The Dark Somnium - The Road to Nowhere

Episode Date: September 1, 2022

This creepypasta scary story is from the creepypasta website, written by William Rayne. Make sure to check out the original tory and support the author! "On the Road to Nowhere" https://www.creepypasta.com/on-the-road-to-nowhere/--- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/darksomnium/message Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Hello, everybody. Before we get to today's story, I wanted to tell you about today's sponsor, Manscaped. Manscaped is the premium brand for men's grooming and hygiene products. If you've normally used standard razors to shave or are paying $40 or $50 for replacement heads on your electric trimmer, Manscaped is a great option to look into, and I would recommend the lawnmower 4.0. This trimmer has ceramic blades and skin-safe technology. They help reduce nicks and cuts so you can use it on pretty much any part of your body, and they're easily replaceable.

It's wireless, and you can get up to 90 minutes of use on a full charge. Or you could try out the ultra-smooth package. This package involves an easy three-step shaving system. The crop exfoliator, which exfoliates the area, and preemptively helps reduce ingrown hairs while shaving. The crop gel, which is applied to prepare for a close shave, and the new crop shaver, which has three precision blades with extra wide lubricating strips and a pivoting head for the best shave at any angle.

In the ultra-smooth package, you also get six replacement blades for your crop shaver, as well as a convenient storage case for easy travel. And you can get 20% off plus free shipping at Manscaped with code Dark20. I'd like to thank all of you for supporting the channel, and I'd like to thank Manscaped for sponsoring this video. And with that said, Enjoy the story. My old Toyota was barely hanging on during my trip to work that day.

I probably should have asked around to maybe arrange a carpool or even just called in sick, but I was hoping it wasn't too far gone. It was approaching the end of the month, and the last thing I needed was to miss a day of work when rent was coming due. Though the job paid pretty well, I still mostly lived paycheck to paycheck. I managed my money well enough, but things weren't. weren't always easy for the working man who never managed to achieve any further education after graduating high school.

My home life hadn't been the most stable over the years, so I had never been the most attentive student. There were times I never even believed I would see the other side of those times with my sanity intact, but life got considerably easier when I was able to move out of my childhood home. My old beater of a car was struggling like hell when I pulled into the parking lot. lot at my job. I kept my fingers crossed that it would still get me home after my eight-hour shift ended. I had been ignoring the check engine light for a while now, but it hadn't been struggling so much until this Thursday afternoon.

I live a good forty minutes away from my job, the money was decent enough to warrant the commute. Still, I shouldn't have continued to procrastinate in getting my car looked at. It was my lifeline after all. I suppose I was hoping to avoid the likely high cost of whatever repairs it would need, or having to take any time off work to arrange to get it fixed up. So I just continued to cross my fingers and roll the dice. Naturally, of all days for this to happen, my relief called in a little after ten to let me know he would be a few hours late. Caleb, a friend who works in another department,

had already offered to give me a ride home if my car wouldn't crank, since he lives out my way. Unfortunately, Jackson running late guaranteed that my only option would be to put my faith in my ragged old Toyota to get home at 2 in the morning, when my now, the longated shift would come to an end. I snuck out to the parking lot to check things out during my break times, but I wasn't the most well-versed in automotive problems. I looked up a few videos to narrow down what could be causing the engine to stall and smoke and backfire from time to time, but most of my research indicated I would need a replacement

part or two, to which I currently had no access to. I told myself that I would not procrastinate any longer on getting someone to look at it if I could just make it home safely that night. As was almost entirely too predictable, Jackson did not stroll in until a little after three. Yeah, he apologized for the inconvenience, but it felt more of an obligatory step. statement than a genuine one. Maybe I was just pissy about having to work over, while frustrated about my uncertain trip home

so late. Regardless of my irritation with the situation, I was finally ready to approach my near-death sedan and hope for the best. It didn't help my circumstances that it was the middle of November, and the 32-degree temperature and bitter wind were already biting into my skin by the time I reached my vehicle. In the cold, causing my goose flesh to shiver and the uncertainty of whether or not my car would start, making my back tense up, I was far from a happy camper. My hand was shaking like hell while I attempted to slide my key into the ignition switch, but I finally made contact and gave it a turn. It took a few tries, forcing me to worry I would flood the engine, but before too long, my rust bucket was humming, to which I let out a grateful sigh in return.

Hopeful that my journey back home would go smoothly, I took advantage of the deserted roads and pushed my pedal down to make the trip in my iffy vehicle as short as possible. If nothing else, pushing past the speed limit got me a little closer to my destination before the engine let out a loud popping sound, followed by a high-pitched squeal while steam billowed out from under the hood. I'd love to tell you that I handled it with dignity, but that was far from the case. As I guided my deceased piece of shit onto the side of the road, with a complete absence of power pushing the wheels, I yelled out every single variation of swear words that my brain could conjure. I popped the hood, which caused more steam to burst out into the frigid night air. I slipped on my work gloves to be able to flip the latch to release it all the way.

But it was hard to see anything through the fog that was erupting from my engine. The cold weather only served to make it even thicker. After feeding the radiator some water, wiggling a couple of hoses and kicking the shit out of my bumper, leaving a fresh new dent to add to my aggravated state, I gave my ignition another try. It wouldn't even attempt to turn over. I just sat in my driver's seat for a while, thumbing through my contacts in search of anyone who may be up this late, while puffing away on a freshly lit cigarette. I had never tried Uber or any such services in the past, so,

I was unsure if they still operated at this hour. Naturally, my service was sketchy in the middle of nowhere that I now sat parked in my broken Toyota. No Wi-Fi, no mobile data, one bar of service. Yep, the fates were not in my corner on this bitter, cold night. With a heavy sigh that made my breath mimic the steam that still drifted out from under my now-closed hood, I snatched my backpack from the passenger seat and began my long, walk home. It was around four in the morning. I was still muttering curses under my breath over the first couple of miles of the trip. I had my hands buried in my jacket pockets,

and I wished I'd thought to wear something thicker when I headed out to work some 12 hours ago. I stopped for a moment to light another cigarette while checking on my phone to see if my access to the internet had returned yet. Of course not, I said to myself with another sigh. My feet were already thrown. I stretched my back out, causing a series of cracks and pops to echo from the lower half of my spine. I looked around at the empty road, feeling like it appeared far less familiar than the one I had traversed twice a day for the last few years.

There were woods on either side of me, which I always knew to be there, but they still looked almost foreign to me. Perhaps they just seemed different because I stood in place, as opposed to the sixty miles per hour I would normally be speeding past them at. Maybe I just hadn't paid much attention to them before. It was still a strange sensation, to be honest. Everything felt a little off somehow. The air was cold, but the wind did not appear to be moving much.

It didn't smell like frosty grass and leaves. Maybe it had just been some time since I last took the time to appreciate such sense. It was almost as if the oxygen I breathed. tasted ye used in some way, if that makes any sort of sense. The world around me was almost completely silent, while I sat on the curb, taking a deep drag on my smoke while allowing my exhausted feet to stop throbbing for a moment or two. The trees on either side of the road appeared to harbor no life, no rustling, no crickets chirping, nothing.

It could be that many forest creatures were hibernating, or otherwise at the rest. rest, again, something I never paid much attention to before. Rarely was I out this late, and this would be the first time I was forced to trudge a good 20 miles back to my home. Before I started moving again, I decided to dig through my bag to find my earbuds. Perhaps some music would make the time pass by at a quicker pace. I tapped shuffle on my downloaded songs and began walking. Maybe 45 minutes after my trip resumed, I decided to give my phone an obligatory glance

to check the time. "'For thirty!' I exclaimed to the deserted highway. I was sure I had been walking for at least an hour before I stopped the first time. There was no way I'd only been traveling for half that. I glanced around to see nothing more than trees in the empty road. There was nothing that could differentiate where I started from where I now stood, aside from the ragged rust bucket I'd left in the breakdown lane many miles back. Part of me almost wanted to travel back to where I'd come from, but I didn't want this trip

to take even longer. Surely my phone was just glitching from the cold. Maybe service was just so bad out here that I wasn't able to get a solid reading of the time. That made sense, I guess. It was a reasonable enough theory, anyway. Far more sensible logic than the last couple of hours of walking, only actually being a quarter of that time. Once again, I began my saunter with a freshly lit cigarette and some new music. The chilly air was still biting into my skin, and now my shoulders were so tensed up that I may have well left the coat hanger in my jacket when I threw it on before leaving my job in the dust.

Every few minutes I glanced back at my phone to see the time remained unchanged. I kept going, regardless of the unmoving digits on my screen. I was a screen, assuming that this only proves my theory that it was nothing more than a technical issue. I continued to glare at the phone until another minute finally passed by on its face, which felt like it took a good quarter of an hour to my internal clock. After many more miles, and only a handful of minutes having supposedly passed by, I knew that the sun should have risen by this point.

According to my mental chronometer, it should be creeping up on seven, though my phone One insisted it was only a little after five. I was sure that dawn had to be just around the corner, but I couldn't see the slightest indication that the sun would be rising anytime soon. It did not surprise me to see my phone's low battery light flashing either. I was growing steadily more skeptical about the possibility of ever getting back to my home when the road finally showed me signs of life beyond my own. The world was so dark around me that the headlights approaching from my real, really, and I was

rear practically lit up the entire highway. I turned to face the vehicle that sped in my direction and extended my thumb out to the side. I could only hope this lone traveler would take pity on me. I may have been seeing things, but as the car drew closer, it looked as though it was bellowing almost as much steam as my own had been before it sputtered out. Still, I maintained my outstretched, pleading thumb and hoped to God they would pull over. As the long and wide 70s model Lincoln slowed down and drifted over the curb where I stood, I practically leapt for joy in the back of my mind.

I stashed my phone and earbuds into my jacket pocket and jogged over to meet the veritable land yacht that appeared to shudder wildly as it idled, had a transparent tarp in place of the absent glass, and the faded green paint was chipped and speckled with splotches of rust. but I was still excited to have a ride nonetheless. Thank you so much. I exclaimed after pulling the door open to allow a cloud of cigarette smoke to erupt from inside. As soon as I got the words out of my mouth, a foul smell leaked from within. It almost made me think of moldy bread dipped in spoiled milk.

The seats were covered by large sweatshirts that appeared to represent one football team or another. They were a similar green to the exterior and had what almost looked to be numbers sewn into them in large white patches, stained with yellow and brown splotches. They were more like symbols than actual numbers, though. Perhaps the shirts represented a foreign team bearing less recognizable numerology. The woman at the steering wheel didn't so much as glance in my direction when I slid into the vehicle and closed the door. She was incredibly thin, with heavily wrinkled and darkly tanned skin. It looked far from a natural tan. She appeared as though she had seen the wrong end of many hard drugs in her time.

Her knotted hair had a faded purple dye job, dark roots, with streams of gray and white running through it. She wore a faded blue and pink flowered dress that revealed her bony and weathered arms. As soon as I snapped the seatbelt latch, she hit the gas without a little. word. Though the interior of the car was quite massive, I had little leg room as my seat was pushed up close to the glove compartment. Choosing not to take a glance in my gift horse's mouth, I thought it was best to not push my luck by adjusting the seat. It was quite awkward to be sharing a car with someone who wouldn't so much as acknowledge me, but the fact we were moving

considerably faster than the couple miles per hour I may have previously been going made it easy to tolerate a bit of discomfort. I really can't thank you enough for picking me up. I offered in an attempt to ease the tension. I ain't nothing. She spoke in a gravelled and worn voice. What brings you out this way so late? I asked, trying my hand at a bit of small talk. Driving. I just nodded my head while deciding it may be best to remain silent after all, as the woman to my left reached into the center console and pulled out a pack of Morley cigarettes. I had to double-take at the writing across the wrinkled soft-shell pack, as it was

designed to match the style of Marlboros, which were my go-to brand. I recalled watching several movies over the years whose characters would smoke Morley's, as this would avoid the producers having to pay an actual cigarette company to allow their name to be displayed on film. Could this have been some sort of novelty pack? Was I reading way too much into a simple pack of smokes? It's likely so. The woman held the open, crumpled box up to her mouth and pulled a cigarette out with her lips, tracking thick saliva across the other remaining butts in the pack. She offered me one with her outstretched hand, while she lit the one in her mouth with the other,

letting go of the steering wheel and causing the car to drift quickly to the left. Uh, no thanks. I replied to the splayed open pack in her hand, gripping my right hand tightly around the, Oh shit handle above the passenger door. Say it yourself. She stated, wrapping her bony fingers around the steering wheel again, while taking an unnervingly long, deep drag from her cigarette. I tried to make my glaring eyes as inconspicuous as possible, while I watched half of the

lit cigarette between the old woman's dried and chapped lips burn about halfway down through that long single drag. The solid inch of cylindrical ash still protruded from the remaining cigarette. that still hung out of her mouth, falling to her chest moments later. That was when I noticed the front of her dress was covered in gray, sooty, ex-nicotine, and paper. I had momentarily been tempted to fish out my own smokes after she offered me one of her spit-moistened ones, but I found my appetite for the habit waning.

By the time the woman snuffed out her morley in the cluttered ash tray, before lighting another, It was getting harder and harder to see much of anything through the thick plume of smoke that filled the cabin of the old Lincoln. Do you mind if I cracked the window? I asked, hoping this request would not offend my chauffeur. Leavers broke. She replied, taking another incredibly deep inhale of smoke. The more I heard her speak, though it had only been short replies at most, what I could make

out from her accent sounded southern almost, but more like a parody of what was. what some may assume a country accent should sound like, if that makes any sense. It reminded me of an actor putting on a southern drawl for a role, having never actually heard one in person. I continued, hoping I wasn't pushing my luck with the strange old bird. Lisson's broke, too. She said, jiggling the handle for confirmation. Oh.

You can get out if it's bothering you. She stated with a shrug. In all honesty, I considered it. We had already been driving for a good ten minutes or so. Surely, I wasn't far off now. Still, the thought of getting back out into the freezing air versus just a little while longer of muffling my coughs and trying my best to avoid breathing in that awful smell would remain an inner debate for a while.

No, it's okay, I replied. Still unsure if this was the right call. I didn't mean any offense. I really do appreciate the ride. She shook her head from side to side while muttering under her breath. We sat in silence for some time, while my driver chain smoked one after the other. I could hardly breathe after another ten minutes went by, but I knew we had to be getting closer to my destination.

This road was a straight shot to the town I lived in, and my home was only a few minutes past the city limits. Though I couldn't see a damn thing through the smoke that engulfed the speeding car, I was certain I should be within tolerable walking distance of my house by this point. I was beyond ready to get away from the foul stench and breath and into some fresh air. Not to mention, everything felt just a little bit off from the cigarette pack to the phony accent. Sure, I could be overreacting to easily explainable things, especially with how exhausted both my body and mind had gone. But I wanted nothing more than to get out of this car and away from this one.

woman. If it's cool, I think this should be close enough. I said, breaking the silence that was almost as suffocating as the thick fog. No reply. I can just get out right here if you don't mind pulling over. Still, not a word. I sincerely can't thank you enough for getting me this far. Was she even still awake?

Ma'am? Nothing. All I could see was the flicker of light when she would take another deep drag off her cigarette. All I could hear was the rumbling of the engine, the tarp flapping in the wind behind me, and the tire's occasional bump over the reflectors in the center line of the road. I waved my hand back and forth in an attempt to clear a line of sight through the cloud. Suddenly, the woman's face emerged through the smog as she let go of the steering wheel and charged toward me.

Within a second, her whole body was on top of me in the passenger seat, and her wrinkled and bony fingers wrapped around my wrists, pinning me to the door. I ain't going nowhere. Her foul breath hit me like a careening truck. Apparently, that was the very thing that worked its way through the car, though that was only the deluded version. What struck my nose this time was much more intense and stomach-turning. I had to fight against the lump forming in my throat, as well as the considerable strength

of the frail old woman. You had your chance to leave. I didn't have to offer you that. She said softly. I could feel the car gliding from left to right as we still sped across the deserted road. I had no idea how this was possible, as the foot that was previously on the pedal was now pushing against the dashboard as she continued to scream at my face. I picked you up. That means I own your ass now. Them's the rules, boy.

Her eyes were wide and maniacal, as was her menacing grin, which was filled to the brim with yellowed and rotten teeth. Get off me! I squeaked out after her fingers let go of my wrists and wrapped around my throat. I grabbed onto the door latch with my now free hand and hoped to be able to throw it open. Surely, rolling out onto the concrete, couldn't be much worse than whatever this insane hag had in store for me. Of course, the door wouldn't give way. She cackled madly while I attempted to fumble around for the lock. You ain't getting back out that door!

She sneered, digging her fingers harder into my neck. I was trying everything I could to break free of her grasp, but it just made her laugh harder. This road is mine, you simple shit! Get your fucking hands off me! I yelled out. I started thrusting my fist into her ribs after giving up on my attempts to open the door. She didn't so much as wince from my punches, regardless of the complete lack of any padding around her frail bones. Every one of my jabs felt as though they were striking little more than her solid rib cage,

but she gave absolutely no reaction to my assault. I felt the wrinkled and leathery textured skin of her cheek slide across my own as she moved in closer. She whispered directly into my ear. It was mine too. Soon as you set foot on it. She kept one hand gripped around my neck, while the other grabbed on to the top of my head, slamming it against the window. The first hit almost knocked me out cold, immediately making me feel dizzy and queasy.

The second was worse, causing my eyes to cross and my body to feel weak and devoid of life. I didn't feel the third, not before everything went black. The darkness beyond my eyelids showed me no momentary escape from my rolling prison. I found myself back on the deserted road, frantically running from the speeding Lincoln as it chased after me, spilling thick plumes of smoke while cackling madly through the grill that was filled with yellowed and jagged teeth, white and purple hair which sprouted from the roof blue in the wind as it sped towards me. I veered from the road and into the trees in hopes of evading it, but it crashed through

the trees as I darted between them. One by one it splintered through the thick bark while losing no momentum as it charged at me. I passed through the tree line and into a clearing, which would be where I would make my final stand against the beast. I stood my ground, facing back at the menacing red glow of the headlights. I bawled my fists and straightened my back in preparation for my impending doom when... My eyelids sprung back open, and I found myself still pressed against the door of the passenger seat.

The crazy old lady had returned to her seat, and I could vaguely make out her outline and the orange glow of the tip of her lit cigarette through the fog. I tried to remain silent and still, to not alert her to my being conscious. while I felt the pushing pain in my head with every beat of my heart. I adjusted my neck slightly, and I could feel the dried blood tearing from the vinyl where the door met the window. I inhaled shallow breaths in my attempts to keep my awareness unnoticed while I tried to come up with a plan on how the hell to get out of this tomb on wheels. As I noticed the old lady's silhouette moving through the smog again, I closed my eyes,

hoping to God she hadn't realized I was awake. I could smell her breath on my face and felt her only inches away from me while the tires began to veer to the left again. She wrapped her hand around my brow and gently turned my head to the left. I felt my back stiffen and I thought to keep from wincing at the pain as a bony finger dug into the wound on the back of my head. I heard the gut-wrenching sound of her licking the finger after she drew it back and drips of slobber that fell from her mouth onto my chin almost caused me to her.

give in to the burning stomach acid in my throat. Three more times she dug her finger into the gaping hole that now streamed fresh blood onto my shoulder. Of course, it could have been her thick slobber leaking from her fingertip down my neck, but whatever it was felt sticky and moist, which combined with the smell of her breath to make the growing nausea even harder to battle against. She moaned after running her tongue from my jawline to my temple. It was taking every bit of self-control I could muster to not audibly gag while the wretched

harpy continued to sniff my hair and lick my face. The trails of saliva she left in the wake of her slurps reeked as much as the smoky plumes of foul breath she kept panting. Finally she moved away from me, presumably back to her seat at the steering wheel, as I felt the car reposition itself into the proper lane. I slowly cracked my eyelids before committing to opening them fully. Once again, I could see her shadow through the fog and the burning cigarette in her mouth. She was still uttering light moans and smacking her lips together in between them.

I darted my eyes from side to side in search of any means of escape. I closed my eyes again when I heard the old bat shift in her seat, but she didn't seem to move in close to me this time. While I sat in the darkness behind my eyelids, I listened to the sounds around me again. The Hags borderline orgasmic groans were accompanied by the humming of the engine and the tires thumping across the reflectors, but it was that other sound that caught my attention, the one that had been part of the soundtrack of my journey into hell from the start. Why hadn't I thought of it sooner?

The tarp that still flapped in the wind would be my best chance of getting out of here. The biggest hiccup in my burgeoning plan was how the hell was I going to get into the back seat. I gently guided my hand down the side of the chair I sat upon. This car had a long cab, and my seat was pushed up close to the glove compartment. If I could recline the seat as far back as it could go, I may be able to access the plastic-wrapped window without having to climb into the back. My heart was hammering, and it was growing more difficult to keep my breath shallow as my fingertips hooked on to the reclining latch of my seat. I still sat sideways from the previous attack, so I brought up. braced my back against the door and prepared for the impending battle for my freedom.

I slowly reached my other hand to the seatbelt clasped in hopes of being able to release both at the same time. Before giving myself a chance to reconsider, I pulled the lever at the base of the seat, allowing the back to flop down onto the rear bench while popping the seatbelt loose. Immediately the hag wailed out, and I saw her face push through the thick cloud towards me again. With my shoulder blades still pressed against the passenger door, I whipped to the head. my right leg around and slammed my heel into her nose. I heard and felt a crack behind my boot.

The lit cigarette fell from her mouth and onto the carpeted mat on the floor. As I shuffled my body up the reclined seat back, I reached out to the plastic tarp and clawed my fingers into it, almost instantly forming the first tear. The wailing old bat charged me again, and I tried to slam my foot into her mouth, but she caught it with her outstretched hands. I kicked at her with my other foot while my hands still tore at the makeshift window. Though I felt her bones snapped behind my kicks, she appeared unfazed as she yanked the workbu off the foot she still held. Finally, I tore away enough of the tarp to easily slide my body through, but her skeletal fingers were still gripped around my ankle while she pulled my sock away. While I continued to wage

war on her face and chest with my other foot, she would not be distracted from her task. Even when a small flame began to crackle from the floorboard where her lit cigarette had landed. I screamed out in sheer terror when the haggard old woman's mouth fell unnaturally wide open, tearing the flesh of her cheeks and spilling dark ooze down her neck. When her jagged and rotten teeth slammed down around the front half of my foot, I cried out again in horrific agony as she bit into the flesh of my appendage. Feeling my heart rushed with panic, I beat harder on her face with the heel of my one remaining boot. More darkened pus was leaking down her torn cheek from my attacks on her brow, but it would not break her focus. She pulled her head back and peeled away the skin and

meat from my foot, leaving bare bone and gushing muscle tissue behind. I fought against the shock that threatened to paralyze me when the blood that spewed from the grizzled fibers allowed me to slip my ankle free of her grasp. Everything became a blur as my senses began to betray me, but Somewhere in my cluttered mind, I knew I had to continue my efforts to free myself from this horrendous beast of a woman. With one final kick directly to the mouth that still chewed on my dismembered footmeat, I pushed myself farther up the reclined seat, refusing to allow her another chance to swoop in. I wrapped my arms around the top of the open back window and pulled myself out of the speeding Lincoln. My right shoulder was the first thing to slam onto the hard concrete.

I felt it dislocate while my collar bones snapped like a dry twig. The side of my face scraped across the ground before my hip crashed down, bringing my knees cascading before me. I was aware that more bones were breaking as my body spun, and I rolled across the rough and gravelly surface until I finally came to a halt where the road met the grass. I blinked rapidly against the morning sun shining down into my eyes, which had only looked into the shadows and foggy darkness for so long before my mind faded into the black once more. By the time I came back to my senses again, I found myself strapped down and speeding across the

road once more. I was momentarily terrified that that creature had swerved back to retrieve my broken body from the ditch, but my heart settled back into place when I realized I was in an ambulance. I would find out, sometime later, that a passing driver had noticed my beating. body on the side of the highway and called some help. For the most part, my injuries could have been a lot worse. I had cracked ribs, a shattered collarbone, dislocated shoulder, and my left arm and leg were broken in multiple places.

The scrapes across my face were mostly just surface wounds, and the split on the back of my head had required about a half dozen stitches to seal shut. Other than that, my hip was bruised up pretty good, as were my elbows and knees. The doctors had a lot of questions about the front half of my foot that was missing its flesh, but I wasn't about to tell them what really happened. I highly doubted they'd believe my account of what had actually occurred, and I didn't want to risk adding a stay in a mental institution to my physical recovery. Eventually, they chalked it up to the possibility of a wild animal munching on my toes while

I lay unconscious. It wasn't all that far from the truth, really. The bite had left a pretty nasty infection, which had already grown gangreness by the time I arrived at the hospital. They ended up having to lop it off at the ankle, but it wasn't as far gone as it could have been. I'm supposed to get fitted for a prosthetic soon, so that's something at least. I imagine it'll take some getting used to, but nothing I can't handle. Between that and the months of recuperation that lay ahead, I shouldn't have any reason to get

on that goddamn road any time soon. And honestly, I'm just happy to be alive, even with one foot officially in the grave. It's only been a few days since that long trip back to the home I still have yet to reach. There's no telling when they'll allow me to get back to my house, but my sister brought a few necessities by. Amazingly, my phone didn't receive too much damage from my leap from the car, so once I got it charged a little, I was able to record this. I may end up deleting my playlist, though.

It's amazing how music can thrust your mind back to certain events in life. I don't need any extra encouragement to revisit these memories in the future. I can't say I'm entirely sure where my car led me that night. I'd love to believe it was as simple as a glitch of my phone that made time appear to trickle by at a snail's pace, but that logic leaves a lot to be desired. Is the rancid old harpies still speeding across that highway somewhere? Maybe so.

Was I in her neck of the woods, or was she in mine? Who knows? I'd like to think that the cigarette that hit the carpet ended up engulfing the car in flames by the time the ragged old hag got done with her snack. Speaking of which, I think I may be officially done with smoking. I still have some calls to make and see if my rust bucket can be recovered, but I honestly have no idea if I'll be driving anywhere in the near future. It'll be strange to get used to operating the pedals

with my left foot when I do get back behind the wheel, but I'm sure I'll get the hang of it soon enough. I'm not sure if I'm going to keep my job or search for something closer. Maybe some sort of office work would be more to my lone foot's liking. It'll likely be a while before I need to worry about that, though. Fortunately, the company I work for has fantastic insurance, plus a solid disability plan. Perhaps I can ride this out a bit and enjoy some relaxation for a while. Surely I've earned that much after all this.

Just do yourself a favor, yeah. Don't ever just ignore that check engine light like I did. There's no telling where you may find yourself stranded if you do.