Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S6 Ep318: Episode 318: Delivery Truck Horror Stories

Episode Date: February 22, 2026

Today’s first fantastic offering 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 second true tale of terror 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/rd9777Today’s third phenomenal tale of the macabre 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/HammerLane95Today’s fourth true story 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/ Today’s penultimate tale of the weird and fantastical 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/HammerLane95Tonight’s phenomenal closing tale is ‘Two Best Friends Spent the Night in a Semi Truck… They Almost Died’, an original work by Shish Macabre, kindly shared directly with me so I could narrate it here for you all. https://www.reddit.com/user/WritenFlight/

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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. Trucking can be a creepy job because it places you alone for long stretches on empty highways where the world feels distant and indifferent. At night the road narrows to whatever your headlights can catch, and everything beyond that beam becomes possibility. Abandoned buildings, unmoving silhouette, strange vehicles pacing you for miles.

Truck stops at 3 a.m. carry their own uneasy atmosphere, full of tired strangers and flickering lights. The isolation, the repetition and the vastness of the landscape can distort your sense of time and reality, making even ordinary encounters feel slightly off, as if the road itself is watching. As we shall see in tonight's collection of stories. Now, as ever before we begin, a word of caution.

Tonight's tales may contain strong language or descriptions of violence and horrific imagery. That sounds like your kind of thing. And let's begin. 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 laid 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 frustrations.

So we head back to the store and pick up a large refrigerator all packed neatly in a cardboard box, and then loaded onto the trunk. I got the location up on the phone. 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 chill before calling the wife,

letting her know to put the dinner into the microwave. So, there we are on these pitch dark back roads 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 hand. house in ages, and 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 headlines. I crawl 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. Oh, for 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 that they were the right directions and 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. He 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. And 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-hound. it, yeah, when 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 peat. 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, jogging up the road towards me.

I asked him what the frick he was doing. He points at a faint light Through the trees behind him 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 gate Sure enough it's tucked back in Behind a sharp turn Almost invisible No wonder we hadn't seen it on the way up You 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 look 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 there's a car here and the lights are on I replied So, what if there's something wrong? This place is creepy as fuck. 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 from inside. I turned to Pete and gave him all. wink saying, here we go. The door opened and a young slight woman standing in front of us. She was pale and sweaty with a 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 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, apologizing for the late call. She stared at me, confused. I showed her the docket and confirm 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 fridge up the steps. Inside, I... 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. Well, it'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 and looking jittery. Will you excuse me? she said quietly. Without waiting for an answer, she took off down the hallway. He 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 behavior before when a 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 a 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 a spot is 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 well 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 she wouldn't be that stupid to do that while we're in the house you know i was trying to do that i was trying to do that while we're in the house I was trying to rationalise that idea to myself rather than Pete. Still, I 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 basement. 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 worried. wide open. Then we heard mumbling coming from the strange woman. It sounded like she was talking to the little girl. Oh, I mouthed to peep. What the... And 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 shoulder, shaking his head. 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 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. Homeless 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 it. them, lying on the floor like still tentacles, all except one which was inserted into her own. She was in this deep, trans-like conversation with the little girl's voice coming out of the speaker. I 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 like 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 who 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. Well, I got my senses back quick at that and rushed up the stairs. Signature be damned. Now, 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 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. 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. He 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. I hope it works out for him. And 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, well, 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 than you. 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 mrs 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 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 shot 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. Maybe that woman calling was a coincidence.

I never knew what she worked at. Maybe she was a daughter-de-er 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, where in 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 side show 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 topset. 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

Finally, I heard the door's lock disengage. And there stood a little old lady, probably about five feet tall, a perfect little puff ball 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-colored makeup, bright red lipstick and blue eye shadow. It was literally caked on. It looked as though she'd used upward 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 smaller doses, it might have smiled 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 two hundred and thirty-five 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 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. cocked his head to the side, and then said, No. What is it? I said, really? Listen.

Dun, don't, dun, dun, da dun, dun, dun, dun. Sounds like a xylophone. You don't hear that. Fet up with me. Daniel said, Dude, what the fuck are you even say? 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 recognised 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, tide 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 20s, 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 and Eyes closed and yelled, I'm trying to fucking sleep. I told you I didn't even want that shit in here, Nettie. 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 alike. Just a complete 180 from the sweet little old Southern lady with a scary makeup into this foul-mouthed, shrieking monster

at some point I 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. Carol 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. Seeing 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, well, 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, well, 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. 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, 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 and fur. There was nothing. I went back and grabbed my flashlight out of the dog. 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 truck. 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 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 around. 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 wood. 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. They 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 her back. by shock. The last house I'd passed for 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 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, I'd have to do it. I'd have to

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 ramp, just one for We're backing four-wheel drives down to the water. I go up and it's getting to be just about twilight. 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 30 feet away, so I know I can make it to my car and distract it with my horn and engine. And yet, it never leaves the brush. just shakes it violently

I stand there for about five minutes 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 we're gathering up our stuff and this is getting way too creepy We 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 and about 20 feet away from the tree line. And 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. I'd 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

We actually saw the rock hit the water They jumped as I did I'm really expecting it Turn around to see if my friend was up on the hill And he was messing with us 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 expected 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'd 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 brush 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. And 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. I started 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 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 tandoms 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 score as a result of having to pull into a waste

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-timey 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, I realized that nothing was changing.

The moon in the sky hadn't moved. My fuel hadn't gone down. I 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 any more.

I decided it best to shut down and try to get 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 realised 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 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 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 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, 5 from my mother, and 2 from some random number. Four days had passed.

I was asleep on the side of this road for four days, after living another life. for 70 years. I refuse to go to Iyer 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. Do best friends spend the night in a semi-truck? They almost died. I missed a sheesh macabre. Stoggy? I asked my army buddy Silo upon offering him a fresh cigar.

The two of us were chilling in the roomy cab of my 18-wheel semi-truck. We spent the last six hours that day bowling, shooting pool, go-cutting, Play a miniature golf and just driving like speed demons in his old folk Buick, with the bass on the radio turned way up. We just finished eating dinner. By that, I mean some gourmet-fashioned pork chops cooked in an air fryer inside a trucker's gas station. The damn outlet in my truck was shocked. Thank God the gas station clerk was sympathetic to our plight. Now that all the fun and food was gone, I settled down in my driver's chair, he and the passengers.

we began winding down. He said in his near perfect impression of the old classic Looney-Toon character, Yosemite Sam. This guy was a vocal genius. He could impersonate almost any cartoon character flawlessly after hearing them just once. He also loved cigars. He told me he'd been practicing on beef and pretzel sticks,

pretending to puff on them or on the occasional young pine cone as a child until he was old enough dropped great to the real thing. This guy could always make me laugh and always had my back no matter what. We first met and worked together back in 2018 in a distribution centre back in our family state in the Midwest. I had the know-how and he had the energy. In our respective short time there, we were the best duo the management had. Any job they put us on, we'd finish it, even if it was after hours and everyone else had gone home.

Best word to describe our partnership, dependable. We've been fast friends since. We've become like the brother we never had but always wanted, he thought in particular of me. Hey, uh, bring your cutter. I can't find mine, I asked him. Swaitingly. Now he was talking in his classical curly Howard voice from the three stooges. In a flash he whipped out his cigar head cutter

and proceeded to remove the head tips from both cigars. Next, he quick drawed his ever-trusty Statue of Liberty Zippo Lighter and performed the lighting ceremony. Thanks, Coca-Cola Jones, said. Anytime, Texas toast. He used a mocked southern twang as he spoke, and we both laughed. These were our preferred nicknames for one another. As we sat back enjoying the flaming Honduras rolled tobacco leaves, we talked about our respective professions.

Cilo had enlisted in the army nearly two years ago. His last job adventure nearly bankrupted him, so did the only thing available to him at the time. He walked into the nearest recruitment office and basically said, Where do I sign? I've been trucking for nearly the same time myself. When he announced his decision, I was both surprised but supported. I'd once been in the Navy in my late teens. These days I'm seriously considering becoming an Army or Navy contractor,

transporting military-specified goods and material in my own semi, at least until I've saved enough to manage a thriving trucking company of my own. Cilu had been given a four-year and some weeks changed term of enlistment, an additional four in the reserve. His duty station was Fort Bragg, North Carolina. His job required an impressive level of security clearance. He toyed back and forth for the idea of re-enlisting, but since the death of his estranged brother, he'd made up his mind.

Being the only surviving male child, he'd return back to our homestead and take care of his elderly parents for the remainder of their lives. And after that, he'd agreed to come live down south with me in the future home that my own brother was preparing. I never saw much for each other those days for obvious reasons. A life of a full-time truck and full-time soldier are very chaotic and unpredictable. But whenever I was in his general area, would be on a 36-hour reset, He'd have the weekend off with no extra duties or prepping for a field exercise. We'd arrange for a meet-up. We'd always had to cram whatever fun activities we could into our limited time off.

Thankfully, we had simple, economic tastes. We have quite the bucket list to start checking off once he retires from the service and I have my own business. I hope Cola Jones becomes my right-hound man in that endeavor. Well, time will tell. Some dipship of brains cut me off today. They saw me signaling to get over into the right lane to make the next exit. What do they do? Step on the gas and fly past me nearly causing me to lose controls.

I have to swerve the wheel enough so I don't crash. Lay down on the hall and flip the prick up. One or both of us could have been killed because of that. Yeah, God knows how many more in the back of you. Right. The assholes on the road all seem to be out to kill me. Not in a collision, and by giving me a heart attack from these near misses. You need me as your armed wingman.

I could unload on any of them with an M4 from the arms room. Maybe tactically acquire an M320, 40mm grenade launcher. I'll lean out the window and poof, the shit out of the bastards. Oh, please. We bumped fists and continued smoking. My phone was playing one of my current favorite country songs. That was a very important thing that we loved, country music. I'd recently started writing song lyrics, posting them online to see what lone artist or band would buy.

I've had success with one so far. Celo offered to sing the lyrics to the next one for free. He does have a good singing voice, so I told him, maybe. The sign was starting to disappear behind the tops of the trees. As it did, Cilo opened the passenger door. He said he had to drain the valve. His euphemism for taking a leak. he hopped down and walked a little ways into the tree line

the traffic flow was moderate where I'd part the truck but it was enough that he had to keep hidden while doing his business I watched him till I couldn't see his form and I went back to my music and started to sing along I found myself glued to watching the sunset within minutes the glowing orb vanished and a few minutes later Silo returned and he had a perplexed look on his face.

Yeah, what up, bro. I bet my bimonthly paste of, I heard what sounded like a low-tone chittering noise. It was really eerie. Then I caught a whiff of what smelled like sulfur, I think. As quickly as they came, they were gone. Interesting. Your brain screwed with you before.

I made believe in you hearing noises or distorting real ones. My brain only distorts noises made from human beings, not of nature. Oh, I'm well aware of that, too. Next time it'll be your turn. And when the sound and smell are invading every orifice of your body, you'll be so overwhelmed, you'll collapse unconscious. I won't be the one to drag you back up in here. Early finished with a comedic, mm-hmm.

That made me laugh hard enough to make the tears well up in my eyes. Everybody, including me, thinks he should at least be a part-time stand-up comedian. He said he's keeping all his options open for voice acting, stand-up, all the ablignation, stuntman and so on. I think he'd be terrific at all of them. After we finished our cigars, we got ready for bed. Cielo hopped up on the upper partner's driver's bunk and I crawled into the lower one. He didn't bother waiting for me to put down the ladder for him, so he nearly missed the mattress and fell backwards onto the floor. Besides being insanely energetic, it's almost one of the most wiry, flexible people I knew.

He corrected himself in a second and succeeded on the next attempt. Good night, Coca-Cola Jones. Night, Texas toast. I laughed again and switched off the lights. Within a minute, we too were off to Dreamland. After all his time in the army, Celo could fall asleep with a drop of a hat virtually anywhere. All those cold nights having to sleep out on the hard frost covered ground

on numerous field exercises made him able to drop off of Dreamland. within minutes. With being forced to wake up at any moment for some tactical maneuver, he was a very light sleeper too. Any sudden noise or vibration, even a strange aroma could bring him back to reality immediately. So when his nose caught a whiff of some potent faint aroma, he was wide awake. Lost in confusion as to what the smell was and where it was coming from. Then his memory kicked him.

He recalled his experience in the woods just a few hours before. He said in a hushed voice to his trucker brother down below. The only response he got is his friend's low, deep snores. He slowly lowered himself down to the floor and reached for what he hoped was my shoulder. Before he touched me though, he heard it. But same inhuman chittering sound. Just like before, but it sounded much closer then. As he peeled his ears to listen better.

he realized that all the usual light noises he'd heard even before the sunset were gone. Not even a frog was talking there. This realization chilled him to the very core. Something was very, very wrong here. Hey, Tex, wake up, man, wake up. Ciloh shook my shoulder and till at last I woke up. Frogly, I turned over to face him. What the hell, man?

Be quiet. Take a whiff and listen. heartily confused but sensing the strange urgency in my friend's voice, I did what I was told. Then I understood. The noise coming from outside the truck was unlike anything I'd heard before. Let me think of someone wearing ice skates and shuffling on the surface of the ice. The blades would make a sh-sh-sh sound. This was sped up dramatically.

Then the smell hit me like a brick wall. Well, it was sulfur. all right. Felt my stomach lurch, I had to suppress a gag. Seela was holding his nose. I told you, didn't I? Yeah, sorry I doubted you. What the fuck is that? Ciloh turned to face the front of the cab. Slowly approached the dash. Gosh, she looked out the windshield. Moon was covered by a thick cloud cover, so his visibility was greatly limited. Contumns was. Contumable. pleaded grabbing his key flashlight, but I thought now wasn't the time. He then looked out of the passenger window and scanned the wood line.

He'd just make out the shapes between the trees. You couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. Don't see anything, he whispered. I was just about to say something, but stop before the words even crossed my lips. The chittering was closer now. So close, in fact, I could feel it in my gut, not just in my head. See those eyes grew extra wide now. It's clear he felt it too.

The only other sound resonating inside the cab was the blood pausing madly in our temples. Then a new sound. But this was a familiar one. The oncoming sound of a semi. It was coming from the rear of the truck's large empty trailer. Then we could see the approaching glow of the thing's headlights. On it came until it slowly passed our cab and poured into the car. empty lot right in front.

This one had no trailer, just the engine. He stopped a good 40 or so feet in front of us. The engine roared in park and then shut off. I'd finally got up from my bunk and stooped shoulder to shoulder with seal. We said nothing. Just stared and waited. A few minutes more, the driver stepped out of the cab. I was an older guy with glasses, possibly mid-50s.

He was clean-shaven, and one. on a brown parker that he had zipped up. He had blue jeans on and white sneakers. Removing his baseball hat to scratch his boarding head, then put it back on. Reached into his pocket. He bought out a pack of cigarettes and lit one. After returning the pack, he walked around the front of his truck.

Disappeared from view. How does he not hear or smell that shit? Celo asked, flabbergasted. Wait, wait a minute. I think the noise and stench are gone. Zelo paused. Sure enough, I was right. Chittering and sulfuric smell were simply gone, as if they'd never been there. We looked at each other. We both must be losing our shit out here tonight, Ciloh said in his normal voice. His face showed such relief, and I found myself chuckling. Yeah, right. We both choyed it up to some bizarre after effect from those damn Honduras cigars. possibly the pork chops as well.

I drew the cap sleeping curtain, and we both crawled back into our bunk. Well, let's try this again, shall we? Zelo joked. Right. This time I'm tuning my ears and nose to the off position. Me too. Good night, Coca-Cola, Joan. You too, brave little Texas toaster.

I laughed. We went back to sleep. Not long after, the smell and chittering were back in full force. There was also a different sound coming from outside, like a muffled scuffling. It was coming from the direction of the other trucker's vehicle. Ciloh dropped down and drew back the curtain. I was pulling my shirt up to cover my nose and mouth. The moon had returned and lit everything up magnificently.

Then we looked out of the windshield and washed in horrified shock. The other truck's cab was rocking back and forth violent. Then we could make out muffled screams of fear and gurgled cries of agony. It's continued for at least ten seconds, and then everything went silent and still. The next sound that came to our ears was a subtle ripping and squelching. Then the driver's door burst open. Something stepped out into the moonlight. God in heaven, I said.

What the fuck? Zelo responded. Our voices were crippled by near hysteria. The thing that stepped out of the new trucker's cab was neither human nor animal. It was an abomination of which nightmares were made of. The thing was completely naked. Skin was more pale than the moon above it. I had four arms that were as long as my legs.

Speaking of which, it had none, nor hips either. The thing used its extra arms as legs. Each hand was as big as a catcher's mitts and all had eight digits, all of which ended in footlong, needle-sharp claws. The rest of the body were skeletal. The ribs and clavicle were clearly visible through the skin. The head was large, so much so that it didn't seem possible that such an emaciated frame could support it.

There was no hair on its head, just like the rest of it. His skin too was stretched at the point of tearing. It had two diamond-shaped eyes that were bulging out of the sockets. They looked like two cubiles. I mean, no iris or coloration in them whatsoever. Had what may have been a nose. Just a small black hole in the center of its face. It had similar, slightly larger holes on the sides where its ear should have been.

The mouth was large, made the most hideous excuse of a smile. With its main two arms, it heaved the shredded, dismembered corpse of the driver out of the driver's side door, onto the ground in front of it. Celo and I could do nothing but watch in shaking terror as a thing positioned itself over the man and opened its jaw much like a snake. I'm down over the man's throats, reared its head back so hard that the man's, man's head came away and bounced once on the ground and rolled over twice before the agony-stricken glazed eyes would turn to look up directly, us two young men, frozen with fear inside our

truck. My stifled a gasp, Ciloh's breathing hitched in shot. The creature swallowed what was left of the man's throat, turned around, much like a spider, till it was positioned over the dead man's stomach. Snake jaw open. bit down again, tore out the entrails and all the other organs with childish glee. Celo was sure that the thing was giggling while it gorged. Once it had finished, the last of the corpse's insides, stuck out of a tongue about a yard long and began licking itself clean. What do we do? Ciloh said in a trembling voice. His whole body was trembling. Hell, so was mine. We were stuck. We couldn't start the truck.

an attempt to drive away or run the thing over without it coming for us first. Neither of us had any weapon to speak on. The seal of's Buick was parked all the way behind the trailer. The thing would be on us in an instant, surely if we attempted to make a run for it. The idea of trying to scare the thing off once the semi's massive engine roared to life seemed ridiculous. Just keep quiet, and it will go away eventually.

As soon as it's gone, we'll make a run for it. I said, with her bravery I did not feel. One will believe us if we tell them. You know that right. Yeah, man. We'll cross that bridge soon enough. Let's just stay inside. We'll wait.

After the Hellspawn had finished its tongue bath, crawled off the body and over to the head. Flung the baseball bat hat away, bent down and scooped up the head with its massive jaw. Turned its own head left and right, and finally looked right in hours. direction. Vision was blackening with panic.

Celo's heart was beating so fast, he was sure the thing would burst in his chest. It was dead, colourless, bulging white spheres stared right into our eyes. Felt more to Cilo like it was looking right through them. I was almost convinced that creature knew we were looking at it. It would come for us next. But in that instant, it scarred off into the woodland. with the speed only Arakness could afford. The sudden motion was so unexpected that we gasped on impulse.

We watched it till it disappeared into the darkness of the woods. Now's our chance. Let's get the fuck out of here, Ciloh said, desperation evident in his voice. Yeah, but you want to take my truck or your car? Come on, man, get it started. Okay, okay. I jumped into the driver's seat and started the engine. Sielo took out his gurburber and readied the small knife blade.

He also brought a small can of self-defense mace spray. He gave it to me. And lastly, he lifted up my bunk and rummaged around underneath, so he found what he was looking for. A foot and a half-long rounded rubber baton. It was what I used to check the truck's tire pressure. He held on to it. These things weren't much, but they were better than nothing.

Silo jumped into his own seat. The truck was almost ready. Put it into gear and nearly released the air brakes. That familiar, overpowering aroma return. He started coughing and gagging immediately. Ciloh looked out the window to try and see where it was. There was nothing there. Either through the windshield or my window.

The chittering was back too. so loud this time it was painful it was coming from what must have been the trailer no underneath it the next instant a loud thud and glass rang through the cab's interior we both looked up and saw the thing's massive clawed hands pressing hard against the driver's side window

the hideous face soon followed its cuball eyes stared at us with ravenous glee It must have been ecstatic to now have two more victims for a late-night snack. Its eyes never left our wide, terror-stricken once, now tearing up from coughing violently due to the palpable stench. His chittering was rising to the point of chaos, began lowering its left hand,

reaching for the door handle. I remember locking them. In an explosive act of desperate panic, Celo drew the rubber baton back and swung it with every four, fiber of strength into the window. Shattered on impact. Most of the glass embedded itself into the creature's face and eyes. Fell back away from the cab,

emitting a howl of pain even more loud and hideous than the chittering sound. Covered its face with two of its hands as black trickles of blood began to flow. God-awful stench was gone almost immediately. Now, Silo yelled. Without missing a beat, I released the brakes and stomped on the gas pedal. The truck lunged forward. Thank God the trailer was empty. Tires caught traction.

Then we were zooming down the dark two-lane road as fast as a given semi-court while hauling an empty trailer. Zelo, careful to avoid the remaining broken window, looked out behind to see if it was following us. It's all just the trailer and the road falling behind. see it. I think we're clear now. Before I could reply, clawed hand thrust itself through the broken glass and began swiping the air. Ciloh narrowly avoided the demonic talons by panic jumping right into me. This action caused me to swerve too hard to the left. Truck narrowly lost control and would have been tipped over had I been a less experienced driver. Thankfully I was a veteran of the trucking world by this point. I auto-corrected just in

the truck continued to stay upright on the road. Fortunately, the beast was still there. It had pulled itself up and now thrust its huge head inside the cab. I hollered to Silo. Cilo immediately moved aside. Take this, fucker, they screamed. I pointed the mace spray and the thing's cut and bleeding face shot five streams of mace at it. While the beast went berserk with fresh burning agony.

The squeals of pain were even worse than those of slaughtered pigs. It withdrew its head from the passenger window frame to again hold its face with one of its hands. The squirrels rose to a pitch that made our ears ring. Going half crazy from the noise and enraged terror, Celo lunged forward and jammed the gurb and knife all the way into the thing's grotesque hand while still gripping the window frame. The thing let go. It fell onto the road, taking the multi-tool with it.

We felt a slight bump from the trailer's back tires. It was followed by a soft, crunching noise. Is it dead? I asked, not slowing down for a moment. Ciel looked out the window once more. On the road he was sure he saw the pulverized mess of the creature. A large pool of coal-colored blood formed around it. That's all, folks. Whenever Coca-Gullo Jones quotes Porky Pig,

I know the world is safe once more. It's been six years since that night. We're still as close as ever, I think even closer. After all, had either of us been by ourselves out there, that thing would have eaten us. We saved each other that night. Well, his term of enlistment ended two years ago. He's moved in with his parents to give them the proper care they need.

He does occasional stand up, a bit of novel narration and voice acting. dabbling in everything right now. His full-time job that pays the bills is as a custodian at the local hospital. He is content with his simplistic life. The army had taught him anything. To make the most of any circumstance. I've started building my business in earnest now.

I've assured him I could always find a place for his energetic comedic genius in this venture. He's most grateful for that. We still see each other whenever he's passing through. We do much of the same. same stuff we've always loved doing together. There's one thing that we'll never do again. Neither when we're together or by ourselves. I will never sleep overnight in a truck or car near the woods ever again. We know I finished that thing off with my truck. We never heard any reports about his body being found. We did hear of the old man though. Evidently a state trooper was passing

by where we'd parked that night and saw the carnage. They didn't go into details as to the state the body was found in naturally. His name was Walter Pendle, a fellow native of our state. He was survived by a wife of 25 years, three kids and their grandkids. Reports say he was going to retire in just another three years. We never told anybody what really happened that night for obvious reasons. We never even talk about it with each other. Just want it all to go away.

The image of that thing Oh it sounds, its smell are all seared into our memories This will haunt us forever I still feel occasional guilt about what happened to Walter Sure my friend does too How could we have known Wonder if his head was ever found Sure that Hellspawn had a collection from past victims

The forearmed creeper was the name We've attached to that monster Here's what the two hours know for sure about it It hunts at night Uses the chittering sound And the sulfuric smell to incapacitate its prey And takes sadistic pleasure in the kill Here's what we don't know

And hope we never find out Was there a media cover-up regarding the beast's discovery Or did something else come along and clean up the mess Another like it Or something works And so once again we reach the end of tonight's podcast. My thanks as always to the authors of those wonderful stories

and to you for taking the time to listen. Now, I'd ask one small favor of you. Wherever you get your podcast from, please write a few nice words and leave a five-star review as it really helps the podcast. That's it for this week, but I'll be back again same time, same place,

and I do so hope you'll join me once more. Until next time, sweet dreams and bye-bye.