Horror Stories - 6 Creepy TRUE Backroads Horror Stories That Will Make You Avoid Empty Roads at Night

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Starting point is 00:00:45 Hello, everyone, and welcome back to horror stories. I know many of you use these episodes to fall asleep, so before you drift off, I'd love it if you could leave a comment letting me know where you're listening from around the world. Also, don't forget to like and subscribe if you're enjoying the episodes. Story 1. I'm a corrections officer in Jersey. I'm in my 20s built like a tank, around 6 feet 2 and 280 pounds,

Starting point is 00:01:22 a mix of muscle and fat. I've got one of those faces that doesn't exactly say, come talk to me, which works out fine because most of the time I keep to myself. I don't usually start conversations, but if someone talks to me, I'll probably end up chatting their ear off for a while. The thing is,

Starting point is 00:01:41 I'm not the kind of person people normally, try to mess with. I never consider myself someone who could be an easy victim. But that night on my motorcycle made me realize that fear doesn't care how big or tough you are. I work second shift at a correctional facility and I usually get out around midnight. That night was one of those perfect summer nights. Warm air, zero clouds, just the hum of insects in the trees. I decided to ride to work on my bike, a black 2019 Road King special. It's my pride and joy. I live about 15 minutes away, and there's no better way to end a shift than with a calm, cool ride back home. I hung out in the parking lot for about 10 minutes after work, talking with a couple co-workers.

Starting point is 00:02:30 Then I put on my helmet, swung my leg over the bike, fired it up, and that deep familiar roar filled the air. Just that sound always puts me in a good mood. I've got two main routes back. One is the highway, a little longer but straight and predictable. The other is a narrow road that cuts through the woods. It's shorter, darker, and has some really fun curves to lean through. Naturally, I took the back road.

Starting point is 00:02:59 There are no streetlights at all out there, just trees on both sides and the single beam of my headlight cutting the darkness. There's a small clearing where the road is. passes by a nature preserve with a tiny building. But other than that, it's just pure wild blackness. I've ridden that road hundreds of times so I wasn't nervous. I was just enjoying the calm, leaning into the curves and listening to the roar of the engine echoed through the trees. I ride loud partly because I tell myself it scares off deer, even though I know I'm probably just justifying it. I was about halfway home when I came up to the only traffic light.

Starting point is 00:03:37 on that route. It's right at a small four-way intersection, with a narrow little bridge off to the right and a creek running underneath. Of course, the light turned red right as I rolled up. Normally I just go through. At that hour, there's never anyone there. But that night I decided to stop. I still regret that decision. I put the bike in neutral, let out the clutch, and just sat there listening to it idle, soaking in the stillness. There was no way. nobody around. No sound except the crickets and the rumble of my machine. Then from the right I saw headlights coming, a pickup coming in kind of fast. At first it didn't seem strange, until it suddenly slammed on its brakes, stopping right in the middle of the intersection

Starting point is 00:04:25 and completely blocking my way. My stomach dropped instantly. I didn't know why, but something was wrong. Really wrong. Working in prisons sharpens your instincts for when something is about to go sideways, and every alarm in me went off. My headlight hit the driver, and I could make him out. White guy, 40s trucker hat. His face looked worn, like someone who's lived hard or gotten wrecked by drugs. He was thin, more on the small side. Nothing about his size screamed danger, but the way he moved made my skin crawl.

Starting point is 00:05:04 Before I could process it, he opened the door and got out of the truck. And I don't think I've ever felt terror like I did in that moment. I've been part of cell extractions with violent inmates. I've been surrounded by dangerous guys. I've dealt with fights and riots without blinking. But this was different. It was primal. My body locked up.

Starting point is 00:05:27 My fingers tingled. My chest felt light. A kind of fear that hits you in a way you can't control. Doesn't matter how tough you think you are. The guy started saying something, but I couldn't understand him over the bike's rumble. He wasn't yelling. He was talking like it was broad daylight and we were having a normal conversation. That made it worse, like he wasn't even aware of how sinister the whole scene was. I started backing up slowly, staying calm, just enough to make space so I could go around his pickup.

Starting point is 00:06:02 I didn't want to get too close in case he lunged at me. I never took my eyes off him. Finally, I had just enough room to slip past. I put my right foot down to steady the bike and get ready to drop it into first. And then I stepped on a loose rock. My foot slipped for just an instant, maybe half a second of distraction. But when I looked back up, the guy was already sprinting straight at me full speed. Everything happened so fast my brain could barely keep up.

Starting point is 00:06:33 I barely got my left arm off the handlebar to cover myself when he swung as like a damn fighter. He hooked me hard, hitting my helmet and my shoulder at the same time, and the impact sent me rocking backward. The bike tipped, my feet came off the ground, and in the blink of an eye I was rolling on the asphalt, watching my Harley go down beside me. I didn't even have time to think about the pain. I just saw him grabbing the handlebars trying to lift it, and something inside me snapped. The fear I'd felt evaporated, replaced by pure adrenaline and rage. That bike is my life, and seeing him touch it lit the fuse. I sprang up, flipped my visor up so I could breathe better, and went right at him.

Starting point is 00:07:23 I think he saw me coming because when I reached him, he let out this weird sound, half scream, half gasp, like he didn't expect me to fight back. He was trying to haul the Harley up by the handlebars. Impossible. But it gave me the perfect opening. I wrapped my arms around his waist and slammed him to the ground. We hit hard. I got on top of him and started throwing punches, not thinking.

Starting point is 00:07:50 Just pure instinct. All I saw was red. He started moaning, covering his face. But I wasn't going to stop until I was sure he was not. threat anymore. When I finally stopped, he was lying there, bloody and shaking, mumbling something I couldn't make out. For a second, I even felt bad for him. He looked so small, so gone. You could tell he was high or completely out of it. Still, he was the one who attacked me. After a moment, he managed to get back up, still crying, and stumbled back to his truck. I stood there breathing hard,

Starting point is 00:08:29 heart pounding trying to process what had just happened. He got in, slammed the door, and drove off into the darkness. Just like that, he was gone. I stood in the middle of the road for a minute, shaking from adrenaline. My leg hurt, probably from the fall, but I didn't care. I picked my Harley up, a few scrapes, nothing major, and fired it back up. Then I ran that red light like it didn't even exist. When I finally got home, I called the police, identified myself, and said I'd come in the next morning to file the full report.

Starting point is 00:09:06 They confirmed everything checked out. The marks of my helmet and gear told the story on their own. They never found the guy, and honestly, I doubt they tried that hard. But I didn't care anymore. The bike was fine. I was fine. That was enough for me. I still take that road sometimes, but not at night anymore.

Starting point is 00:09:27 These days I go back on the highway. Longer, yeah, but safe. And to the guy who tried to knock me off my bike that night. I hope you got the help you needed. But if not, and you ever come looking for revenge, you'll find me at that same intersection. Just kidding. You won't find me.

Starting point is 00:09:47 I learned my lesson. Story 2. I lived for several years in New Mexico before moving to the Midwest. Back then one of my best friends, Amy, and I spent most of our days off exploring. We both love driving through forgotten corners of the desert, tracking down ghost towns, wandering through empty lots where buildings used to be, and soaking in that endless silence only the desert can give you. There was something peaceful about it, that mix of stillness and isolation.

Starting point is 00:10:27 But one trip made me understand how unsettling that I was. isolation can become when the wrong kind of people are out there with you. It was March 2010 and we were driving from Ruidoso to Albuquerque. Neither of us was a fan of taking the direct route. So we decided to cut through back roads, thinking we'd see more of that empty, beautiful landscape before heading home. One stretch took us along NM55, a narrow ribbon of two-lane asphalt that looked like it cut through the middle of nowhere.

Starting point is 00:10:58 We'd driven plenty of roads like that and usually loved them, but that afternoon that road felt different. Thinking back now, the silence of all of it weighs heavier in my memory. That part of New Mexico is nothing but flat desert. You can see to the horizon and there isn't much to look at besides dry earth, rocks and the occasional low shrub. You could drive 20 minutes without passing another vehicle or seeing a building. That's how empty everything was. We were heading north when we spotted a white pickup truck ahead of us. It was going the same direction, maybe a mile away, but then it did something strange.

Starting point is 00:11:38 It stopped and turned sideways, completely blocking both lanes. We slowed down, watching it, trying to figure out what was going on. There wasn't another car in sight. There was no reason for it to stop like that. The longer we watched, the more uncomfortable it got. Amy asked if maybe we should turn around, but we hesitated. Out there, there was no way to know what might be waiting behind us, too. When we were about half a mile away, the truck slowly moved to the side, lining up in the same direction we were heading.

Starting point is 00:12:12 We tried to calm ourselves down, telling ourselves maybe he was checking something on his land, maybe a rancher or some kind of worker. We passed cautiously, and I remember two things clearly. The driver was alone, a middle-aged man who never took his eyes off us the entire time, and he had a walkie-talkie pressed to his mouth, talking into it as we drove by. That's when a real knot of dread tightened in my stomach. We were the only ones out there. As soon as we got past him, I turned in my seat and watched him pull back onto the road right behind us.

Starting point is 00:12:49 He didn't ride our bumper immediately. Instead, he kept this strange pace. closing in, then falling back, then closing in again. It was deliberate. Amy's voice came out low when she said, he's following us. We both knew she was right. We checked our phones, no signal, of course.

Starting point is 00:13:13 That stretch of desert was basically a dead zone. Amy started speeding up while I wrestled with the map, looking for another route. Any road that would take us to more traffic or a town, but there was nothing. NM-55 was the only way. The nearest town was mountain air still miles away. Turning around didn't seem like an option, not with him behind us. Then up ahead we saw another pickup coming toward us in the opposite lane. At first I felt a little relief thinking we weren't completely alone, but as it got closer something felt wrong. It was an older beat-up truck

Starting point is 00:13:52 crawling along at maybe 20 miles per hour. As we passed, we saw another man behind the wheel, also middle-aged, also talking into a walkie-talkie. My stomach dropped. Once the white pickup got past him, that older truck made a slow U, turn and pulled in behind it. Now there were two trucks following us, and the man in the white one lifted his walkie-talkie again. They weren't random strangers anymore. They were coordinated. That certainty hit me hard. I had never felt hunted in my life until that moment. Both trucks stayed close behind us.

Starting point is 00:14:31 The desert stretched endlessly in every direction. No one around to witness anything. We started scanning the road ahead for anything. Nails, debris, something they might have put down to stop us. We even talked about taking the SUV off the road and trying to disappear cross-country. But we knew how risky that would be. They were locals, and if they wanted to catch us, leaving the road could have been a terrible mistake.

Starting point is 00:15:00 So we stayed on the highway, praying nothing went wrong. The white pickup pulled closer. So close I could see his eyes in the rearview mirror. He kept talking into that walkie-talkie, and now he was practically on our bumper. The old beat-up truck was right behind him. Amy pressed harder on the gas. 70, 80 miles per hour.

Starting point is 00:15:24 The SUV started to vibrate a little. It wasn't built to go that fast, but she didn't let up. My hands were clenched so tight on the seat I could feel it in my arms. Then the white pickup swerved into the oncoming lane. My blood ran cold. He was trying to pass us and get in front of us. If he managed it and the other one stayed behind, we'd be boxed in with nowhere to go. That's when the panic truly set in.

Starting point is 00:15:52 I remember looking at the rocky desert on both sides, and realizing our only option might be to risk going off the pavement and pray we didn't flip. We were seconds away from doing it. Right then, as we crested a small hill, we saw a sign for Salinas Pueblo Mission's National Monument. A road opened to the left, and like it had been planned by a miracle, A blue pickup pulled out from that road and merged onto the highway ahead of us. As we got closer, I noticed the words U.S. Park Service on the plates. Amy and I looked at each other.

Starting point is 00:16:28 No words. Just shared relief. I glanced back at the mirror just in time to see both trucks. The white one and the old one. Suddenly slowed down and make wide U-turns, heading back the way they came from. We didn't stop until we reached Mountain Air. following that blue truck the whole way. We never found out who those men were or what they wanted. Later I called the state police, told them everything, and they said they'd keep an eye on the area.

Starting point is 00:16:58 But I know what I felt that day, and it wasn't a misunderstanding. They were coming for us. That stretch of road isn't far from where Tara Calico was kidnapped. It's also not far from Elephant Butte, the place where David Parker Ray had his torture trailer. By then he'd been dead for a while, but thinking about it afterward gave me chills. Maybe it wasn't connected at all. Maybe it was drug territory, though I doubt it. Whatever it was, there's something out there in that desert that doesn't want to be found. And it watches the people who get too close.

Starting point is 00:17:41 Story 3. This happened about ten years ago when I was a freshman in college. I had just started dating my then boyfriend. who lived a few towns away. These days, we actually live in a small apartment not far from where it all happened, which honestly makes it even creepier to think about now. That night I fell asleep at his house while we were watching a movie. By the time I woke up and got ready to leave, it was around 3 a.m.

Starting point is 00:18:11 I was exhausted and all I wanted was to get home. But I knew the drive well, even though I still wasn't completely familiar with that part of town. To get to the highway from his place, you have to pass through a big park. It's a short stretch, but it's dark. There are no streetlights. There are barely any houses nearby. And the few that are there sit far back from the road, completely hidden by the trees.

Starting point is 00:18:37 I turned onto that road and immediately saw a gold sedan stopped in the middle of the road. It was positioned strangely sideways across both lanes like it had broken down or something, but in a way that made it really hard to get past from either direction. For context, I'm a pretty small person, about five feet tall, and back then I probably weighed 100 pounds soaking wet. I was also 19 years old, tired and alone on an empty road in the middle of the night. So when I slowed down and started trying to figure out if I could squeeze by, I already had that uncomfortable gut feeling sitting heavy in my stomach.

Starting point is 00:19:15 Then, before I even made a move, a tall man came running out from the front of the car, waving his arms to get my attention. He didn't look angry or injured. He just... Something in his body language was wrong. I can't explain it exactly, but every alarm in my head went off at once. There was no way I was stopping for that guy. I slowed to almost a crawl and tried to ease my car around him, but he stepped right in front,

Starting point is 00:19:43 completely blocking the way. My heart was pounding. I locked my doors immediately. Thankfully, it was already a habit, and stayed inside. The man came closer, leaned toward my window and started talking. I couldn't hear him well through the glass, but I could read his lips enough to catch that he was asking for help. He said he needed to use my phone to call someone. I shook my head and told him no through the window, but he kept begging, pressing his hand at the glass pleading.

Starting point is 00:20:14 Please. That was it for me. I didn't care if I had to run over his foot. I was getting out of there. I yanked the wheel hard and hit the gas, pushing my car into the oncoming lane just enough to squeeze past the sedan. He tried to move behind me, but I had already gotten around him. When I looked in the rearview mirror, I saw him standing in the middle of the road, his face lit red by my taillights, and he had an expression of pure rage. Then my headlights caught something that froze my blood. Out of the bushes along the side of the road, three men were stepping out. They were dressed the same, black t-shirts, jeans, and every single one of them was staring straight at my car.

Starting point is 00:21:00 It was obvious they were part of the same group. The way they moved, the way they looked at me. It was like they were furious I'd gotten away. I slammed my foot down harder on the gas. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold the steering wheel. I flew down the road and merged straight onto the highway without looking back. My chest felt tight and I could feel tears building, but I focused on only one thing, getting as far away as possible.

Starting point is 00:21:30 Once I was safely on the highway, I grabbed my phone and called the police. That turned into its own little nightmare. I got transferred three times between the county and highway patrol because nobody was sure who had jurisdiction. It took forever before I could actually tell someone what happened. When I finally did, they told me they'd send an officer to check it out, and I begged them to call me back if they found anything, because I drove that route often. Later that morning, a local officer called to tell me that when they arrived, the car and the men were already gone, but about five minutes after he got off the phone with me, another woman had called in with

Starting point is 00:22:11 basically the same story, same road, same description, same time window. That was enough to convince them something really was going on out there. They told me to avoid that park entirely at night, which I've done ever since. I had no idea the area had a reputation for being unsafe. When I told my parents, my mom burst into tears and my dad got furious. Still, both of them were proud that I trusted my instincts and hadn't stopped. After that, we set a new family rule. Nobody comes home at night without texting someone first. Even now, every time I pass that park during the day, I still think about what could have happened if I'd rolled down the window or stopped for that man. Story 4. This past summer, as a graduation gift, my mother and my grandmother took me to

Starting point is 00:23:10 Alberta to see the Spruce Meadows Masters Tournament. If you don't know it, it's one of the biggest equestrian competitions in the world, and it was something I dreamed about since I was a kid. We flew out there and got around using Uber because we don't have it in my city. Everyone said Uber drivers in Calgary were great, friendly, punctual, and professional. And for the first few days, that was completely true. The cars were clean, the drivers were polite, and we were. And we were we never waited long. But on the fourth day, everything changed. We ordered our usual ride in the morning around 9.30, with plenty of time before the show started. By 10 o'clock, the driver still hadn't shown up, which was strange because every other driver had arrived within five minutes or

Starting point is 00:23:58 less. Just as we were about to cancel and request another one, a car finally pulled up, and immediately something felt off. His profile said he drove a 2017 Dodge Journey, but he showed up in an old beat-up sedan that looked like it was barely running. I walked up to the window to confirm he was actually our driver. But before I could even say anything, he snapped. Yeah, I'm Derek. My car's in the shop. This is my sisters. Now get in, ladies. I've got other rides waiting. His tone was harsh, impatient, almost aggressive. I froze for a second, getting a bad feeling.

Starting point is 00:24:40 but my mom and grandma told me it was fine. So reluctantly, I got in the back next to my grandmother while my mom took the front seat. As soon as we pulled away, I noticed we weren't taking the same route we'd used the previous days. He said it was a shortcut. He insisted it was faster than the highway, but soon the scenery changed. We left the city streets and ended up in open, empty countryside. side. Fifteen minutes passed, then twenty, and we kept getting farther and farther from anything familiar. I asked him trying to sound calm if he was sure where he was going. He ignored me

Starting point is 00:25:18 completely and just kept driving, talking to my mom instead. But it wasn't just friendly. He was flirting, commenting on her looks and laughing with this sleazy little chuckle that made my skin crawl. I watched my mother four small, polite smiles clearly uncomfortable. Another ten minutes went by and there was still no highway, just endless fields and dirt roads. Suddenly he pulled over on a deserted road. He didn't say a word. The car idled for what felt like forever. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.

Starting point is 00:25:56 I remember grabbing my grandmother's hand and squeezing it as hard as I could. Then he turned around in his seat, reached his arm toward me and put his hand on my leg. I jerked away, and his face twisted into a strange look of satisfaction. Sorry about the long ride, he said, staring right at us. But you're too beautiful to let go so soon. I still remember that line perfectly. His tone was calm, almost playful, but his eyes were dead. I wanted to open the door and run, but we were in the middle of nowhere.

Starting point is 00:26:32 He kept talking, making comments about me, calling me young, saying I had so much life ahead of me. It didn't even sound real, like a piece of a nightmare. Then my grandmother, quiet and sweet, who almost never raises her voice, suddenly yelled at him. She ordered him to turn around and take us back to the highway. Something about the way she said it seemed to snap him out of the sick little game he was playing. He didn't say anything else.

Starting point is 00:27:03 He gripped the wheel hard and started to. driving again, though he stayed on the same road. Every few minutes, though, he looked at me in the rearview mirror, that unsettling half-smile creeping back. After what felt like forever, though it was actually about an hour and a half, we finally reached the event grounds. The second the car stopped, I flung the door open and practically ran out. My legs were shaking so badly I could barely stand. My mom paid quickly just to be done with it, and we didn't say a word as we walked toward the gates. I didn't even realize I was crying until my grandmother put her arm around me. We reported him through the app later that same day, but I don't know if anything came of it.

Starting point is 00:27:48 All I know is I haven't used a rideshare service since, and I don't think I ever will again. Story 5 When I was 15, I was one of those stubborn, independent teens. who think nothing bad is ever going to happen to them. I had friends, of course, but I enjoyed being alone just as much as being with other people. I could spend entire days walking the back roads near my house, sometimes 10 miles or more, just to clear my head. I still couldn't drive, and this was before smartphones were common.

Starting point is 00:28:27 So it was just me, the trees, and the crunch of gravel under my sneakers. My parents probably should have been stricter, considering I was a roughly 100-pound girl wandering around alone. But they trusted me. And honestly, I trusted myself too much. I thought I was untouchable. It wasn't unusual for cars to slow down and ask if I needed a ride. Almost always, men. I'd smile politely say,

Starting point is 00:28:57 No, thanks. I'm just walking, and they'd move on. Sometimes they'd insist one more time just to make sure, but most of them were harmless. It happened so often I'd barely thought about it. I'd walked hundreds of miles without a single real issue. But there was one day that turned out very differently. At some point I took a wrong turn, something that wasn't unusual for me at all. But this time I ended up in a part of the countryside I didn't recognize whatsoever.

Starting point is 00:29:28 It was quiet, too quiet. and it stretched for miles and miles. I figured if I just kept walking sooner or later I'd find my way back. A few minutes later, an old car pulled up beside me and a guy in his 30s leaned out the window to ask if I wanted to ride. I told him no and kept walking. Still something about him gave me a bad feeling. The tone, the way he looked at me. I shoved it out of my mind like I always did. Ten minutes later that same car showed up again. He must have deliberately turned around to come back. My stomach dropped when I realized that this time he wasn't just passing.

Starting point is 00:30:11 He was creeping along at my pace, right next to me. He started asking personal questions. My name, my age, where I lived. I lied about all of it, trying to sound normal, but my pulse was pounding. He kept pushing for me to get in. I told him no again and again, as politely as I could. I was scared, but I didn't want to provoke him. It felt like forever until another car came up behind him, forcing him to speed up and drive off.

Starting point is 00:30:44 I remember feeling more annoyed than scared, trying to convince myself it was over and I was overreacting. But like clockwork, ten minutes later I saw his car again. This time he didn't pull up next to me. He pulled over a few feet ahead and just sat there waiting. My mind went blank. Instead of running or panicking, I kept walking. My body felt disconnected, like I was watching myself from the outside. I tried not to look at him as I passed, but curiosity got the better of me.

Starting point is 00:31:17 And that's when I saw it. He was aiming something at me. A gun. Before I could even process it, the roar of another engine came from behind me. me. A motorcycle appeared out of nowhere and stopped a few feet back. The man in the car froze, panicked and took off down the road like his life depended on it. I stood there shaking, my heart pounding so hard it hurt. The motorcyclist, a middle-aged guy who looked like somebody's dad, asked if I was okay and if I needed a ride. I said no, using the same polite phrase as always,

Starting point is 00:31:53 but barely able to speak. He nodded, hesitated. for a moment and then left. I didn't take his help because, honestly, at that moment, I didn't trust anyone. But looking back, I know he probably saved my life. I ran the rest of the way home, looking over my shoulder every few steps, terrified the car would come back. I never told my parents. I didn't want them to take away my freedom, and part of me didn't even want to admit how close I'd come to something horrible. I kept going out. walking after that, but never again in that area. Years later, they turned that stretch of road into a public nature preserve. I've walked there again since then, but it never feels the same.

Starting point is 00:32:40 Even today, I think about how differently it all could have ended if that motorcyclist hadn't shown up at exactly the moment he did. Story 6. This happened when I was a teenager about 12 years ago, right after I got my license and fell in love with the feeling of driving alone. My high school was about 40 minutes from home, and instead of taking the main roads like most people did, I always chose the long-winding back roads. They ran through quiet neighborhoods, thick stretches of forest, and even open farmland.

Starting point is 00:33:20 There was hardly any traffic, just curves, trees, and off in the distance, the occasional old barn. It was peaceful, and I liked the solitude. One afternoon on my way home, I noticed a car pulling behind me not long after I left school. At first it wasn't strange at all, until I realized it was making every turn I made. It was a white, unmarked Ford Crown Victoria, the kind you see in every cop movie. The driver was a man wearing dark sunglasses, alone, expressionless. At first I laughed to myself and thought it was a cool.

Starting point is 00:33:58 coincidence, but the more it kept happening, the more uneasy I felt. About 20 minutes into the drive, I started testing it. I took tighter turns, unexpected routes. I brake suddenly and then sped up again. But no matter what I did, that car stayed right behind me. He never used his turn signal, not once. Every neighborhood street I took, every detour he followed. By the time I'd been driving almost 30 minutes. I knew it wasn't in my head. When I turned onto the road that leads to my house and still saw him in my rearview mirror, my stomach dropped. I knew I couldn't pull into my driveway with him watching. There was another turn right before my street that led into a small neighborhood laid out in a loop. I took it, hoping he'd keep going straight, but he didn't. He followed me. The neighborhood was

Starting point is 00:34:54 almost empty, just a few scattered houses, nobody outside. The road ended at a small roundabout with only two options, left or right. I had no idea which one led back out, and there wasn't time to think. I went right. To my surprise, he turned left. I slammed my foot down on the gas, pushing my little car as hard as it could go. The street climbed a small hill, and as I rounded it, I saw the other exit on the far side. I shot through and got back onto the main road with my heart racing. I drove for miles weaving through side streets, checking every mirror, expecting to see those headlights behind me again, but he was gone.

Starting point is 00:35:41 Eventually I pulled into the parking lot of a nearby elementary school and sat there for about 15 minutes trying to stop shaking. I wanted to call someone, my parents, maybe the police. lease, but something held me back. See, a few months earlier, I'd had a stupid moment I still regret. I hit a man's car in a parking lot. He was inside when it happened, but I panicked, convinced there was no real damage. I left without saying anything. It was impulsive and cowardly, and I felt awful immediately. Ever since, a little voice in my head kept telling me that maybe he could find me somehow. So when that car followed him,

Starting point is 00:36:23 of me that day. Part of me wondered if it was connected. Maybe it was the same guy or someone close to him trying to scare me. Or maybe it was something more sinister, completely random. I'll never really know. That night I went home the long way, making sure nobody was behind me and I didn't tell anyone what happened. It might have been a coincidence, or it might be that I barely escaped something terrible. Either way, I never took those winding back roads again after that.

Horror Stories - 6 Creepy TRUE Backroads Horror Stories That Will Make You Avoid Empty Roads at Night

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