Full Body Chills - I Took A Drive Through The Woods...

Episode Date: October 31, 2019

I took a drive the put me in the path of a killerI Took A Drive Through The Woods That Ended Some Place Strangeby: Matt RichardsenYou can read the original story at FullBodyChillsPodcast.comThis episode is brought to you by Simplisafe, to learn more check out simplisafe.com/fbc Looking for more chills? Follow Full Body Chills on Instagram @fullbodychillspod. Full Body Chills is an audiochuck production. Instagram: @audiochuckTwitter: @audiochuckFacebook: /audiochuckllcTikTok: @audiochuck

Hi listeners, this is Ashley Flowers, and I want to tell you a story about a drive that I took through the woods that ended someplace strange. So gather around and listen close. My father died on a Tuesday afternoon. It was a heart attack. My mother called with the news that evening. I lived about 10 hours away. I was at university at the time, and I promised her I wouldn't do it. She even told me then that the trip could be dangerous. But immediately after my mother hung up the phone, I hopped in my car, pulled down the windows of my old Jeep Wrangler, and started the 10-hour drive home. The trip took me through the dark,

lonely roads of Pennsylvania in the middle of the night. I didn't plan it well. I left at 10. A massive storm overtook most of the Northeast by 1030. Ice-cold rain blackened the highways. Yellow-jacketed police officers directed traffic through incoming lanes and outgoing floods. The traffic alone on the local roads added another hour to my timeline. And the darkness and lack of proper lighting probably tacked on another hour towards the end. I barely knew where I was going. I never drove this far before. Panic was creeping in like a leech at the back of my brain.

And self-doubt pushed that little bug further and further. But the old-fashioned Garmin GPS on my dusty dashboard pointed me toward home, and I had to. I had to trust it to do the rest. I cursed through every red light and lane change. I sung along to Spotify to relieve some angst. I was tapping on the wheel like a drummer, all while trying to keep my growing anxiety at bay. And then finally, mercifully, after that miserable, unbearable first hour, the traffic split. The road split and opened up to an empty highway. And then I felt free. The rain was pounding on my windshield like a battering ram all the way down the empty pine tree lined road. The windshield wipers on my Jeep were working overtime

just to keep the windows clean and I knew I shouldn't drive that fast. I knew I should slow down because it felt terrifying to be honest. My wheel slipped and skidded more than a few times but I didn't care. I didn't care about anything. The only thing that mattered to me was home. Simple as that.

I needed to see my mother. I needed to make sure that she was okay. I needed to see my brothers, who were still young and wouldn't understand what just happened. I need to see my family. I need to be with them. And as corny as this may sound, I was not going to let some godforsaken storm take that from me. Just then, a My Chemical Romance song that I was playing from a playlist agreed with me. When it rains, it pours.

I was rocking along to my favorite playlist for the first leg of the trip, but the damn cell phone just died after midnight. The lack of music left me with only the steady rain to, I don't know, think about my thoughts. I despised the prospect. I turned to the radio instead. I was somewhere in the sticks outside of Harrisburg by that point. The bad weather and lack of reception limited my options to two stations. One of them was a commercial break, so I settled for the second. I recognized the horrible drone of local radio almost immediately. Welcome back, welcome back.

This is 96 FM Radio Nowhere. We are your one-stop shop for late talk. We are again located at 96.3 on your FM dial and are humbly serving the proud folks of absolutely awe-inspiring Tanner Falls. Do consider looking at our website and do consider donating. Now that that's all out of the way, let's take our first caller. Who do we have on the line, Margaret? It didn't take me long to realize I should have brought a CD case. Okay, Margaret tells me she's bagged a live one. We've got Jim from Mother Teresa Avenue on the line.

Jim, talk to me. Just then, a passing storm caused the frequency to shift up a bit. I could hear the tones of an old song I recognized but couldn't place. I turned the dial to try and keep the song, but it only made this radio jerk even clearer. Hey, I wanted to talk about something the whole town's thinking about, and I haven't heard mentioned on your show yet, Stephen. My ears perked then. The road dipped and rose through the hills as my Jeep drove along. Well, go ahead. I'm listening. We're all listening, son. Jim paused. Do you think the killer will strike again tonight?

Jim started to speak with the nervousness of a man who knew that he would be cut off at any moment. It's been twice in the past two weeks, Stephen. Always on a Friday, always at night. The animals follow a pattern. Like, when are we going to do something? Do we have to wait for three or four for the FBI to get involved? I could hear the host speaking quietly for a few minutes, out of earshot. I was guessing he was speaking to that Margaret lady before he came back to the microphone and spoke quietly. Okay, now we have to disconnect the caller.

But I want to take a moment here to answer him honestly. We said we wouldn't talk about this. We don't want to talk about this. We don't want to bring any attention and glory to this, but I can understand why listeners and people around town want some reassurances. I don't remember most of the details here, but just in this moment, I felt like my car hit a patch of black ice. My Jeep slid and t-boned a guardrail and landed in a somersault right side up. The wreck left me unconscious and stunned off the side of the road. But I was all right.

My car, not so much. I turned on the engine, but nothing happened. The car wouldn't start, but the crack displays lit up and an all too familiar cackle came from the radio. I remember it continuing when I came to. People like to remember New Testament God, the God of forgiveness and sunshine and rosary and heaven on earth. They forget the wrath. They forget Genesis. Well, let me tell you, caller, the Lord has made a place for this Cretan and the people of Tanner Falls will send him to this place where vengeance is best made.

Blow. We have already dug his grave. Just then, my airbag deployed in my face. This second wave of shock to my head left me more dizzy than the accident itself. I don't mean to get all fire and brimstone, folks. This stuff really brings it out in you. Everyone in town knows the brutality involved in these cases. Everyone in town knows somebody who's been affected. So please stay safe out there. Once again, we're advising folks to stay off the local roads past dark and please avoid picking up hitchhikers on Highway 26. I opened up my door and surveyed the remains of my crumpled Jeep. I looked down the dark highway.

A sign just a few yards away read the next exit. And you guessed it. Highway 26. A string of expletives came from my mouth then, and that mantra became my panicked prayer. I started to dig through my back seat for the charger that I knew wasn't there. I looked in my trunk for it, too. I was checking glove box, seat backs, even that annoying spot between the cushions. Nothing. I turned the engine over a few more times just to check that, too, but had no luck. The clock on my dash read midnight.

Radio Nowhere tuned back in with the flailing battery. Looks like we're out of time for tonight, folks. Margaret, that foxy little wench that she is, she's left me high and dry, so I'm closing up shop solo tonight. I'd like to extend a heartfelt be safe to all the good folks at Tanner out there. You know, though we talk about the shadow of evil, we shall not fear it.

So good night, folks, and we'll be back tomorrow. The station returned to static. I sat in the driver's seat like a trapped little animal. My options began to dwindle with the temperatures that must have been well below freezing at this point. I could get out and walk. The GPS pointed out a gas station that was 30 miles east, but that route took me right through the supposed hunting grounds. My only other option was to wait in the car where it was safe and locked, but then I became just a sitting duck.

As the rain slowly transitioned to snow, I unfortunately settled for the latter. Something about the drift of the static and the warm air from the heater made the car surprisingly comfortable. For the first hour, I just spent the time surveying the endless trees and wilderness around me. I thought maybe it would be cool to see a bear or a wolf or something different in the distance. The car would at least protect me from that. I dreamed of an entire zoo's worth of animals surrounding my car and peeking inside harmlessly. Of everything I imagined though, truthfully, I never expected what came next. I was woken up at two in the morning by the sound of metal being scraped against metal. My contacts were still in, thank God, but they did that thing where they slide to the back of your eyes and you start to lose focus. It took a few moments to rub and gather my sight

before looking through the windshield into the lonely road ahead of me. The snow was the first and only thing I could see. Two inches at least on the roads and probably four in the woods of me. The snow was the first and only thing I could see. Two inches at least on the roads and probably four in the woods around me. The visibility had dropped about 20 feet. It took a moment of listening for the source of the sound to become clear. And then it hit me. Somebody was standing in the road. I tried to flash my lights at them, but my battery was dead, so it only came out in a flicker. I could barely see anything. Walls of white stood between me and the mystery figure.

He, or I guess it could be a she, had to be about 50 feet away. They were wearing a heavy coat, and they had some kind of mask on. And they held something long in their hands, something that was dragging against the gravel to produce that uncomfortable noise, but I couldn't tell what it was. The figure stood tall and straight like an arrow.

Then they fell to the ground and flattened out in the snow. The bizarre juxtaposition of those two movements sent a shiver down my spine. I thumbed the lock just to make sure that it worked, and I laid down flat trying to hide. But it didn't work. The figure stood up again, and then it charged. From 50 feet away, the shadow ran towards me at full speed, and I didn't know what to do. I knew that this could be the killer from the radio, and I knew in that moment that I could be his next victim.

I knew all of these things, and in my mind, that leech of panic reached around to grab every lobe and stem that it could find. Just then, a large object collided with the hood of my car. I leaned up to see a flail smack down on my windshield. This person pulled the round cylindrical ball back with his chain and struck down on my mirror. I screamed for somebody, anybody to help, but there was no one around. The figure in front of me pulled back the flail one more time, and this is when I could see the mask more clearly. It was a pig face.

It was one of those with, like, hair all over it. And this sick person leaned into the passenger mirror and stared at me with that freakish mask like he was trying to look into my eyes. He leaned back, and just as he did, I jumped into the passenger seat and backed away as his flail came through the window and sent bits of shattered glass through the cabin. I knew in that moment I was about to die. Just then, a gloved hand reached into my car and pulled up the lock. This man opened the door slowly.

It was as if he enjoyed this part more than anything else. They must have known that they had me then. That I was done. I must have looked like a cat quartering a mouse. But there was one thing the killer didn't consider. And it's pure dumb luck that they didn't. The car had four doors. Four doors.

Four exits. The pig man was busy pulling at his weapon that was wedged into the hood on the driver's side. He was distracted. Now was my chance. I popped out of the passenger door, fell into the snow, and sprinted into the woods like the devil himself was behind me. Because maybe he really was. This episode was written by Matt Richardson. It was performed by me, and the series is produced by myself and David Flowers. Our theme was created by Justin Daniel.

The story was modified slightly for audio retelling with the author's consent. But if you'd like to read the original version, you can go to our website, fullbodychillspodcast.com and be sure to come back tomorrow so I can tell you another story that will give you full body chills.

Full Body Chills is an AudioChuck production. So what do you think, Chuck? Do you approve?