick-knock. As he backed down the hall, Daniel leaned around the dresser again and whispered, Getting louder! I realized he was right, and it was definitely a xylophone. We stopped outside a massive bedroom with similarly expensive-looking decor and set the dresser up on end. I was looking at the

doorframe, considering how best to get the dresser into the room. When it dawned on me why I recognize the music coming down the hallway. Here, in the house of this creepy little old lady who lived in a million dollar home, out in the woods with no air conditioning. I was hearing the unmistakable hook from the song Girls by the Beastie Boys. What the actual fuck? For some reason, this actually broke the hair on the back of your neck feeling I'd had since arriving and I had to chuckle but that was to be a short-lived break Ms. Carroll squeezed past us

and back up the hall with a ooh, tied squeeze and Daniel and I had a good laugh while we were getting the dresser moved into the room and up against the wall when we finished moving it we fastened the mirror onto the top and went back to the truck

to Ms. Carroll I said so is the rest of this going into the same bedroom to which she replied no the two nightstands and the chest of drawers would be going down the hall I resisted the urge to say you mean the Beastie Boys room

and Daniel and I went to the truck we loaded the chest of drawers on the big dolly and the two nightstands on the smaller one then went back inside once we got to the end of the hall I noticed that the other bedroom door was open and Ms. Carroll was standing in the hallway she cooed

right this way boys all of that is going in here I was pushing the smaller dolly with the two nightstands, so I rounded the corner first and realized two things almost immediately. Number one, my name that tune skills are right on. And number two, hey, so there's a mostly naked girl laying across the bed. No, really. The girl looked to be in her mid to late twenties and she was laying perpendicular across the bed in a bikini,

sound asleep. True to form, girls by the Beastie Boys was blaring from her CD player. I realised we'd been hearing it for over an hour and that it had to have been playing on repeat. Ms. Carroll finally seemed to notice the girl, and said, Misty, cover yourself. Then she looked at me

with that fantastically horrifying makeup on her face and winked. At some point I realized that I was rushing as fast as I could to get out of there and Daniel seemed to be doing the same. We got the chest of drawers

put together in record time, all the while sweating like crazy because there was no air-conditioning at all. As we were finishing, Misty apparently had enough. She sat up, eyes closed, and yelled, I'm trying to fucking sleep. I told you I didn't even want that shit in here, Netty. Not grandmama, not granny, not more, but Nettie. Misty, still with her eyes closed. rolled over and went soundly to sleep. This sent Nettie into a rage.

She starts yelling in this shrill, high-pitched scream. You can get out of my house, you filthy cuck sucker! And on and on and on. Horrible, horrible name-calling, accusations and the like. Just a complete one. 180 from the sweet little old Southern lady with a scary makeup into this foul-mouthed, shrieking monster. At some point, I'd backed her all away against the far wall of the room, and I found myself with nowhere left to go.

Just when I thought things were about to go to psycho overdrive, Daniel calmly and politely chimes in. where would you like this nightstand? Without taking a breath, Ms. Carroll replied, Oh, right over there on the far side of the bed, if you don't mind. Thank you. We quickly had to sign the paperwork and high-tailed it out of there. As I was going back out of the front drive, Daniel said, Hit it, dude.

I swear to God, leather face is going to come. busting out of that front door any minute now. I want to begin by saying that I've been an over-the-road trucker for the past two years now. Ever since I was 21, and I honestly love what I do, even if it's for ungrateful people. But during the past two years, I've seen some unnatural things on the road, things that have some, well, things that have no real explanation. Some feel evil, others just odd. I'll begin with the one that most people who are or who have family in an industry have experienced or at least have heard of, the black dog. I won't go into too much detail, but every commercial driver has to follow hours of service

regulations stating you can drive no more than 11 hours a day and you can't be on duty more than 14. If either are met, it requires a 10-hour rest break. the black dog is caused by your brain forcing a shutdown because of fatigue while you're driving. It happens so quickly. You fall asleep with your eyes open, blending reality and the dream state causing hallucinations. The old wives tale states that if you see the black dog, well, it's time to get some rest. Some say the dog is there to protect people from getting into accidents, sort of like a guardian angel. But after this experience,

I think there's more to it than everything previously stated. Six months in, as an over-the-road driver, I had a delivery to make in Tonawanda, New York, and was coming up through Pennsylvania on one of the state routes. It was right around 10pm, and I still had about three hours left to drive. Now, I can't stress this part enough. I wasn't even remotely tired.

I came around a winding set of curves on this route through the forest. I came around a blind left curve, and there I saw it. A black dog, come darting out into the road. I was travelling at 50 miles an hour, with 42,900 pounds in the trailer. There was no way I could stop in time. I stabbed into the brakes, and then I felt the thud. Yes, I felt the truck hit this dog. There's no way.

it would survive being hit by 76,000 pounds at 50 miles an hour. When I finally came to a stop, about 400 feet later, I pulled off as far to the ride as I could and turned on my four ways. I stepped down out of the truck, I walked around to the front. No damage, no blood, no scratches, no anything. I walked all the way back to where I'd hit the dog. No blood, no mangled mess of bone, infer. There was nothing. I went back and grabbed my flashlight out of the truck and started

heading to where I'd hit it to look around. If it was someone's dog, they had a right to know what had happened. I searched for this dog for 30 minutes and found nothing. I was completely confused, but I gave up the search and turned to walk back to my truck. As I turned, I got chills down my spine. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and I broke out in a cold sweat. The dog was sitting just below my driver's side mirror. Staring at me, I could only see it because of the amber marker light on the side of my trunk. I decided to shine my flashlight on the dog, but as soon as the beam of light hit it, it just vanished, gone.

My gut told me it was time to get it. out of Dodge. I ran back to my truck, climbed inside, locked the doors, released my brakes, and booked it down the road for the next five miles. I swear, I kept seeing this black dog on the side of the road, just staring back up at me. Something didn't feel right about it at all. It was always staring at me, always expressionless. It didn't do anything but sit there. But it would disappear, and then I'd see it again. A fear I've never felt before started creeping up on me. I was legitimately scared at that point.

I didn't know what to do. There was nowhere with enough space for a 73-foot combination vehicle to turn around. This delivery needed to happen. So, as they say, I kept on trucking. Fifteen miles later, weird things started to happen. My interior lights would turn themselves off and on. My headlights would flicker erratically. I began to lose air pressure from my brakes, which is not good.

If your air pressure drops below 20 to 40 PSI, there's not enough air pressure to keep the springs held back from applying both the truck and trailer brakes full force. I got down to 60 PSI. The low air warning light came on. And I pulled over to the side of the road, applied my brakes and four ways, and got out to check what was making me lose air pressure. All of my airlines were severed. It looked as if they were bitten, clean in half. The airlines on big trucks are designed to withstand 150 PSI of outward pressure, and something just bit them in half like it was nothing.

I'd notified dispatcher of the breakdown, put out my reflective triangles, and waited. An hour had passed, and I didn't see a damn thing. Another 18-wheeler was coming up in my wrist, so I switched on my CB into Channel 19, which is the common channel, and radioed to keep to the left, as there was a very small shoulder, and I was about halfway into the lane of travel. He radioed back. Ten-four. Thanks for the heads-up driver. Everything all right? So, I radio back.

Yeah, airlines are busted, waiting on the record to get here. He didn't respond after that. He came past me without slowing down, easily doing 60 in a 45 zone. I watched him follow the curve to the left. Then, brake lights. I heard the screeching of tires and watched as he swerved off the road

and into a pine tree. I climbed out of my truck and ran over to him. The truck was smashed in and a branch was pierced through the windshield. I quickly opened up the driver door, and there I saw it. The branch had impaled him through the shoulder, just above the armpit. Blood was leaking out of the area, but the branch was acting like a plug almost, preventing excessive blood loss.

The driver was unconscious. I immediately called 911, gave them the state route and mile marker of the accident, the nature of his wounds. notified EMS and the state police right away. Twenty minutes later they arrived. They had to use a saw to cut the branch, both in front and behind the driver. They had to carry him down from the truck to the gurney. He finally came to. He started crying, not out of pain, but remorse. The only thing he kept saying was, did I hit her? Did I hit that poor girl? I was taken and aback by shock. The last house I'd passed was three miles away, and there were no houses

inside of this stretch of the road. The ambulance rushed him off to the hospital. The police notified the towing company to come and get his truck, and called his company to inform them. I gave the state police my witness statement, and shortly after, the wrecker for my truck arrived, along with a relay driver to finish my delivery. The towman took a look at my head. The towman took a look at my airlines. All he said was, you saw it, didn't you? The dog, you saw it. Shaken, I replied. Yes. All I got back was, it saved your life, kid. Remember that. We got the truck hooked up, and I was on my way, having it towed to a dealership about 30 miles away. That was the last time I ever saw the black dog.

Well, so far, at least. I don't know what it is, what it wants. Why it chooses who it does. All I know is that it saved my life. So, if in your travels you ever see the black dog, pull over immediately. I have plenty more stories to tell. But I don't know if people want to hear them.

Let me know and I'll try to get more written down. Oh, and after doing some research, the nearest houses to where this took place. Well, there aren't any family homes. No children whatsoever. This is an actual encounter with Bigfoot, and I believe it's worth sharing. So I'm fishing down at Kodogan. It's on the Al-Hagany River in western Pennsylvania, so I parked out at the top of the ramp going down to the river. Not a boat ram, just one for backing four-wheel drives down to the water.

I go up and it's getting to be just about twilight. When I can hear something coming down the hillside across from us. Well, it's steep, but not too steep. Anyway, I hear it barreling down the hillside, but the brush is thick and really high, but a part of 12 feet. Now I'm waiting for a black bear to hop on to the road, but it doesn't.

It just stops in the middle of the last brush right beside the road. Well, still thinking it was a bear, I go ushering my friend and his four-year-old daughter back down to the river. There's a bunch of rocks there from baseball to basketball size, so they can defend themselves. I'm still up at my car because I'm less than five feet from my door, and this brush is a good thirty feet away, so I know I can make it to my car and distract it with my horn and engine. Yet, it never leaves the brush, just shakes it violently. I stand there for about five minutes, and I can see it make its way up the hill. I didn't realize, but it was pushing the trees around it, about 20 feet tall.

I'm sure I wasn't connecting anything because of my adrenaline. I hadn't even seen it. It was too dark by that point. So I walked back down to the river, and we're gathering up our stuff. and this is getting way too creepy. Start packing up, and I can hear a knocking coming from the hillside. I see a group of people downriver from us, but they aren't near any trees, and actually on an outcrop in about 20 feet away from the tree line.

This knocking is above us and slightly upriver. Even they reacted to it, looking around and whatnot. I yelled to them about it possibly being a bear. I said they'd heard something coming down the hillside and seen my buddy running towards the water They thanked us for the heads up As soon as they thanked us A rock came flying off the hillside in between us and them

I actually saw the rock hit the water I jumped as I did We weren't really expecting it Turn around to see if my friend was up on the hill He was messing with us And as I turned So he was just a few feet behind me holding his daughter and both were as white as a ghost and none of us were expecting that i decided to reach

down and grab a rock carried it with me just in case it got real three more times we heard these rocks hitting the water and i just had enough our sight was all cleaned up and i took that as a perfect time to retaliate well not my best decision but i knew where these stones were being thrown from a damn bruce you rush up there. And so I chucked it. I knew there weren't any trees around. I figured if I threw it, it would probably just blow right through it. But it didn't. It made a sound like someone who's beating their chest. And it rolled back out towards me. I actually heard whatever I hit, get the wind knocked out of it, and it hit the hillside. It took off down the road towards the other group. Now they start screaming

And I mean a life being threatened Utter scream of terror And they start throwing whatever they could grab at it I'm just standing there bewildered And watching them scatter A few went into the water And the rest ran towards me All of a sudden someone yells

Get in the truck Now they took off in their truck And I mean they left everything Nobody grabbed a thing They just took off I'll never forget their screams. Well, I ran back up the hill and hopped into my car. My body ran up with his daughter right after they started shouting.

He was crying. I've known this man for 20 years, and I can count on one hand how many times I'd seen him cry. Stod up my car, and we high-tailed it out of there. Never saw exactly what it was, but when I put everything together later later that night. It's been five years since it happened, and he's a little bit. He absolutely refused to go back down there. Damn shame too, because it's an amazing catfish spot. I was travelling through a very rural part of Iowa, later at night, probably around 10pm.

I was doing my best to avoid interstates and US routes, because the trailer I was pulling did not have sliding tannums, and as a result my trailer axle was overweight. I didn't want to be hit with a thousand dollar fine, and an axle overweight on my CSA school. or as a result of having to pull into a way station. For those of you who don't know a lot about Iowa, it's a very flat state for the most part, and it's also home to the world's largest truck stop, the Iowa 80. I'd stop there previously to pick up a few things

and visit the trucker's museum next to it. It's a place I'd recommend anyone to visit, trucker or not. I'd left there and began my travels again, avoiding roads that were weight-restricted, or had low clearance locations. Most trailers stand 13 foot 6 inches, and any time clearance is close to that, on a bridge, it's a full parker,

mainly because in some places the roads get repaved, and they don't update clearance height notifications. I was about 30 miles away from any municipality in all directions, where my CB radio started playing various pitches of static. Usually this means someone is talking on the CB, but they're out of range. I pulled my mic off the hangar and tried to communicate. I got no response.

You know, I still kept hearing the various pitches of static. I continued driving and came upon an underpass to a road that had no clearance height notifications. I immediately pulled off to the side of the road, not wanting the top of my trailer to look like the lid of an open can of sardines. I checked my road atlas for the road I was on. no clearance restrictions and this was a brand new Atlas the bridge in front of me

looked very old not seeing anything to suggest I didn't have the clearance I slowly crept forward under the bridge I was relieved to fully clear the bridge and continue driving that relief was short-lived

I looked into my mirrors after passing under the bridge and a chill crept up my spine There was no bridge there. That's when things started getting really weird. I looked back forward and realised there were no houses, no trees, no mailboxes, no cars, or anything worth more. Just this long stretch of road.

That's when my CB began to ring out with very old time in music. It was blaring in volume, so I turned it down. I immediately pulled over again, got out. my phone, no reception. My Qualcomm had no connection. My GPS had no satellite signal. My normal radio had shut off. I tried making calls and sending messages through the Qualcomm. Calls didn't get through and messages didn't send. I had no choice but to drive this seemingly endless stretch of road. So I kept driving. After about an hour, we were a lot. After about an hour, we're I realized that nothing was changing.

The moon in the sky hadn't moved. My fuel hadn't gone down. There was still nothing but road and fields off to the sides. I continued to drive. My Qualcomm was non-functioning, and at this point I said to hell were the hours of service regulations. I drove for eight more hours, until I was so tired I couldn't drive anymore.

I decided it best to shut down and try to get some. some sleep and then it hit me the entire time i'd been out here i hadn't been hungry or thirsty nothing seemed to change at all i laid awake for a while before finally falling asleep i woke up with the rising sun i sat up and realize that things weren't right i woke up in a bed inside a room undoubtedly inside a house someone walked inside the room and said good morning sweetie breakfast is ready downstairs i felt this undying urge to call her mom so i did i told her i'd be down in a minute she was wearing a dress similar to that you'd see in the 1920s i realized everything here was wrong but i was being assimilated into this kid's life i couldn't do anything about it. Panic questions would pop up in my head, but I could never voice them. It was as if

I was in the back seat and someone else was driving. I remember crying in my head, but the tears never fell from my eyes. I lived for 70 years in that existence. In time I'd come to know my name was Edward. I graduate high school, fell in love, got married, had kids, had a student, had a stable job became a grandfather and I died. I lived every single day of that existence, always knowing it wasn't right but not being able to do anything about it for almost 26,000 days. Oh, I'd missed my family so much. In my head, I'd cried every single day, knowing I would never see my family again, The despair I felt growing every day was unimaginable. Eventually, I just stopped caring

and tried to enjoy as much of this life as I could. When my eyes closed that final time, I was awoken by a loud tapping sound. I was back in my truck, and a wave of hunger and thirst so intense hit me that it buckled me to my knees. I went to my window, and there was a state tree.

trooper requesting for me to get moving. So I started driving again and pulled over at the nearest area I could. I ate and drank like I hadn't eaten anything in years. I looked down at my phone. I had 17 missed calls, 10 from dispatch, five from my mother, and two from some random number. Four days had passed. I was asleep on the side of this road for four days. A half. A after living another life for 70 years. I refuse to go to Ira anymore. And dispatch doesn't send me there. I've never told them what happened.

I never tried to do any research on what happened, did not want to know about it. I'm now still wary of any bridge or underpass, regardless of whether it's in a populated area or not. The worst part is, to this day, I sometimes still have trouble remembering that my name isn't. Edward.

I'm a woman truck driver. My advice is to never, ever drive down a haunted road. I'm going to tell you a story. Something that happened to me a few nights ago. What happened to me almost made me want to quit my job. My name's Courtney Bradshaw. I'm a truck driver and a single mom. Spend most of my time on the road.

I sometimes even dream than I'm driving on the highway. Being a woman trucker is rough. I have to transport cargo alone at night. Going to rest stops and roadside diners can be a little nerve-wracking. I get a lot of stairs from guys. Sometimes I like the attention and other times it gets annoying. I've never been able to sit down and truly eat at a diner without being flirted with. I ate at a diner one night without being bothered.

That's because the diner was near closing time. Well, I guess it's the way I look. Most people don't believe I'm a truck driver. They see my blonde hair, my so-called pretty face, and my cute little figure, and they assume that I work at a nail salon, or I'm a flight attendant. I even think I'm a model.

I met one guy who thought I was a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader. I guess it was my southern accent and my Dallas Cowboys baseball cap that I wear all the time. My teenage son told me that men flirt with me because I look like Britney Spears. Who knows Britney Spears is old-fashioned, but it's the only way he can describe his mom's beauty. I think it's funny and cute.

My son's name is Aaron. He's named after his father. My son misses his father a lot. I can remember watching the two of them, always playing video games, or around in the backyard playing football together. Aaron Bradshaw, Sr., my husband, died from a drug overdose seven years ago.

I adored my husband, and, well, I did drugs with him. Both of us would get high on fentanyl. and other types of opioids now and then. Every day, I feel guilty because I think about how I enabled my husband. My sweetheart will be alive today if I just stopped doing drugs with him. We would both have gone to rehab together. And then it was just me going to rehab after my husband's death.

My son is like a spitting image of my husband. He has his father's good looks. He has his square jawline and his father's gorgeous ocean blue eyes. A lot of girls love my son because of his looks I love him because he's my angel Every time I look at him It's like my husband never died My son's 17 now

That means my baby is a man He's got himself a girlfriend Does that make me jealous sometimes Since I'm an overbearing mum Hell yes I'm sure you mum's out there Know what I'm talking about Especially if you have a boy who's growing up fast

He can't cradle him anymore Because he's gotten so tall and bulky He's the quarterback on his high school football team You know he'll be going away to college soon When he was little you were the only one who got his affection because you were his mother But soon he'll get married to a woman who's gonna steal all his affection away from you My son's girlfriend has already gotten started Hey, well that's the life of being a mom

Sometimes you've got to let go Oh my son still loves me because he calls me while I'm on the road sometimes from delivering a load at night and my son calls me I don't feel nervous but I love it when he calls during a lonely night drive because that's when I need his company the most two nights ago I needed my son's company more than anything I'm a refra truck driver and that's someone who operates a truck with a refrigerated load I spend most of my nights delivering fresh food and frozen goods to grocery store retailers rea truckers mostly have to do work early morning deliveries. That means you have to do a lot of late-night driving.

The good part about being a rea-truck driver is you earn more money, especially when you have to do a long haul. I love my job and my paycheck. But what happened to me two nights ago almost made me quit my job. Have you ever heard about haunted highways? I'm sure you have. Haunted highways or roads are streets are the subject of folklore or urban legends. You hear reports of ghostly apparitions, phantom hitchhikers, and phantom vehicles being seen on a haunted highway. In my case, I had a run-in with ghostly apparitions in a phantom vehicle. It was around 3.15 a.m. I was heading east on a road called Sweet Hollow. Sweet Hollow Road intersects with another row called Mount Misery. Both roads are near a town called

Melville in Long Island, New York. I enjoy driving on town roads sometimes instead of taking the highways because it's quieter. But on this night, something told me not to drive down Sweet Hollow Road. I had that voice in the back of my head that gave me a foreboding and I ignored it. Now, if you ever make it out of a dangerous situation, you look back and you think, why in the hell did I ignore that voice? So stupid. I'd heard stories about Sweet Hollow Road and Mount Misery Road being the two most haunted

roads in America. But of course, I didn't believe it. and the townspeople warned drivers not to go down Sweet Hollow or Mount Misery Road. Miss Smartassier thought the warnings were ridiculous. I laughed off those warnings and the horror stories. I should have known something was wrong when I saw no other cars on the road. It was just me and my truck that night. Three o'clock in the morning, well, I figured that's why there were no other cars on the road.

The stories I heard about Sweet Hollow Road involved accidental death. murders and suicides. I heard about a young woman who was killed by a jealous boyfriend. They said that her boyfriend threw her out of a moving car and another car struck and killed her. Well, I won't go into all the stories I heard, but it was some really dark stuff. The one tragic story that broke my heart the most

was about a group of children who died on a school bus while driving down Sweet Hollow. But I heard a lot of tragic tales and a lot of ghostly encounter stories. My first encounter with something supernatural happened when I was driving toward the Northern State Overpass Bridge on Sweet Hollow. It was dark, and I saw this mist rising from the road. My truck's headlights did the best they could,

but I still had a little trouble trying to see through this strange mist that intensified when I got closer to the bridge. When I drove under the overpass, it got darker, and the mists became thick. I made it halfway onto the bridge and that's when it started. I could see the moonlight coming in through the other side of the overpass, but I saw the moonlight reflecting off of something. It took me a second to notice that someone was standing under the overpass on the other side, and they were standing right in the middle of the road.

I slowed my truck down, I brought it to a stop about 50 feet away from the mysterious figure. A strange part is that the miss cleared, allowing me to get a better look at the figure. Also, my truck's headlights held. When I could get a better look, I saw that it was a teenage boy. I'd say that he was no older than my son. I figured that maybe he got lost or separated from his friends. Maybe he was partying a little too hard and got disoriented on his way home. In my mind, there was nothing scary about this situation.

I'm just a kid who needed help. I've always thought of myself as a brave woman. Well, I'm also a mum, so I guess you could say these motherly instincts kicked in when I saw the teenagers just standing in the road. Without thinking about it, I opened the door before climbing down out of my truck's cabin. Are you all right, honey? She needs some help. You lost. I shouted out to the boy, but he didn't answer me.

He never moved. I wanted to approach him, but... I heard that voice again telling me to stay near my truck. The boy was standing a good distance away from me. I knew I'd have to walk far from my truck before I could be face to face with him. I called out to the boy again, but he still didn't answer. He stood so perfectly still under the overpass. He looked like a statue.

Like I said before, I've always thought of myself as a brave woman, but this kind of gave me the creeps. Seeing the boy standing under the bridge like a statue isn't what made me get back in my truck It's when the lights on my truck mysteriously began flickering on and off When I looked at the boy His body vanished when my truck lights went out That's pretty much settled it for me I hurried up and got my ass back in my truck I didn't want to believe what I'd seen and I also didn't want to believe that my truck's engine had cut off on its own

I couldn't start it back up My truck was practically brand new So this worried me When I was trying to start my truck back up again I locked all my doors It only took a few minutes But I finally got my truck started When I turned the headlights on

My heart went into my mouth When I saw the boy reappear But this time there were two other boys with him I turned my headlights off and the boys disappeared. I kept thinking that maybe I was hallucinating from a lack of sleep and all my hours of late-night driving had finally caught up with me. I kept turning my headlights on and off.

Every time I'd do it, the three boys would appear under the overpass, staring back at me. But when I turned my truck's headlights off again and then turn them back on for the last time, I saw something that I know will give me nightmares for the rest of my life. I waited for a minute before turning my headlights back on. And when I did, I saw the three boys, but they weren't standing in the road this time. Their bodies were hanging from the overpass.

I watched in horrors their bodies swung from the ropes tied to the bridge. It scared me so badly that I sho off my truck's headlights while screaming. When I turned off my headlights, I thought that the horrible sight would disappear, but I still saw the boys hanging from the bridge in the dark. I closed my eyes while gripping the steering wheel, hoping I was imagining it. When I opened my eyes, they were still there, swaying back and forth. My truck's engine died again, but what made me panic was when I looked to see two boys hanging from the overpass instead of three. The third boy was on the ground, and it didn't take long to see that he was slowly dragging his feet toward my truck.

He was distant in the darkness, but I could still see him removing the rope from around his neck. I could see that he was creeping in my direction, but my eyes kept telling me not to believe what I was seeing. I had to get my truck started. I couldn't believe that I was seeing the ghost of three boys who committed suicide, and now one of them was alive edging his way toward my truck. No matter how many times I turned the key, I couldn't get my damn truck to start. The boy got close enough to where I could make out

his clothes. I saw his denim shorts and a grungy white tank top. What made me lose my breath was seeing what his body would do every time he'd take a step toward my truck. He would jerk and contort, like someone having a seizure. My truck's headlights were on and I could see the boy's face. He reminded me of my boy if he was dead. There was no life in his face. He had nothing but a dull and dark expression. His mouth hung open slightly and what scared me the most were his eyes. He had no pupils. All I could see was the whites of his eyes. His movements reminded me of a puppet on a string. It looked like I was watching an evil spirit learn how to walk using a dead teenage boy's body.

Kept turning the ignition switch, praying that God would let my truck start. I panicked when I heard the truck's doors unlock themselves. I'd lock the doors, but they would keep unlocking themselves as if they had a mind of their own. At first, I thought the mechanism that controlled my truck's automatic doors had malfunctioned. I couldn't keep the doors locked, no matter how many times I pressed the button. Now I was torn between getting my truck started and struggling to keep my doors locked. Lord knows I didn't want a ghost or whatever this thing was climbing into my truck's cabin. At one point I considered jumping out of my truck and running on foot.

But I knew it was too late to run when I saw the boy getting closer to my driver's side door. I knew screaming wouldn't save me, but... I did it anyway. I cried out to God when my truck's door opened. I grabbed the door handle and tried to pull the door shut. I couldn't believe I was playing tug-of-war with an evil spirit. I kept yelling the word stop, repeatedly. I even said, please, stop, ghost.

I guess when you're in shock, anything will come out of your mouth. Ghost kept pulling on my door and I could see his dull white eyes staring up at me through the driver's side window. It seemed like the more I would yell stop, the harder he'd pull on the door. I was pulling back on the door with both hands, but I couldn't keep the door shut. This monster tried to overpower me, and at one point he mockingly smirked up at me while yanking my door back open. He only needed one hand to pull my door open while I had to use both of mine to try and keep

it shut. I thought the devil was at my trifice side door. all I kept seeing was his dead white eyes and his sadistic smile. I couldn't. I wouldn't let him in. I had to keep my door shut. So with all my strength, I kept trying to keep it closed and I refused to let go. I had my hands glued to the door handle because I knew if I didn't keep my hands on the door,

something very, very bad would happen to me. I fought with a ghostly apparition, and I tried to eat. ignore his dull gaze. Sweat poured down my face. My bra was sticking to my breasts. I thought my heartbeats were going to fracture my chest bone. I kept telling myself that I'd wake up. I fear meter went through the roof when I looked to see the other two dead boys that were hanging from the overpass were now on the ground, also strolling toward my truck. Now I had three dead boys to deal with. the others were walking faster than the first boy and they still had the ropes around their necks

one boy had a broken neck I could tell by the way his head touched his shoulder the other teenage boy walked with his shoulders slumped over and his legs convulsed and twisted every time he took a step which made him look like a breakdancing monster dealing with one ghost was bad enough I could barely handle one and I knew that I wouldn't be able to handle all

three of them. Death was on the horizon for me. I kept thinking that maybe God was punishing me for doing drugs with my husband and enabling him to become an addict. God was going to let me die at the hands of these three ghostly apparitions. The other two ghostly boys wasted no time shortening the distance between themselves and my truck. They were closer now when I could see my death arising with every step they took.

I kept begging myself to wake up, but I couldn't escape from the dead boys. They wanted me. I kept remembering the horror stories of people getting killed by something supernatural. These were the stories I hadn't believed were true until now. I believed in the paranormal that night, but I knew my belief in the paranormal would not save me. No, I needed a miracle. Some kind of divine intervention, prayed to God asking him to help me. I'd never seen ghost before, and it made me question my reality. My arms were getting tired from trying to hold onto the door, and I was about to accept my fate until something happened. My phone started ringing. I looked around at my phone, which was sitting on top of my purse. I knew it was my son calling me.

when I turned back around the boy at my door had vanished the other two boys had disappeared to my truck even started back up on its own when I locked the doors they didn't unlock themselves I didn't know what to do next I didn't know whether to drive or answer my phone

I planned to do both I wanted to get the hell away from that bridge Do you know how it feels when the muscles in your body luck up after you've had a traumatic experience? Well, that's what happened to me for a minute. For about a minute or so, I just sat there, holding my ringing phone like a moron. That voice in my head yelled at me, told me to get moving because something else was coming. To make it easy on myself, I answered my phone and I put my son on the speaker so I wouldn't have to hold it. I shifted my truck into gear and got the hell off of that bridge.

It felt so good to hear my son's voice, and I could hear his rap music playing in the background. It also felt good to feel my truck moving again. When I finally drove out the overpass, I looked into the side mirror, and I saw the boys again hanging from the bridge. I quickly turned my eyes away. I kept both my hands on the steering wheel, and my eyes locked. locked on the road. My son could hear the fear in my voice. He asked me what was wrong and I lied to him and told him I was just tired. I couldn't tell him what had happened to me. I didn't want him to think his mom was a lunatic. There was a strong temptation inside of me though. I wanted to tell him but I thought it would be better to wait and tell him while we were together. Maybe he believed me if I told him over the dinner table instead of telling him over the phone. but I couldn't figure out how the hell to tell him what I'd seen how would I explain it to him

hi baby how was school oh yeah by the way your mom got attacked by ghosts while she was driving a truck last night yeah that sounded credible he believed that wouldn't he sure he would he'd never suspect that his mom might be mentally ill but my god I couldn't drive my truck fast enough I wanted to get off sweet hollow roads There were no street lights, no traffic lights, no cars. There was nothing but fog in a long, dark, narrow road that seemed to go on forever.

Tree branches hung over the road like giant claws with leaves on them. I kept talking to my son. His voice was my therapy. I love listening to him, tell me his dreams of becoming an NFL star, and that he planned to buy his mom a new house and a nice car. Listening to my son's dreams, calm my nerves. Talking to my son made me forget that I was driving down a haunted road. After a while I even forgot about the three ghost boys near the overpass.

My mind made me believe that I'd hallucinated the whole thing or that I'd fallen asleep at the wheel and had a nightmare. I didn't care if I'd had a nightmare or not. It felt so damn good to get away from that bridge. But I still had to get off, sweet hollow roads. I thought my troubles were over. The night was almost normal. I'd become relaxed again while driving and listening to my son.

Feeling the bumps in the road relaxed me. He almost got hypnotized by the moonlight's gleaming reflection off the road. When I looked over at the left side of the road, I thought I saw something else. I thought I saw a man walking, but it was too dark for me to tell. My eyes tried to make out what looked like a headless man wearing a plaid shirt, carrying an axe.

I thought that's what I saw, but my mind quickly dismissed it. My mind told me it was just illusions in the darkness. I continued talking to my son while shifting gears and forcing my truck to pick up speeds. My heartbeats went almost back to normal, but then something else happened. Sweet hollow road didn't want to let me go.

Let me tell you this, nothing quite like driving on a dark road and getting slapped in the face suddenly by flashing police lights. I saw the lights in my side mirror. and they were blinding. It seems like they'd appeared behind me. I had a stroke of relief from seeing another car on the road, even though it was a police car.

I had a crazy thought to keep going, but I couldn't do that. I knew it would be foolish to run from a police officer in a semi. My son asked me what was happening, and I told him the cop car was pulling me over. After I told him I could hear him releasing a worried sigh. I didn't want him to worry about me, so I told him everything would be okay. I told him that the police officer might give me a warning for speeding, or he might give me a ticket, which I could live with.

Did I want to pull my truck over? Hell no, I wanted to keep driving. I wanted to escape, sweet hollow roads. I hated that I had to pull over. What the hell was a police officer doing out here at three o'clock in the morning? Why would a police officer be driving down a haunted road? Then I asked myself that same question. Why the hell would I be driving down a haunted road?

driving down a road legendary for being the most haunted area in Long Island. I had a powerful urge to keep driving, but I stopped, and it was the worst mistake I ever made in my life. I was still talking to Aaron. While I was talking to my son, I looked back in my side mirror to see the police officer slowly stepping out of his car. Oh, he was a tall man, medium-billed. I saw he had a blondeish military crew cut and a goatee. Oh, he had a blondeish military crew-cutt and a gotty. It's unnerving when a police officer creeps up to your car with his hand on his gun holster. That's what this policeman was doing.

Every step he made seemed measured, almost robotic. He was kind of handsome in the face, but there was something that wasn't quite right about him. I kept feeling the relief of seeing another human being on the road. I mean, it was a police officer. When you're a woman driving alone at night and you meet a policeman, you do. feel a slight sense of security, right. It seemed like it was taking forever for the police officer to approach my truck. I told my son I'd talk to him later.

I wanted to keep talking to my baby, but this asshole police officer was ruining everything. I jumped a little when I saw the officer's big hand tapping on my window. When I rolled down the window, I got a better look at him. He had a well-defined Roman nose and a cleft in his chin. He had a chisel jawline, rugged, appearance. The only thing missing was a cowboy hat. His voice had a calming, deep airiness to it. It seemed like when he spoke to me, his voice sounded far away. It sounded like he was speaking to me from another place. His voice sounded dreamlike. He asked my license and he asked me where I was

going. He told me the reason he pulled me over was that he claimed I was driving a little too fast. I wasn't scared at first. I figured he'd just give me a warning. I definitely didn't want that ticket. When he took my license, I was calm about it. We had a nice but brief conversation. He spoke to me in an almost flotatious manner. Some things he said were a little sexist. Like, what's a beautiful lady like you driving a big old truck at night?

Well, that made a little sense, but I shrugged it off and giggled. Talking to this policeman wasn't unnerving. I kind of enjoyed talking to him. I thought it was odd that he mentioned nothing about. out sweet hollow row of being haunted. I thought about telling him what had happened to me and what I'd seen back at the overpass. But then I thought better of it.

I knew he'd probably asked me to step out of my truck so he could give me a sobriety test. Talking to the police officer went smoothly. He had a pleasant demeanor and he seemed charming and I had no problem talking to him. My problem started after I watched him turn around. After he took my license, he walked back to me. his squad car, but when he turned around, I saw something that I would never forget. From the front,

he looked normal. He looked human. It's what he looked like from the back that made my heart sink down to my stomach. There was blood all over the back of his uniform, and when I looked at his head, the back of his skull was missing. It looked like a machete had chopped off half of his skull. The normal response would have been to drive away immediately, but Miss dumbass did nothing. I just sat there, frozen. I couldn't drive away. He had my license. I'm sorry, this ghost had my license. I know what you're thinking, honey. You're probably reading my story or listening to it and thinking, I should have gotten my ass out of there. You're probably thinking, well, it gives a damn about a driver's license. Well, I wanted to drive a little. I wanted to drive a little. I wanted to drive a

but I couldn't move. Seeing the back of the police officer's head had paralysed me. All I did was sit there with my hands glued to the steering wheel. I rolled my window back up, I made sure I'd lock my doors, and I'd just sat there like a deer caught in the headlights. My mind kept telling me that what I'd seen was just an optical illusion. I wanted to believe that what I saw was an illusion.

I couldn't move and I didn't understand why. when you see a policeman with the back of his skull missing, your natural reaction is, or should be, to haul ass. I started thinking about my last ghostly encounter at the overpass. I thought about what almost happened to me, and the same thing was happening all over again. My reality sunk in, and I was about to drive away, but a knock on my window prevented me.

I waited for a minute before I rolled down my window. I saw my trucker's license been handed back to me. This might sound stupid to you, but I had to get my trucker's license back. I know I sound stupid. I couldn't stop my hand from shaking when I took my license, and I got a better look at the policeman's half-decapitated head. Every few seconds I'd blink my eyes,

hoping maybe my vision was off, but it wasn't. And I didn't sense that pleasant demean. meaner anymore. He didn't have the same smile he'd had when he'd approached my truck. Now he had a different smile, an inhuman smile. He looked like something abnormally stretched his lips across his face, and I knew I was in trouble when he asked me to step out at my truck. I felt nauseated when I could see brain, tissue and blood dripping down the back of his neck. His head was so messed up. It looked like a shotgun blast. every time he'd turned to the side

I could see how his skull stopped at where his ears were the rest of his military crew haircut vanished into a bloody black hole now when you see something abnormal or disfigured your mind tries to fix his broken skull

I zoned out for a minute and I came out of my days when he asked me to step out of my truck again this time he raised his voice slightly his voice didn't sound kind of any more. He didn't even sound like a man's voice. I mean, he still sounded a little like himself, but his voice had turned ragged. There was a rough edge that I didn't hear in his voice before. It was borderline demonic. He asked me to step out of my truck a third time, and by this time

my heart was pounding in my mouth because the dead policeman had his hand resting on his gun. He made a threatening gesture, which implied that he pull out his gun if I didn't comply. I. Me, being the idiot I am, I actually opened my door, stepped out of my truck. I didn't want him to shoot me or shoot through my truck, but, well, can I go shoot you? I didn't want to find out, so I did what he told me. When I got out of the truck, I foolishly thought his pleasant demeanor would return, but I thought wrong. before I knew it he'd pulled out his gun and he was tapping it on the side of his leg he started chuckling it was like he was mocking me for obeying

him and he had an odd body over he got close enough to me that I could smell his scent it smelled like methane it was so strong that I gagged so there I was standing outside my truck with a dead policeman staring at me

with gun in his hand I couldn't say anything I just kept thinking why the hell did I get out of the truck I realized that I'd made a big mistake but by the time I realized what I'd done it was too late I was in this dead policeman's hands now

and I'd given him the freedom to do whatever he wanted to me by getting out of my truck like a morrow as I was standing there trembling in the presence of this ghost policeman or whatever he was I kept thinking about my husband I get thinking about how I wanted to see his face.

The policeman started easing up on me and he nuzzled my backside into my truck's trailer. I didn't know what he was about to do until he told me through a whisper. He wanted me to kiss him. He told me to give him a passionate kiss. He said that if I gave him a passionate kiss, he said that if I gave him a bad kiss, he would arrest me and take me to a place where only the dead were allowed. and when he said that I knew what he meant.

I was sweating bullets. I wanted my son to call me again. I wanted to hear my phone ringing. My ringing phone wasn't going to save me the way it did back at the overpass, though. I tried to think of how to escape. While I was in mid-thought, the dead policeman nailed me in the face with his lips.

There's nothing worse than kissing the dead. You can almost smell the graveyard sense. And I could smell it on the policeman. It was a putrid, sulfuric smell, the smell of an earthy death. The smell that comes from every type of dead organism. I had a dead organism trying to force his tongue down my throat. It was wet and cold, and his lips were like ice. I wasn't ready for the kiss, and this meant I gave the dead policeman a bad kiss. I watched him slowly take his lips away from mine and he was shaking his head while giving me a disappointed stare. The next thing I remember was feeling his long icy fingers grabbing my throat.

Then I felt his revolver pressing against my chin. He whispered in my face. Gives me again. When he did, he sounded far from human. It sounded like Satan himself had whispered in my face. I looked up into his eyes. They were steel grey at first, but then they began to transform into that familiar, dull, snowy white color. I wasn't trying anything again.

No way I was kissing him, especially after I watched his eyes turn white. No, I led out a war cry and I shoved him back. I was surprised at my strength, but then I remembered I was pushing away an evil ghost or a demon. I got in my truck so fast that I ripped the back of my denim skirt. A monstrous roar shocked my ears Then I heard a few lough pops After I jumped back in my truck and slammed the door My driver's side window shattered

And that's when I knew it was gunfight Glass flew in my face and hair Covered my pink blouse I lost my baseball cap and my high-heel sandals When I started running but I didn't give a damn I was glad that I saw glass on my sleevers blouse And not blood I screamed and ducked down when I heard

more bullets entering my cabin. I could hear him shouting at me through a ghoulish voice. He kept calling me darling and that he didn't want to kill me, but he had no choice. Well, that was it. I fastened my seatbelt, shifted my truck into gear, and I floored it. It was the smartest thing I ever did. It was something I should have done in the first place. I had my truck barreling down the road. I looked at my side mirror and I saw police lights pursuing me. I tried to keep my eyes on the road, but I kept glancing down at the speedometer. Every fearful thought went through my mind. I wanted my truck to go faster, but it could only do so much.

When I looked into my right-side mirror, I could see the police car speeding up near my blind spot. I heard a few more popping sounds, and I could hear bullets ripping through my trailer. I screamed when I felt my truck jerked to the side. I knew he was ramming his police car into my trailer. I watched as he roared up beside me, and he rammed his car into my passenger door. I swerved a little, getting chased and shot at by a phantom police officer was something I wasn't prepared for. The sounds of bullets ripping through my truck's cabin forced me to duck every few seconds, and I was doing close to 80 miles an hour. My eyes kept shifting to my right side mirror.

I'd see him constantly roaring up beside me. Every time he would attempt to drive up beside me, I'd drive my truck. into his path, clipping the front of his police car. I was trapped in a cat and mouse game with a hostile ghost. When he'd swerve his police car to the right side of my truck, I'd swerve my truck in front of him, cutting him off. When he'd swerve to my left side, I'd be right there in front of him. But I didn't want him to roar up beside me again. I knew that if he kept shooting up into my cabin, a bullet would hit me eventually. I heard that voice telling me I was going to die. The voice in my head didn't sound like my voice this time.

It sounded like the voice of a demon. It sounded like the dead policeman's voice, telling me that I was going to lose control of my truck and die. I did everything I could to lock the voice out of my head. Whenever I'd come up on a curve in the road, my heart would slam into my chest. I kept seeing my truck tipping over. Panic would override me every time I'd slow down to go around a curve.

I could hear my truck's tires scream. wheeling, and the wind came rushing through my broken driver's side window, blowing my hair in my face. I could hear the trailer grinding and swaying behind me. Any wrong move and I would have been dead. No matter how hard I'd push my truck, I would look behind me and see those police lights right on my tail. I could hear his police car's engine revving up, and I could hear his tires screaming every time he'd swerve back and forth behind my truck. I had more gunshots than I knew. I had more gunshots and I knew somehow that he was trying to shoot at my tires. All I could do was swerve my truck in front of him.

I felt determined not to let some ghost policemen shoot out my tires. Weird things started happening inside my truck's cabin, but I didn't let it distract me. My interior lights flashed on and off. My dashboard lights were flickering. My radio would turn on and off. My worst fear was my truck's engine shutting off while I was moving. I was moving close to 90 miles an hour when my car. My electronics in the truck started acting up.

I thought I was going to die. I thought that the dead policeman was going to appear in my cabin. A nagging burning sensation went through my arms. I was straining the muscles in my arms from trying to steer my truck. The thought of death continued to arise in my mind and it tormented me. Sweet Hollow Road still had me as its prisoner. I almost broke down in tears when I saw nothing but an endless stretch. of dark pavement.

I get looking in my side mirrors, wanting to get away from those police lights. I did not want him to catch me. This ghost was persistent, and I could feel him reaching out to grab me. I had a bullet strike my right side mirror, and I jumped. Every worst-case scenario played itself out in my head. What if he shot my tires out? Would I still be able to steer my truck? What if he shot out my gas tank and caused my truck to explode with me?

trapped inside. What if I got burned alive? Would I die instantly? Or would I suffer? One horrible question after another flooded my mind. It seemed like it was never going to end. But then, a miracle happened. I finally saw the exit. I had to make it or I would die. The dead policeman would have me. He would have another victim. I'd be the woman truck driver who missed it. seriously disappeared on Sweet Hollow Road. Oh, the police never found her body. They only found the mangled remains of her truck. I'd be just another horror story. The ghost policeman chased me another ten minutes. It was the longest ten minutes of my life. When I finally got near the exit, the policeman and his car disappeared. There was nothing but endless darkness

behind my truck again. It was over. When I looked at my driver's side, I was over. When I looked at my driver's side window. The glass was intact. There was no shadow glass on me. There were no bullet holes in my truck, no damage whatsoever. It was like the whole thing had never happened. Yes, I know I said this already, but driving away from that policeman was something I should have done. Yeah, I'm one of those blonde hair girls and I know you're probably fitting me into a dumb blonde joke right about now. That's okay. I won't blame you. I am stupid, but at least I'm alive today to tell you my story. I am alive today because I got her, oh, sweet holler rolls.

I haven't told my son yet, but I do plan to tell him. I just hope that after telling him what happened to me, he won't try to have his mom committed to a mental hospital. I'm at lunch with my son right now. You went to the restroom and I'm sitting at this table using my phone to text my story to you. I hope you don't think I'm crazy. I know I think of myself as some blonde, dumbass single mum, but I never want to think of myself as being crazy. I know my story sounds ridiculous, but what happened to me on Sweet Hollow Road was real.

I didn't imagine it, and I want you to believe me. Everything that happened to me that night was not a dream. This isn't another fantasy ghost story I'm telling you about. No, I had a real ghostly encounter. I know some of you are going to hear my story and not believe me That's all right honey You can believe me or not But it won't stop my story from being true

I want to tell my son But I'm nervous I don't want my angel to think his mum's a psycho What do you think I should do Should I tell him what happened to me Or should I keep my crazy as paranormal experience to myself What would you do if you were me? That's the end of today's podcast

and I do so hope that you enjoyed those seven stories. If you did, I ask again, one small favor. Please leave a few kind words and a five-star review wherever it is you get your podcast from. It really does make a big difference. Now that is it for one week, but I'll be back again, same time, same place. And I do so hope you'll join me once again.

Until next time, sweet dreams and bye-bye.