Ghosts on the Road - Spine-Chilling Tales of the Night

Can't sleep? Welcome back to another bone-chilling episode of the Nighttime Scary Tales Podcast. This is where your deepest nightmares come to life. 

Tune in for a mix of spine-tingling horror fiction, terrifying paranormal encounters, and bone-rattling true crime stories that blur the line between nightmare and reality. We'll dive into the darkest corners of the supernatural, from ghostly sightings to otherworldly encounters that will leave you frozen in fear. These stories will haunt your mind far longer than that weird noise in your attic. We'll keep you on the edge of your seat, with your heart racing, as each tale tightens its grip on your imagination. After listening, we'd love to hear your thoughts—leave a review on your preferred podcast platform and let us know what sent shivers down your spine.

Subscribe so you don't miss any of the horrifying tales we have coming your way. So, sit back, unwind, and brace yourself for a chilling experience. Keep your lights on and your doors locked. Sweet dreams... 

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Welcome to another episode of the Nighttime Scary Tales Podcast, where we explore the dark side of storytelling. Tonight, prepare for spine-chilling tales featuring original horror stories, eerie supernatural encounters, and real-life crime that reveals the darker aspects of human nature. Each story is designed to keep you on the edge of your seat long after it ends. We’d love to hear your thoughts! Share your most chilling moments by leaving a review on your favorite podcast platform. More haunting stories are coming, so keep your lights on and your doors locked. Sweet dreams… if you can find them!

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:07):
I'm the kind of person who finds peace in nighttime drives.
The darkness, the empty streets, and the silence of the
sleeping world have a calming effect on me. It's like
the world pauses just for me, giving me space to think, reflect,
and enjoy the solitude. That night started like any other.
I was driving home from my friend's place, about a

(00:28):
thirty minute trip through some back roads and wooded areas,
the kind of drive that's peaceful, where you can roll
down the windows and let the cool night air in,
accompanied only by the hum of the engine and the
chirp of crickets. But that night, something was different, something
felt off. The road was unusually quiet, even for that

(00:50):
time of night, no headlights in my rear view mirror,
no cars coming from the opposite direction, just me, the
road and the trees lining the sides, their branches reaching
out like skeletal fingers. The sky was clear, a thin
sliver of moon casting a pale light over everything, but
it did little to chase away the shadows. As I
drove deeper into the woods, the trees seemed to close in,

(01:11):
their dark shapes, pressing against the sides of the road.
I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck,
standing up that instinctual warning that something wasn't right. I
shook it off, chalking it up to nerves, or maybe
just the eerie stillness of the night. But then I
heard it. At first I thought it was my imagination,
just the wind rustling through the leaves, or maybe the

(01:33):
creak of an old branch. But then it came again, clearer,
this time a scream, high pitched and desperate, cutting through
the silence like a knife. My heart skipped a beat,
and I instinctively slowed down, straining to hear. The scream
came again, a woman's voice, full of terror and pain.
It was coming from the woods, just beyond the trees.

(01:55):
I pulled over, my mind racing should I investigate, call
the police. Every instinct in me said to get out
of there. But another part of me, a stronger, more
foolish part, felt compelled to help. What if someone was
in trouble, what if she needed help. I grabbed my
phone and flashlight, stepping out of the car into the
cool night air. The forest was dark, the trees casting

(02:18):
long shadows across the ground. I could still hear the scream, faint,
but unmistakable, coming from somewhere deep within the woods. I
hesitated at the edge of the road, my pulse pounding
in my ears. Everything in me screamed to get back
in the car, to drive away and forget I ever
heard anything. But I couldn't just leave, not knowing what
was happening out there, So against my better judgment, I

(02:42):
stepped into the trees. As I walked deeper into the woods,
the scream grew louder. I tried to follow the sound,
my flashlight illuminating the darkness ahead, but the beam seemed
weak against the inky blackness that surrounded me. The trees
were thick, their branches brushing against me like cold fingers,
and the ground was uneven, littered with fallen leaves and

(03:04):
twigs that crunched underfoot. The farther I went, the more
I questioned my decision. I wasn't a hero, just an
ordinary guy who liked night drives and quiet moments. What
was I doing wandering into the woods in the middle
of the night. But the scream kept pulling me forward,
driving me deeper into the forest, and then suddenly it stopped.

(03:26):
The silence was deafening, the abrupt absence of sound more
terrifying than the scream itself. I stood there, frozen, my
heart racing as I scanned the trees with my flashlight,
but there was nothing, just the darkness and the oppressive
stillness of the woods. A wave of fear washed over me,
cold and paralyzing. What if this was a trap? What

(03:46):
if someone was luring me into the woods for some
sinister purpose. My mind raced with possibilities, each one more
horrifying than the last. I could feel my breath quicken,
my hands shaking as I gripped the flashlight. Then out
of the silence, I heard it again, a soft, almost
imperceptible sound, like a whisper, carried on the wind. I

(04:07):
strained to listen, turning slowly on the spot, and then
I heard it clearly. It was behind me. I spun around,
the flashlight beams slicing through the darkness, but there was
nothing there, just trees and shadows. But the whisper continued closer,
now brushing against my ear like a cold breath. Help me.
The voice was soft, pleading, and I felt a chill

(04:29):
run down my spine. It was the same voice that
had screamed, but now it was different, less desperate, more insistent,
as if it was trying to draw me closer. The
normalcy of the night drive had completely evaporated, replaced by
an overwhelming sense of dread. I was no longer in control,
no longer enjoying the solitude. Now I was trapped in

(04:50):
a nightmare, a dark and twisted version of the piece
I had sought. I started to back away, my instincts
screaming at me to run, to get out of the
woods before it was too late, but the voice followed me,
growing louder, more urgent. Help me. I couldn't see her,
but I could feel her presence close and menacing. The

(05:10):
flashlight beam flickered, and for a brief moment, I thought
I saw a shadowy figure just at the edge of
the light, but when I focused, it was gone. The
whisper grew more insistent, the voice taking on a sharper,
more demanding tone. Help me. My blood turned to ice.
The voice was no longer pleading, it was threatening. I
could feel the cold breath on my neck, sending shivers

(05:32):
down my spine. I turned and ran, stumbling over roots
and fallen branches, desperate to get back to my car,
but the voice didn't let up. It followed me, hissing
in my ear, each word dripping with malice. Help me,
I need you. I broke through the trees the road
just ahead. My car parked where I'd left it, But
the voice was right behind me, now right so close.

(05:54):
I could feel the breath on my skin, icy and sharp.
Help me, or you'll never leave. I reached the car,
fumbling with the keys, my hands shaking so badly, I
could barely get the door open. The whisper was in
my ear, now cold and venomous, wrapping around my mind
like a noose. Help me, or you'll regret it. I
finally managed to get the door open and threw myself inside,

(06:16):
slamming it shut behind me. My heart was pounding, my
breath coming in ragged gasps. I locked the doors, like
turning the key in the ignition, praying the engine would start.
For a moment, nothing happened. The car was dead, the
engine refusing to turn over. And then, out of the
corner of my eye, I saw it a figure standing
at the edge of the woods, just beyond the reach

(06:37):
of the headlights. It was a woman, or at least
something that looked like a woman. Her face was obscured,
hidden in the shadows, but I could feel her eyes
on me, burning with anger and hatred. And then she
started to move, gliding toward the car with unnatural speed.
The engine roared to life, and I slammed my foot
on the gas, the tires screeching as iled out onto

(07:00):
the road. The figure disappeared from view, swallowed by the darkness,
but the voice stayed with me, echoing in my mind,
Help me, or you'll never leave. I drove faster than
I ever had before, the road a blur of trees
and shadows. The voice slowly faded, replaced by the roar
of the engine and the pounding of my heart, but

(07:21):
the fear remained, a cold not in the pit of
my stomach. I didn't stop until I reached my driveway,
the safety of home finally within reach, But even as
I stepped inside, locking the door behind me, I couldn't
shake the feeling that something had followed me, something dark
and malevolent. I collapsed on the couch, my hands still shaking,

(07:41):
my mind racing with what I had experienced. What was she?
Why had she called out to me? And what would
have happened if I hadn't run. I turned on the TV,
hoping to drown out the lingering fear with the comforting
noise of the world, But the news only deepened my dread.
Woman body had been found in the woods that night,

(08:02):
just a few miles from where I had been. The
details were scarce, but the reporter mentioned something that made
my blood run cold. She had been found alone, her
body cold and stiff, her face twisted in terror. The
story ended with a request for anyone with information to
come forward, but I knew I wouldn't be one of them.
What could I say that I heard her screams, followed

(08:24):
them into the woods, and then ran like a coward
when I felt her presence. No, I kept my mouth shut,
but the fear didn't go away. It lingered, a dark
shadow at the edge of my thoughts, whispering in the
back of my mind. Help me, or you'll regret it.
I haven't driven that road since, and I never will.
But every now and then, when I'm alone in the dark,

(08:46):
I think I hear her voice again, soft and distant,
calling me back, help me. And I know deep down
that if I ever listen, if I ever go back,
I'll never leave. People often say I'm good at judging
character and reading others. It's a skill I've developed over

(09:09):
the years as a traveling salesman, driving from town to town,
meeting strangers from all walks of life. I've had my
fair share of strange encounters, but nothing could have prepared
me for what happened that night on the highway. It
was late around midnight, and I was on my way
back from a business trip in a small town about

(09:30):
three hours from home. The road was long and empty,
stretching out into the dark night, the monotony of the
road and the hum of the tires lulling me into
a kind of trance. My only company was the occasional
flicker of headlights from an oncoming car and the soft
murmur of the radio playing some old rock song I
barely paid attention to. The night was calm, the sky clear,

(09:53):
with a full moon casting a pale glow over the landscape.
I was about halfway home when I saw him, a
figure standing on the side of the road that his
thumb outstretched in that universal gesture of desperation. He was
a young man, probably in his early twenties, with a
backpack slung over one shoulder and a look of weariness.
Etched into his features. His clothes were dirty, his hair disheveled,

(10:17):
and there was a shadow of stubble on his face.
But what struck me most was his eyes, dark, sunken,
with a haunted look that made me hesitate, but only
for a moment. I wasn't in a hurry, and the
road was deserted. Something in me, maybe a sense of pity,
maybe just the desire to break the monotony of the drive,
compelled me to pull over. Where are you headed, I

(10:39):
asked as he approached the passenger side window. Anywhere but here,
he replied, his voice flat, emotionless. I should have taken
that as a warning, but I didn't. I unlocked the door,
and he climbed in, tossing his backpack onto the floor
between his feet. Thanks, he muttered, barely looking at me,
No problem, I said of thy, forcing a smile. Rough night.

(11:02):
You could say that we drove in silence for a while,
the only sound the steady hum of the engine and
the faint crackle of the radio. The guy didn't say much,
just stared out the window, his fingers drumming a nervous
rhythm on his knee. I tried to make small talk
asking him where he was from, where he was headed,
but his answers were short, vague, just passing through, he'd say,

(11:25):
or nowhere in particular. Something about him made me uneasy,
but I couldn't put my finger on it. Maybe it
was the way he avoided eye contact, or the way
he seemed to flinch at every sound, every bump in
the road, or maybe it was the way he kept
glancing in the side head mirror, as if expecting to
see someone or something following us. I've picked up hitchhikers before,

(11:48):
mostly college kids or drifters looking for a ride to
the next town. They're usually talkative, grateful for the lift,
eager to share their stories. But this guy, he was different.
There was a tension of it out him, a kind
of quiet intensity that made the hairs on the back
of my neck stand up. I tried to shake it off,
telling myself I was just being paranoid. It was late,

(12:09):
I was tired, and the guy was probably just having
a rough night. But the unease wouldn't go away. It
gnawed at me, growing stronger with every mile. And then
he started to talk. It's funny, you know, he said,
his voice low, almost a whisper, how things can change
so quickly. One minute you're fine, everything's normal, and the
next everything's different, everything's wrong. There was something in his

(12:34):
tone that sent a chill down my spine. I glanced
at him, trying to read his expression, but he was
facing the passenger window. Yeah, I said, not knowing what
else to say. Life can be unpredictable. He let out
a soft, humorless laugh. Unpredictable, that's one way to put it.
We lapsed into silence again. The tension in the car
was thicker now. I could feel my pulse quickening, my

(12:57):
hands tightening on the steering wheel. Something was wrong, very wrong,
but I couldn't figure out what. And then he turned
to me, his eyes locking onto mine. You ever wonder
what it's like to die? The question hit me like
a punch to the gut. My mind rased trying to
process what he just said. I forced a laugh, trying
to keep the mood light, but my voice came out shaky, uncertain.

(13:21):
I guess I haven't really thought about it, I said,
my mouth dry. He didn't respond right away, just kept
staring at me with those dark, hollow eyes, and then,
in a voice so quiet I almost didn't hear it,
he said, I have my heart skipped a beat. I
glanced at him, trying to gauge his mood, trying to
figure out if he was messing with me or if
he was serious. But his expression was unreadable, his face

(13:45):
a mask of calm. I've thought about it a lot,
he continued, his voice barely above a whisper, about how
it would feel, what it would be like to just
let go. The air in the car grew colder, the
silence pressing in around us. I could feel my heart
pounding in my chest, my palms slick with sweat. I
didn't know what to say, didn't know how to respond.

(14:07):
All I knew was that I wanted him out of
my car now. But before I could say anything, he
spoke again. I used to be like you, he said,
his tone wistful, normal, happy, had a good job, a family,
everything I could ever want. But then something happened, something
that changed everything. I swallowed hard, my throat tight. What happened?

(14:27):
He smiled, but it was a cold, empty smile, devoid
of any warmth. I died. The words hung in the air,
heavy with meaning. My mind raced, trying to make sense
of what he was saying, but nothing made sense. Was
he speaking metaphorically or was he serious? I didn't have
time to think before he continued. It wasn't quick, he said,
his voice growing softer, more distant. It was slow, painful.

(14:52):
I could feel everything, every moment, every sensation, the fear,
the pain, the darkness. It was like being trapped in
a nightmare you can't wait up from. I glanced at him,
and for a split second I thought I saw something
in his eyes, a flicker of pain, of fear. But
it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by
that same cold, empty stare. And then it was over,

(15:14):
he said, his voice flat, emotionless, and I was different.
I wasn't the same person anymore. Something inside me had changed,
something dark, something wrong. My breath caught in my throat,
my mind racing. This guy, whoever he was, was clearly disturbed.
But there was something else, something in the way he spoke,
in the way he looked at me that made me

(15:35):
believe he was telling the truth, and that terrified me.
I wanted to stop the car, to pull over and
tell him to get out, but I couldn't. My hands
were frozen on the steering wheel, my body paralyzed by fear.
All I could do was keep driving, the road stretching
out before us. You know what the worst part is,
he asked, his voice barely audible. I shook my head,

(15:57):
not trusting myself to speak. The worst part is you
never really leave. You're stuck in that moment, that place forever,
and no matter how far you run, no matter how
hard you try, you can't escape it. I swallowed hard,
my heart pounding in my chest. What do you mean?
He turned to me, his eyes locking onto mine, and

(16:17):
for the first time, I saw a flicker of something
in his expression. Desperation, fear, anger. You can't escape, he said,
his voice rising. No matter how fast you drive, no
matter how far you go, it's always there waiting for you,
watching you, ready to take you back. The tension in
the car was unbearable, the air thick with fear and uncertainty.

(16:40):
I didn't know what to do, didn't know how to
get out of this situation. All I knew was that
I needed to get away from him now. But before
I could say anything, he leaned in closer, his breath
hot on my neck. Do you want to know what
it feels like? He whispered, his voice dripping with malice.
Do you want to know what it's like to die?
My breath caught in my throat, my body trembling with fear.

(17:03):
I couldn't speak, couldn't move. All I could do was
sit there, frozen in terror, as he reached out, his hand,
hovering just inches from my arm, and then, without warning,
he started to laugh. It was a cold, empty laugh,
devoid of any joy or humor. It sent shivers down
my spine, made my blood run cold. I wanted to scream,

(17:23):
to shove him out of the car, but I couldn't.
I was trapped, trapped in this nightmare with no way out.
And then, just as suddenly as it had started, the
laughter stopped. He leaned back in his seat, his expression calm,
almost serene. Don't worry, he said, his voice soft, almost gentle.
It's not your time yet. I didn't know what to say,

(17:45):
didn't know how to respond. All I knew was that
I needed to get out of this situation fast. So
I did the only thing I could think of. I
slammed on the brakes. The car screeched to a halt,
the tires skidding on the pavement. Before he could react,
I threw open the door and bolted, running as fast
as I could into the night. I didn't look back,
didn't stop, my heart pounding, my breath ragged. When I

(18:07):
finally stopped, I collapsed on the side of the road,
my body trembling with fear. And when I looked back,
he was gone. The car was empty. His words, his laughter,
they stayed with me, haunting me. Even now, I can
still hear him whispering in my ear, telling me that
it's not over, not yet. The night was cold, too

(18:36):
cold for the early autumn that had been unusually miled
up up until then. My breath fogged up the windshield
as I drove down that desolate highway, the truck's heater
working overtime to keep the chill at bay. I had
been driving for hours, my destination, a remote cabin nestled
in the mountains, a weekend get away with some friends.

(18:56):
The road was winding, stretching out like a dark ribbon
through the dense forest, and I hadn't seen another car
for miles. There was a certain comfort in the isolation,
the sense that I was truly alone out here, away
from the noise and bustle of the city. But as
the road twisted and turned, that comfort began to wear thin,
replaced by a growing sense of unease. It was the

(19:20):
kind of road where the darkness seemed to press in
from all sides, the headlights barely penetrating the thick veil
of night. And that's when the truck started to overheat.
At first, it was just a flicker on the dashboard,
the temperature gage creeping up into the red. I frowned,
my grip tightening on the steering wheel. As I glanced down,

(19:40):
the needle was climbing steadily, a small warning that something
was wrong. Great, I muttered, glancing at the dashboard. The
truck was old, but it had never given me much
trouble before. I figured it was probably just the long drive,
the strain of climbing the mountain roads in the cold.
But as the temperature game continued to rise, I knew

(20:01):
I couldn't ignore it any longer. I slowed the truck
to a crawl, looking for a place to pull over.
The road was narrow, blank by thick trees on either side.
Eventually I found a small turnout, barely wide enough for
the truck, and pulled over. The engine was hissing steam
billowing out from under the hood. As I stepped out
into the cold night air, the wind cut through my jacket,

(20:24):
biting into my skin. As I popped the hood and
was greeted by a wave of heat. The engine was
practically glowing, the metal shimmering with the intensity of the
heat trapped beneath it. I grabbed a rag from the
back of the truck and carefully twisted the radiator cap,
releasing a plume of steam that rose into the night

(20:44):
like a ghostly apparition. The smell of anti freeze was
sharp in the air, a pungent reminder of the trouble
I was in. I waited for the engine to cool,
the minutes, stretching out in the silence. The woods around
me were unnervingly quiet. The only sound the faint rustle
of leaves in the wind. I tried to shake off

(21:04):
the feeling of unease that had settled in my chest,
but it clung to me, gnawing at the edges of
my thoughts. After what felt like an eternity, I finally
felt it was safe to top off the radiator. I
reached for the jug of coolant I kept in the
truck bed, but as I did something caught my eye,
a flash of movement in the trees. I froze the

(21:24):
coolant jug halfway to the radiator. My eyes scanned the
tree line, but there was nothing there, just shadows and darkness,
the trees swaying gently in the wind. I shook my head,
telling myself it was just my imagination, the isolation playing
tricks on me. But as I poured the coolant into
the radiator, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was

(21:45):
being watched. The kind of trouble I was in wasn't uncommon.
Anyone who spent enough time on the road knows that
breakdowns happen, usually at the most inconvenient times. I had
been in situations like this before, stranded on the the
road in the middle of nowhere. But something about this
felt different, more unsettling. Maybe it was the cold or

(22:08):
the darkness that seemed to press in on me from
all sides, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I
wasn't alone out here. I finished topping off the radiator,
my hands shaking slightly as I screwed the cap back on.
I needed to get out of here. The truck was old,
but it should hold together long enough to make it
to the cabin. I slammed the hood shut, glancing nervously

(22:30):
at the trees, half expecting to see something lurking in
the shadows. Nothing. I climbed back into the truck, my
breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. The engine rumbled awake,
but the sound did little to calm my nerves. I
glanced at the temperature gage, still in the red but
holding steady. I needed to keep moving to get out
of this stretch of road and back onto the main highway.

(22:54):
But as I pulled back onto the road, I couldn't
shake the feeling that something was following me. Every so
often I would catch a glimpse of movement in the
rear view mirror, a shadow darting between the trees, too
fast to be human. My heart pounded in my chest,
the adrenaline surging through my veins. As I pressed down
on the accelerator. The truck picked up speed, but the

(23:17):
temperature gage began to climb again, the engines straining against
the cold, and then I saw it, a figure standing
in the middle of the road. I slammed on the brakes,
the truck skidding to a stop just inches from the figure.
My heart leaped into my throat as I stared at
the man standing in the road, illuminated by the headlights.

(23:38):
He was tall, dressed in a dark coat, his face
obscured by a hood pulled low over his eyes. For
a moment, we just stared at each other, the truck
idling in the middle of the road. My mind raced,
trying to make sense of what I was seeing. Who
was he? What was he doing out here in the
middle of nowhere on a freezing night like this? And

(23:59):
then he took a step forward forward, his hand reaching
out toward the truck. My instincts screamed at me to
hit the gas, to get out of there as fast
as I could. I rolled down the window, just a crack,
the cold air rushing in. Do you need help, I
called out, my voice shaking. He didn't respond. He just
stood there, his hand still outstretched, as if waiting for something.

(24:21):
My mind raced with possibilities. Was he lost, hurt? Or
was this some kind of trap? The figure took another
step forward, and I could see his face now pale
and drawn, his eyes hollow and lifeless. Something wasn't right.
I'm sorry, I muttered, rolling the window back up. And
putting the truck in gear. But before I could hit

(24:42):
the gas, the man's hands slapped against the window, his
face inches from the glass. His eyes locked onto mine,
and I felt a cold dread settle in my gut.
There was something wrong with him, something inhuman. Please, he rasped,
his voice, barely audible over the roar of the engine,
Help me. The plea sent a shiver down my spine.
His voice was weak, desperate, but there was something else

(25:05):
in it, something that set off every alarm in my head.
I needed to get out of there now. I floored
the gas pedal, the truck lurching forward, but the man
didn't move. His hands scraped across the window, leaving a
streak of dirt. As the truck sped away, I glanced
in the rear view mirror, expecting to see him standing
in the road e but he was gone. My heart

(25:28):
pounded in my chest as I tore down the road,
my eyes flicking between the mirror and the road ahead.
The trees blurred past, the headlights cutting through the darkness,
but I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched.
The road twisted and turned, the truck straining to keep
up with the steep inclines. The temperature gauge was back
in the red, the engine making a terrible rattling sound,

(25:50):
but I didn't care. I had to get as far
away from that man as I could. But then I
saw him again. He was standing at the edge of
the road, just beyond the reach of the headlights. I swerved,
nearly losing control of the truck as I sped past him,
but when I glanced in the mirror, he wasn't there.
I slammed on the brakes, the truck skidding to a

(26:12):
stop in the middle of the road. My heart was racing,
my breath coming in ragged gasps. I was losing it.
There was no way he could have gotten there so fast.
It didn't make any sense. But when I looked back,
he was standing in the road right behind the truck.
Panics surged through me, and I hit the gas, the
truck roaring to life. I didn't look back this time.

(26:34):
I couldn't. The trees flew past the road a blur
as I raced to put as much distance between me
and that man as possible. I drove for what felt
like hours, the truck groaning under the strain. The temperature
gauge was maxed out, the engine on the verge of overheating.
But I couldn't stop, not until I was sure I
was far away from that man. Finally, I saw the

(26:56):
lights of a small town up ahead, a welcome sight
in the darkness. I pulled into the first gas station.
I saw the truck sputtering to a halt as I
cut the engine. I sat there for a moment, my
hands gripping the steering wheel, my heart still pounding in
my chest. I didn't know what had just happened, but
I knew one thing. I was never driving that road again,
at least not at night. As I stepped out of

(27:19):
the truck, I glanced back at the road. The trees
loomed over the asphalt, their branches swaying in the wind.
For a moment, I thought I saw something, a figure
standing at the edge of the trees, watching me, But
when I blinked, it was gone. I never found out
who or what that man was, but I knew one
thing for sure, I wasn't going back to find out.

(27:49):
Summer nights were perfect for a late night drive, something
I'd always loved, the cool air filtering through the open windows,
The steady hum of the tires and the way everything
seemed to slow down made it all feel so peaceful.
My girlfriend, Natalie, was less enthusiastic, but she indulged me.
On this particular night, we were winding down a dirt

(28:11):
road that cut through the dense woods near her family's farmhouse.
It was late, nearly midnight, and the road was empty.
We hadn't seen another car for miles. The moon was
a pale sliver in the sky, barely visible through the
thick canopy of trees that loomed over us. The only
light came from the headlights carving a path ahead. Why
do you always insist on these creepy back roads, Natalie asked,

(28:35):
her voice breaking the silence. She was leaning back in
her seat, arms crossed over her chest, her expression half amused,
half annoyed, Because they're peaceful, I replied, glancing at her
with a grin. And it's not creepy, just quiet. It's creepy,
she said, but there was a playful tone in her voice,

(28:55):
like something out of a horror movie. I laughed, but
I couldn't deny there was a certain eeriness to the place.
The trees were so thick, the darkness so complete it
felt like we were driving through a tunnel. The road
was narrow, barely wide enough for one car, and the
underbrush on either side seemed to close in on us,
as if the forest were trying to swallow us whole.

(29:17):
As we drove, the road twisted and turned, the gravel
crunching under the tires. The headlights swept across the trees,
casting long shadows that danced and flickered in the corners
of my vision. Every now and then I'd catch a
glimpse of something, Just a shadow, I told myself, but
it was enough to make me grip the steering wheel
a little tighter. Natalie shifted in her seat, reaching over

(29:40):
to turn down the radio. The music had been playing
softly in the background, but now it felt out of place,
too cheerful for the oppressive darkness surrounding us. Let's just
get to the cabin, she said, her voice quieter now,
as if she didn't want to disturb the stillness. I nodded,
focusing on the road ahead. We were about twenty minutes

(30:01):
away from the farmhouse, a cozy little place Natalie's family
had owned for years. We'd spent many weekends there hiking, fishing,
just getting away from it all. But the road to
the farmhouse was always the worst part. Long winding and
completely isolated. We continued driving in silence, the only sound
the rumble of the truck's engine and the crunch of

(30:22):
gravel under the tires. The road seemed to stretch on forever,
the trees growing denser, the darkness deeper. I could feel
the tension building in the air, a quiet unease that
settled over us like a heavy blanket. And then, out
of nowhere, the truck's headlights caught something on the side
of the road. It was a man. At first, I

(30:44):
thought it was just a tree or a large bush,
but as we got closer, I realized it was a man,
standing perfectly still at the edge of the road, just
beyond the reach of the headlights. He was wearing a
dark jacket, the hood pulled up over his head, and
he was standing so still. I almost didn't believe he
was real. Did you see that, Natalie whispered, her voice
barely audible. Yeah, I said, My heart's starting to race.

(31:07):
I saw him. I slowed the truck to a crawl,
and my eyes locked on the figure in the darkness.
As we drew nearer. The man didn't move. He just
stood there, watching us, his face hidden in the shadows.
A shiver ran down my spine. Something about the way
he stood there, so still, so silent, made the hair

(31:27):
on the back of my neck stand on end. There
was something wrong about him, something that made me want
to slam on the gas and get the hell out
of there. But instead I did something stupid. I rolled
down the window. Hey, I called out, my voice, shaky,
are you okay. For a moment, there was no response.
The man just stood there, his back to us, and

(31:48):
then slowly he turned his head towards us. I couldn't
see his eyes, but I could feel them on me,
cold and empty. Let's go, Natalie said, her voice trembling, Please,
Let's just go. I hesitated for a moment longer, something
compelling me to stay, to see what this man wanted.
But the look on Natalie's face, the fear in her eyes,
snapped me out of it. I nodded, rolling up the

(32:11):
window and pressing down on the gas. The truck lurched forward,
the headlights sweeping past the man. As we sped down
the road. I glanced in the rear view mirror half
expecting to see him standing in the middle of the
road watching us leave. But he was gone. We drove
in silence for a few minutes, the tension between us
thick enough to cut with a knife. My hands were shaking,

(32:33):
my mind racing with a thousand questions. Who was that man?
What was he doing out here in the middle of nowhere,
so late at night, and more importantly, where did he go?
I don't like this, Natalie said, breaking the silence. Something's
not right that guy. He didn't feel normal. I know,
I said, trying to keep my voice steady. But he's gone.

(32:55):
Now We're almost at the farmhouse. Will be fine. But
even as I said, I didn't believe it. The road
seemed to stretch on forever, the trees pressing in on
us from all sides. The darkness was so complete it
felt like we were the only two people left in
the world. The only light came from the truck's headlights,
carving a path through the night. And then, just as

(33:17):
I was starting to relax, something caught my eye, a
flash of movement in the trees. Did you see that,
I asked, my voice tight see what? Natalie replied, her
eyes wide with fear. I don't know, I said, my
heart pounding in my chest. Something in the trees. I
think it was that guy. Natalie's hand tightened on the
arm rest. Are you sure, no, I admitted, But we're

(33:40):
not stopping to find out. We drove faster, the truck
bouncing over the rough road. The trees blurred past, the
darkness growing thicker, more oppressive. I kept my eyes on
the road, but I couldn't shake the feeling that we
were being followed, that the man was out there somewhere
watching us. Every now and then i'd catch a glimpse
of something, a shadow, a flash of movement, but when

(34:02):
I looked, there was nothing there. It was like the
woods were playing tricks on me, distorting reality, making me
see things that weren't there. But deep down I knew
it wasn't just my imagination. There was something out there,
something that shouldn't be Did you hear that, Natalie asked suddenly,
her voice barely a whisper. I strained my ears listening.

(34:26):
At first, there was nothing but the sound of the
engine and the wind rushing past the windows. But then
I heard it, a faint rustling, like something moving through
the underbrush. My grip tightened on the steering wheel, my
heart racing. I glanced at Natalie, and the look on
her face told me she heard it too. Don't stop,
she whispered, Just keep driving. I nodded, pressing down on

(34:48):
the gas. But no matter how fast we went, the
sound seemed to follow us, growing louder, closer, and then,
out of nowhere, something darted across the road. I swerved
narrowly missing whatever it was, my heart leaping into my throat.
I glanced in the rear view mirror, expecting to see
the man standing in the road, but there was nothing,

(35:08):
just darkness. Let's just get to the farmhouse, Natalie said,
her voice trembling. We'll be safe there. I didn't argue.
I just kept driving, the truck, roaring down the narrow road.
The farmhouse wasn't far now. Just a few more minutes
and we'd be safe. But the fear gnawed at me,
a cold, heavy weight in the pit of my stomach.

(35:29):
We pulled into the driveway, the farmhouse's porch light a
welcome sight in the darkness. I parked the truck, but
neither of us moved. We just sat there, the engine idling,
the silence pressing in around us. Do you think he's
still out there, Natalie asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
I don't know, I admitted, but we're not going to

(35:49):
find out. We hurried inside, locking the door behind us.
The house was warm, cozy, but I couldn't shake the
feeling that something was wrong, that we weren't alone. We
spent the rest of the night huddled together on the couch,
listening to the wind howling outside. Every creek, every rustle
made my heart race, convinced that the man from the
woods was out there, watching, waiting. But morning came and

(36:14):
the sun rose, and the fear slowly ebbed away. We
never saw the man again, but the memory of that
night stayed with us, and even now, whenever I drive
that road, I can't help a glance into the woods,
half expecting to see him standing there, watching me. But
he's never there. If these stories sent shivers down your spine,
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(36:36):
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