The Drive Home

A little ghost story.

It’s 2 am.

We’re standing outside her parents' house.

I can’t stay.

She doesn't want me to leave.

She grabs my hand, a gentle warmth.

She pulls me in for a goodnight kiss and the bitter night recedes.

It ends with a yawn, not my best moment.

We both laugh.

It subsides

We stand in the chill night air gazing at one another willing the moment to linger on forever.

The moths plink against the porch light, keeping an irregular beat, but thankfully it’s too cold for mosquitoes.

Tink...Tink, Tink...Tink

Another yawn. Another smile. Another kiss.

The door closes and I am alone.

I get in my car and it takes three tries but it finally catches and I start my hour commute home.

I desperately hope my parents are asleep, but the city flashes by as I prepare my story in case they aren't.

Two turns, three lights and I’m on Highway 59, the comforting yellow street lamps of Victoria fall behind and are gone.

Alone on a dark highway, my only company the white crosses of those who will pass this way no more.

I turn on the radio. Static. I switch it off.

A rest stop ahead. An oasis of light in the sea of blackness. My half way point.

Should I stop?

No, keep going.

Cruise control set to 70.

Lights fade in the rear-view.

Tap, tap, tap

S**t, is that the engine?

Tap, tap… Tap, tap

No, not the engine, but what?

Tap, tap, tap

A translucent hand, barely visible outside the passenger window.

Tap, tap, tap, tap

And attached to the hand is an arm and a body….

Tap, tap

And a face, almost visible.

Tap

What could this early morning runner want?

I slow to 50.

Wait, I’m going 50!

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap

The face presses up against the window, smudging the glass with dirt and grime.

Tap…Tap…Tap

I speed up to 70, my foot heavy on the accelerator.

Tap, tap, tap

The face presses harder and slime oozes out the empty eye sockets.

I floor it, jumping to 85.

Tap, tap, crack, tap, crack…

Hairline cracks start to form on the window as the gruesome face tries to force its way in…

90

Tap, crack, tap, tap…

95

Tap, tap….

100

Tap, tap, crack

110

Tap, tap, tap…CRACK

I take my exit at 115 mph, praying to god that I die before it gets me.

I wake up.

Light in my eyes.

Glass in my lap.

My car is totaled but I don’t much feel like driving anyway.

Reviews

[Kieta!]

Ahh now I'm spooked! Lol great job!

[Bill Danielsson]

That was real eerie. Sent goosebumps across my legs.

Great story, man, good job!