February 3, 2025 • 19 mins
Step into the eerie world of late-night gas stations with these two unsettling true tales: 1️⃣ The Nightshift Visitor: A lone gas station attendant continuously hears strange noises while working the night shift alone. 2️⃣ Don't Look Inside: A helpful stranger comes to the aid of a peculiar couple whose cryptic warning about their car leads to a haunting discovery. These chilling stories will make you think twice about stopping for gas after dark. Tune in for an unforgettable dose of terror! you can also enjoy via youtube.
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Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:05):
I work at a gas station in the backwoods of Tennessee,
and that's where this happened last night. When I clocked
in at eight p m, the store was completely dead.
I figured it was going to be a pretty easy
night because the road this station is on is not
a main road. It used to be until about a
(00:25):
decade ago when the new freeway was built. This led
basically every business that was here to pack up and
leave their old building abandoned. Thanks to this, there are
a lot of abandoned buildings on this stretch of road
that local squatters tend to claim as their own. Anyway,
at around eleven p M, I only had an hour
(00:47):
of my shift left, and I figured I should actually
get some work done instead of just sitting around and
doing nothing. I'm eighteen and I work the shift alone,
which is nice because it means I can do pretty
much whatever I want as long as I get what
I need to get done finished. I noticed we were
almost out of barbecue chips, and so I need to
(01:09):
go get them from our storage space, which is, for
some reason, in the basement of the station. I've always
hated going down there because it gives me the creeps.
Why the owner decided to store everything down there is
beyond my comprehension. I got about half way down the
steps before something fell on the other side of the
(01:31):
room and it sounded like footsteps coming my way. I
sprinted up the stairs and locked the door to the basement,
panicking like a madman the entire time. I went behind
the counter to the store computer so I could check
the security cameras. I flicked over to the one that
looks into the basement and there was this guy just
(01:52):
standing there, smiling up into the camera. He had a
look of absolute insanity in his eyes, but he didn't
look like the average junkie in the area. He was
clean shaven and dressed in what looked to be jeans
and a button up of some kind. Honestly, if he'd
walked into the store, I wouldn't have batted an eye.
(02:16):
But because he was down there and he was just
looking into the camera smiling, it shook me to my core.
I called the store owner, and at first he was
pretty mad that I called him in the middle of
the night, but once he heard how freaked out I was,
his tone changed. He told me he'd be there in
fifteen minutes and to lock the main door to the
(02:38):
store and make sure the man didn't go anywhere. I
asked if I should call the police, but for some
reason he didn't want me to do that just yet.
I locked the entrance to the gas station and went
back to looking at the security camera. The man was
still there, just smiling up at me. About three or
(02:59):
so minutes of him staring at me later, he walked
out a view of the camera. My boss showed up
soon after, armed with a shotgun, and when I let
him inside, he immediately went to the basement. I followed
because it felt safer with another person, but we didn't
find anything. My boss ultimately chucked this up to me
(03:22):
being tired and hallucinating the man, but I know what
I saw. This has me scared shitless as I clock
back into work in a few hours, and I'm really
dreading it. I was there for three years. The station
(03:47):
had an auto shop attached, but it was rarely needed
at night, so I typically just dealt with people coming
in for gas. Occasionally, I'd be asked to work on
a car overnight from the day shift. One time, I
found several bags of heroin leaking out from the driver's seat.
I was nervous the owners would know I saw it,
(04:08):
so I stuffed the bags back in. The station was
out on a country road, so the types of customers
I generally served were truckers or farmers, or the random
couple driving home from a date. However, there were the
anomalies the car accidents. I saw a drunk driver step
(04:30):
out of a blazing inferno and die in the middle
of the road. One time I served gas to someone
who was being chased by the police. Of course I
didn't know that at the time. I just thought he
was in a hurry. I've also been robbed at gunpoint twice.
It was the same two sche masked guys too, They
(04:52):
just took turns speaking between the two incidents. Then there
was the time an old guy drove up, got out
of his car, and died of a heart attack two
steps later. Those incidents were normal, or at least understandable explainable,
But there was one night something unexplainable happened. It was
(05:17):
shortly after three a m. When headlights drove in with
a thin trail of smoke coming from under the hood
of the car. The inside of the windows were all
fogged up, so I couldn't really see the interior or
the occupants. The car drove past the station and right
to the auto shop. The lights weren't even on inside,
(05:38):
but the headlights lit it up. I went to greet
the driver and flipped on the overhead lights of the shop,
but they came on weak and dim. The driver's side
door opened as I approached, and I was immediately hit
with the stench of old, damp cloth and dust. A
(05:58):
middle aged man got out uneasily, like his knees were
made of twigs. He wore one of those black Quaker
hats with dark hair spiking from under it and a
graying goatee. The man's face was covered in lines and wrinkles,
and his eyes sunk into his head. He looked like
he hadn't slept in daze, checked the oil, check the engine.
(06:23):
He choked out and walked past me, fumbling out an
old box of matches. The passenger door closed and a
middle aged woman stood there. She had thick, dark hair
that looked like it was greased through with jel and
matted to her head. An uneven set of bangs cut
across her forehead. The woman carried the same sunken in
(06:46):
eyes as the man, but her face was covered in
day's old makeup, rosy cheeks, blue eyeliner, red lipstick. Even
through the smearing, you could tell it was applied with
heavy exaggeration. The woman smiled at me, but I wish
she hadn't. Her teeth were dirty orange and speckled with
(07:08):
black dots. Her gums were dark gray. Her lips stretched
and curved downward like a catfish. It was a strange
and frightening smile, like it was pulled and stretched over
a screaming face. The woman began speaking to me, but
she spoke so softly I couldn't hear her At first.
(07:32):
I kept leaning forward, trying to get a better ear,
but the closer I got, the further her voice sounded.
Then we were only inches from each other's faces. Her
breath was rancid as she spoke, and I finally heard
what she was saying. Don't go in the car. The
(07:55):
woman pulled back and I saw the scream behind the
smile in her eyes. Joan, the driver was outside of
the auto shop lighting up a home rolled cigarette. The
woman Joan, followed him. She looked back, continuing to smile,
but her eyes told a story of desperation and horror.
(08:18):
They gave me chills, and I was happy the two
were going to wait outside. I watched the strange couple
walk down to the edge of the gas station, where
it made up the corner of a quiet country intersection.
I turned to the car, not really sure what to do.
After I couldn't get under the hood. I figured there
(08:38):
was a release latch under the steering wheel. I went
to the driver's side door and saw the window was down.
I leaned in through the window and searched and fumbled
until I found a latch. I flicked it open and
saw the hood pop up. As I was pulling myself out,
a thought struck me. The window was up when the
man drove in, and it up when he walked off.
(09:02):
How did it get down? Then my eyes caught the
rear view mirror and what was in the back seat.
There was a little boy staring at me. He sat
calmly in the middle seat with his seat belt on.
He had a strange, swirling facial scar that reminded me
of a boy I went to grade school with, named
(09:24):
Johnny Walkins. He'd been attacked by a dog when he
was little, and large portions of his face were horrendously scarred.
That's what this boy looked like. And he had something
that looked like mud and dirt smeared around his mouth
and chin, the same smears on his hands and wrists.
The boy wore old, dirty overalls and a flannel shirt underneath.
(09:49):
His eyes were locked on me. They carried an accusatory glare,
like he was catching me stealing. Hey, buddy, I quick
blurted out, I'm just checking the engine. Then I'll get
you and your parents on the way. The boy stared back,
his brow furrowed at the center angrily. They're not my parents,
(10:13):
he croaked out. Then he started to make a strange sound.
I couldn't tell what it was at first, but then
it became clear the boy was laughing in his own
odd way. It was like his breath was hitching up
repeatedly during the inhale. I didn't know what to do
(10:33):
or say, so I pulled myself out of the window
and made my way to the hood. I looked out
and saw Joan and the man were still at the corner,
smoking and arguing. At the hood, I was greeted with
a cloud of smoke. When I stared down at the engine.
I had no idea what to make of it. It
looked foreign but also home made. It was all connected
(10:56):
and had metal plates fastened around it, protecting parts of
the wiring and cables, so it was next to impossible
to see what was wrong. I honestly didn't know what
the hell I was looking at, but I managed to
find what looked like a small handle for a dipstick,
and I twisted and pulled it out. It was for
the oil. I cleaned it, put it back in, and
(11:19):
pulled it to inspect, basically dry. The little oil at
the end felt gritty. It needed a change. The car
was parked over our lift, so I didn't have to
get in to move it, but I couldn't leave the
kid inside. He had to get out, safety precautions and all.
(11:39):
I went back to the driver's side window, but the
window was back up again. I tried to open the door,
but it was locked. I went to the passenger side
and found it to be locked too. I peered in
through the dirty windows to try to signal to the
boy to open the door, but the back seat was empty.
(12:00):
The entire car was empty. The boy was gone. The
only explanation I could come up with was that the
back seats of the car pulled down and allowed access
to the trunk. So I checked the trunk, but it
was also locked. I knocked on it, trying to get
the boy's attention if he was inside, but nothing came back.
(12:24):
I looked outside, but I couldn't see the man or jone.
I was confused and nervous, and all I could think
to do was explain that our lift wasn't working, so
they'd need to get their oil changed at another shop
in the next few days, and I'd send them on
their way. A loud clunking noise made me jump. On
(12:46):
the other side of the garage, a loose wrench was
on the ground. I walked over to it and picked
it up. It had a small child sized muddy handprint
on it, and suddenly the boy's laugh echoed out from
somewhere in the garage. I raised the wrench to swing,
(13:07):
but there was nothing to swing at. The loud metal
rattling of the front retracting door slamming shut made me yell.
Then the retracting metal doors at the back slammed shut too.
At this point I figured the kid was messing with me,
so I called out to him, telling him playtime was
over and to come on out. Then the lights went out.
(13:31):
The garage was completely black. Not a single window could
be seen. I tried to open the front metal gate,
but it wouldn't budge, like it was welded shut. More
metal tools clanged against the ground. One slammed against the
metal door right beside my head, and another. The boy's
(13:52):
hitched laughter croaked from somewhere in the dark of the shop.
I couldn't see anything, but I knew the layout of
the garage inside out and backwards. There was a flashlight
on the far end of the wall. To my right.
There were shelves along the wall and a wide work
bench I could follow. I moved along the metal door
to the wall and found the edge of the bench.
(14:14):
The boy's laughter got louder and louder, echoing through the garage.
It no longer sounded human, and the source of the
laughter was getting closer to me with it. I felt
a hot, rotten breath assaulting my nostrils. Then the boy
started repeating, I'm gone a fine YEA, I'm gone a
(14:36):
fine YEA. My foot hit what felt like a ratchet wrench,
which loudly skittered across the metal grating on the floor.
Was that you, the boy squealed out, Realizing I still
had the wrench in my hands, I first picked up
I threw it across the garage, hoping to hit the
back wall and cause a distraction. It left my hand,
(14:59):
but it never landed. There you are, the voice called
out through laughter. Something shuffled behind me. I hit the
end of the bench and reached up, knocking over multiple
tools and causing a series of loud crashes. But I
didn't care. I felt the flashlight grip and turned it on,
spinning and pointing the light behind me. But I wish
(15:21):
I hadn't. The boy was only two feet away. I
only saw his face for a moment, but that was
more than enough. The boy's facial scar had unraveled, like
layers of extra skin in some strange face scarf covering.
Only the fleshy layers were actually attached to him and
(15:42):
contained rows of needle like teeth on the inside. When
the skin flap opened, it tripled the original diameter of
his mouth. I screamed and fell backward. I expected to
hit the ground and immediately have the boy's frightening mouth
biting down on my face or neck, but I hit
the pavement outside the garage instead. The lights of the
(16:05):
gas station pored over me. I looked back into the garage.
The lights were on, the metal door was open, the
car was still and silent, the windows closed, and clear
footsteps approached behind me. I scrambled up and turned to
see Joan, and the man had returned. He flicked his
(16:28):
cigarette butt and approached me and mumbled how much I
couldn't speak. My lower jaw moved, but all I could
stammer out was don't worry about it. The man shrugged
and walked back to the car. I turned and found
Joan there, staring up at me. She was whispering something
(16:50):
quickly and repeatedly. I leaned in and heard it clearly.
You should have listened, You should have listened, You should
have listened, the man called out from the car, snapping
Joan back to him, still smiling. She shook her head
at me, tears rolling down her cheeks in dark smears.
(17:13):
Then she walked back to the car and got inside.
They started the vehicle and drove past me. The windows
were no longer blurred by fog, so I could see
inside clearly. I saw the man staring straight ahead, joan
sitting passenger beside him, smiling out at me with worried eyes.
(17:35):
Then I saw the back seat. It was empty. The
boy was gone. I was so afraid. I locked the
garage and the gas station, checked my car, then got
in and drove for an hour before stopping. I called
my boss and told him I was violently ill and
had to lock up early. He was less than impressed,
(17:57):
but I didn't care. I couldn't go back there, and
I didn't. I gave my two weeks and called in
sick for each shift. I never went back to the
garage and try to avoid gas stations at night. But
it's not just that. Now, whenever I hear some one laugh,
I hear that boy's laughter, that same odd upward hitch.
(18:23):
No matter the person, every giggle or cackle comes out
the same. It's been happening more and more. It feels
like the flu that starts slow and takes its time,
weakening your immune system before leveling you out. And then
to night, something else happened. I came home and there
(18:45):
was a small muddy handprint on the door handle of
my apartment, and there was one on the inside two,
I work at a gas station in the backwoods of Tennessee,
and that's where this happened last night. When I clocked
in at eight p m, the store was completely dead.
I figured it was going to be a pretty easy
night because the road this station is on is not
a main road. It used to be until about a
(00:25):
decade ago when the new freeway was built. This led
basically every business that was here to pack up and
leave their old building abandoned. Thanks to this, there are
a lot of abandoned buildings on this stretch of road
that local squatters tend to claim as their own. Anyway,
at around eleven p M, I only had an hour
(00:47):
of my shift left, and I figured I should actually
get some work done instead of just sitting around and
doing nothing. I'm eighteen and I work the shift alone,
which is nice because it means I can do pretty
much whatever I want as long as I get what
I need to get done finished. I noticed we were
almost out of barbecue chips, and so I need to
(01:09):
go get them from our storage space, which is, for
some reason, in the basement of the station. I've always
hated going down there because it gives me the creeps.
Why the owner decided to store everything down there is
beyond my comprehension. I got about half way down the
steps before something fell on the other side of the
(01:31):
room and it sounded like footsteps coming my way. I
sprinted up the stairs and locked the door to the basement,
panicking like a madman the entire time. I went behind
the counter to the store computer so I could check
the security cameras. I flicked over to the one that
looks into the basement and there was this guy just
(01:52):
standing there, smiling up into the camera. He had a
look of absolute insanity in his eyes, but he didn't
look like the average junkie in the area. He was
clean shaven and dressed in what looked to be jeans
and a button up of some kind. Honestly, if he'd
walked into the store, I wouldn't have batted an eye.
(02:16):
But because he was down there and he was just
looking into the camera smiling, it shook me to my core.
I called the store owner, and at first he was
pretty mad that I called him in the middle of
the night, but once he heard how freaked out I was,
his tone changed. He told me he'd be there in
fifteen minutes and to lock the main door to the
(02:38):
store and make sure the man didn't go anywhere. I
asked if I should call the police, but for some
reason he didn't want me to do that just yet.
I locked the entrance to the gas station and went
back to looking at the security camera. The man was
still there, just smiling up at me. About three or
(02:59):
so minutes of him staring at me later, he walked
out a view of the camera. My boss showed up
soon after, armed with a shotgun, and when I let
him inside, he immediately went to the basement. I followed
because it felt safer with another person, but we didn't
find anything. My boss ultimately chucked this up to me
(03:22):
being tired and hallucinating the man, but I know what
I saw. This has me scared shitless as I clock
back into work in a few hours, and I'm really
dreading it. I was there for three years. The station
(03:47):
had an auto shop attached, but it was rarely needed
at night, so I typically just dealt with people coming
in for gas. Occasionally, I'd be asked to work on
a car overnight from the day shift. One time, I
found several bags of heroin leaking out from the driver's seat.
I was nervous the owners would know I saw it,
(04:08):
so I stuffed the bags back in. The station was
out on a country road, so the types of customers
I generally served were truckers or farmers, or the random
couple driving home from a date. However, there were the
anomalies the car accidents. I saw a drunk driver step
(04:30):
out of a blazing inferno and die in the middle
of the road. One time I served gas to someone
who was being chased by the police. Of course I
didn't know that at the time. I just thought he
was in a hurry. I've also been robbed at gunpoint twice.
It was the same two sche masked guys too, They
(04:52):
just took turns speaking between the two incidents. Then there
was the time an old guy drove up, got out
of his car, and died of a heart attack two
steps later. Those incidents were normal, or at least understandable explainable,
But there was one night something unexplainable happened. It was
(05:17):
shortly after three a m. When headlights drove in with
a thin trail of smoke coming from under the hood
of the car. The inside of the windows were all
fogged up, so I couldn't really see the interior or
the occupants. The car drove past the station and right
to the auto shop. The lights weren't even on inside,
(05:38):
but the headlights lit it up. I went to greet
the driver and flipped on the overhead lights of the shop,
but they came on weak and dim. The driver's side
door opened as I approached, and I was immediately hit
with the stench of old, damp cloth and dust. A
(05:58):
middle aged man got out uneasily, like his knees were
made of twigs. He wore one of those black Quaker
hats with dark hair spiking from under it and a
graying goatee. The man's face was covered in lines and wrinkles,
and his eyes sunk into his head. He looked like
he hadn't slept in daze, checked the oil, check the engine.
(06:23):
He choked out and walked past me, fumbling out an
old box of matches. The passenger door closed and a
middle aged woman stood there. She had thick, dark hair
that looked like it was greased through with jel and
matted to her head. An uneven set of bangs cut
across her forehead. The woman carried the same sunken in
(06:46):
eyes as the man, but her face was covered in
day's old makeup, rosy cheeks, blue eyeliner, red lipstick. Even
through the smearing, you could tell it was applied with
heavy exaggeration. The woman smiled at me, but I wish
she hadn't. Her teeth were dirty orange and speckled with
(07:08):
black dots. Her gums were dark gray. Her lips stretched
and curved downward like a catfish. It was a strange
and frightening smile, like it was pulled and stretched over
a screaming face. The woman began speaking to me, but
she spoke so softly I couldn't hear her At first.
(07:32):
I kept leaning forward, trying to get a better ear,
but the closer I got, the further her voice sounded.
Then we were only inches from each other's faces. Her
breath was rancid as she spoke, and I finally heard
what she was saying. Don't go in the car. The
(07:55):
woman pulled back and I saw the scream behind the
smile in her eyes. Joan, the driver was outside of
the auto shop lighting up a home rolled cigarette. The
woman Joan, followed him. She looked back, continuing to smile,
but her eyes told a story of desperation and horror.
(08:18):
They gave me chills, and I was happy the two
were going to wait outside. I watched the strange couple
walk down to the edge of the gas station, where
it made up the corner of a quiet country intersection.
I turned to the car, not really sure what to do.
After I couldn't get under the hood. I figured there
(08:38):
was a release latch under the steering wheel. I went
to the driver's side door and saw the window was down.
I leaned in through the window and searched and fumbled
until I found a latch. I flicked it open and
saw the hood pop up. As I was pulling myself out,
a thought struck me. The window was up when the
man drove in, and it up when he walked off.
(09:02):
How did it get down? Then my eyes caught the
rear view mirror and what was in the back seat.
There was a little boy staring at me. He sat
calmly in the middle seat with his seat belt on.
He had a strange, swirling facial scar that reminded me
of a boy I went to grade school with, named
(09:24):
Johnny Walkins. He'd been attacked by a dog when he
was little, and large portions of his face were horrendously scarred.
That's what this boy looked like. And he had something
that looked like mud and dirt smeared around his mouth
and chin, the same smears on his hands and wrists.
The boy wore old, dirty overalls and a flannel shirt underneath.
(09:49):
His eyes were locked on me. They carried an accusatory glare,
like he was catching me stealing. Hey, buddy, I quick
blurted out, I'm just checking the engine. Then I'll get
you and your parents on the way. The boy stared back,
his brow furrowed at the center angrily. They're not my parents,
(10:13):
he croaked out. Then he started to make a strange sound.
I couldn't tell what it was at first, but then
it became clear the boy was laughing in his own
odd way. It was like his breath was hitching up
repeatedly during the inhale. I didn't know what to do
(10:33):
or say, so I pulled myself out of the window
and made my way to the hood. I looked out
and saw Joan and the man were still at the corner,
smoking and arguing. At the hood, I was greeted with
a cloud of smoke. When I stared down at the engine.
I had no idea what to make of it. It
looked foreign but also home made. It was all connected
(10:56):
and had metal plates fastened around it, protecting parts of
the wiring and cables, so it was next to impossible
to see what was wrong. I honestly didn't know what
the hell I was looking at, but I managed to
find what looked like a small handle for a dipstick,
and I twisted and pulled it out. It was for
the oil. I cleaned it, put it back in, and
(11:19):
pulled it to inspect, basically dry. The little oil at
the end felt gritty. It needed a change. The car
was parked over our lift, so I didn't have to
get in to move it, but I couldn't leave the
kid inside. He had to get out, safety precautions and all.
(11:39):
I went back to the driver's side window, but the
window was back up again. I tried to open the door,
but it was locked. I went to the passenger side
and found it to be locked too. I peered in
through the dirty windows to try to signal to the
boy to open the door, but the back seat was empty.
(12:00):
The entire car was empty. The boy was gone. The
only explanation I could come up with was that the
back seats of the car pulled down and allowed access
to the trunk. So I checked the trunk, but it
was also locked. I knocked on it, trying to get
the boy's attention if he was inside, but nothing came back.
(12:24):
I looked outside, but I couldn't see the man or jone.
I was confused and nervous, and all I could think
to do was explain that our lift wasn't working, so
they'd need to get their oil changed at another shop
in the next few days, and I'd send them on
their way. A loud clunking noise made me jump. On
(12:46):
the other side of the garage, a loose wrench was
on the ground. I walked over to it and picked
it up. It had a small child sized muddy handprint
on it, and suddenly the boy's laugh echoed out from
somewhere in the garage. I raised the wrench to swing,
(13:07):
but there was nothing to swing at. The loud metal
rattling of the front retracting door slamming shut made me yell.
Then the retracting metal doors at the back slammed shut too.
At this point I figured the kid was messing with me,
so I called out to him, telling him playtime was
over and to come on out. Then the lights went out.
(13:31):
The garage was completely black. Not a single window could
be seen. I tried to open the front metal gate,
but it wouldn't budge, like it was welded shut. More
metal tools clanged against the ground. One slammed against the
metal door right beside my head, and another. The boy's
(13:52):
hitched laughter croaked from somewhere in the dark of the shop.
I couldn't see anything, but I knew the layout of
the garage inside out and backwards. There was a flashlight
on the far end of the wall. To my right.
There were shelves along the wall and a wide work
bench I could follow. I moved along the metal door
to the wall and found the edge of the bench.
(14:14):
The boy's laughter got louder and louder, echoing through the garage.
It no longer sounded human, and the source of the
laughter was getting closer to me with it. I felt
a hot, rotten breath assaulting my nostrils. Then the boy
started repeating, I'm gone a fine YEA, I'm gone a
(14:36):
fine YEA. My foot hit what felt like a ratchet wrench,
which loudly skittered across the metal grating on the floor.
Was that you, the boy squealed out, Realizing I still
had the wrench in my hands, I first picked up
I threw it across the garage, hoping to hit the
back wall and cause a distraction. It left my hand,
(14:59):
but it never landed. There you are, the voice called
out through laughter. Something shuffled behind me. I hit the
end of the bench and reached up, knocking over multiple
tools and causing a series of loud crashes. But I
didn't care. I felt the flashlight grip and turned it on,
spinning and pointing the light behind me. But I wish
(15:21):
I hadn't. The boy was only two feet away. I
only saw his face for a moment, but that was
more than enough. The boy's facial scar had unraveled, like
layers of extra skin in some strange face scarf covering.
Only the fleshy layers were actually attached to him and
(15:42):
contained rows of needle like teeth on the inside. When
the skin flap opened, it tripled the original diameter of
his mouth. I screamed and fell backward. I expected to
hit the ground and immediately have the boy's frightening mouth
biting down on my face or neck, but I hit
the pavement outside the garage instead. The lights of the
(16:05):
gas station pored over me. I looked back into the garage.
The lights were on, the metal door was open, the
car was still and silent, the windows closed, and clear
footsteps approached behind me. I scrambled up and turned to
see Joan, and the man had returned. He flicked his
(16:28):
cigarette butt and approached me and mumbled how much I
couldn't speak. My lower jaw moved, but all I could
stammer out was don't worry about it. The man shrugged
and walked back to the car. I turned and found
Joan there, staring up at me. She was whispering something
(16:50):
quickly and repeatedly. I leaned in and heard it clearly.
You should have listened, You should have listened, You should
have listened, the man called out from the car, snapping
Joan back to him, still smiling. She shook her head
at me, tears rolling down her cheeks in dark smears.
(17:13):
Then she walked back to the car and got inside.
They started the vehicle and drove past me. The windows
were no longer blurred by fog, so I could see
inside clearly. I saw the man staring straight ahead, joan
sitting passenger beside him, smiling out at me with worried eyes.
(17:35):
Then I saw the back seat. It was empty. The
boy was gone. I was so afraid. I locked the
garage and the gas station, checked my car, then got
in and drove for an hour before stopping. I called
my boss and told him I was violently ill and
had to lock up early. He was less than impressed,
(17:57):
but I didn't care. I couldn't go back there, and
I didn't. I gave my two weeks and called in
sick for each shift. I never went back to the
garage and try to avoid gas stations at night. But
it's not just that. Now, whenever I hear some one laugh,
I hear that boy's laughter, that same odd upward hitch.
(18:23):
No matter the person, every giggle or cackle comes out
the same. It's been happening more and more. It feels
like the flu that starts slow and takes its time,
weakening your immune system before leveling you out. And then
to night, something else happened. I came home and there
(18:45):
was a small muddy handprint on the door handle of
my apartment, and there was one on the inside two,
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