Don’t Stop

Written:   |   Setting:   |   2,350 words   |   10 minute read

The drive home was always a peaceful part of my routine. It was usually dark by the time I left the office. The city lights twinkled like stars and guided me through the familiar streets. I would eventually leave the city for home, and those same lights twinkled in my rearview mirror. But on that particular night, everything changed. It was a stormy evening. Rain lashed against my car and the sky was shrouded in an impenetrable darkness.

I didn’t go home after work that night. I did some shopping, met some friends, and we went to a club. I didn’t start the voyage home until around 1 am. The rain continued to pour down in torrents. It reduced visibility to a few feet in front of my car. Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance, and lightning intermittently illuminated the road. I only caught fleeting glimpses of the outside world.

I slowly navigated the slick, rain-soaked streets until I was on the highway. It was oddly empty, too. I couldn’t shake the feeling of being so alone. No other cars were in sight, and the usual sounds of the night were swallowed by the relentless downpour. The windshield wipers moved back and forth. The rhythmic motion added to the hypnotic effect of the storm.

I turned on the radio. I hoped some music would distract me from the night’s eerie atmosphere. But the radio stations were just static. There were only a few open channels, and each one was a jumbled mess of distorted sounds. I tried to find a familiar song, a voice to anchor me to reality, but the world outside was somehow disconnected from my car.

The highway didn’t help. I traveled on what felt like a lonely island, in the midst of a vast, tumultuous sea. Rain fell in thick sheets. The relentless cascade of water on the windshield made it impossible to see the lines of the road. Each splash of water against my windshield sounded like ghostly whispers.

The landscape outside was a blur of indistinct shapes and shadows. My car’s headlights cut through the rain, creating a tunnel of visibility that extended only car length ahead. The world out there now had a surreal quality. The surroundings shifted and warped with the storm’s capricious winds.

The unease that had been building in my chest reached a crescendo. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was not alone. The sensation was subtle, a prickling on the back of my neck, a sense of being watched. In the corner of my eye, I saw a figure in the back seat. When I checked the rearview, the only thing I saw was the reflection of my own terrified eyes.

The radio suddenly sprang to life, but not with music or voices. It was a cacophony of strange, ethereal sounds that seemed to originate from another dimension. It was as if the storm itself was speaking to me, a language that transcended human comprehension. The rain pounded on the car roof almost in a drumbeat.

In the midst of this bizarre, disorienting symphony, my car’s headlights illuminated something in the road ahead. It was a figure, a shadowy silhouette that stood in the pouring rain. It stood in the middle of the road. I slammed on the brakes. My heart pounded. The car skidded to a halt just feet from the mysterious figure. I had a tremendous urge to completely stop and just stare at the figure, but I knew that it was all wrong.

I swallowed hard as I finally felt a surge of adrenaline. I stepped on the gas pedal. The tires screeched as my car lurched forward. I swerved around the figure. I didn’t even look at them. I kept my eyes on the road ahead. By that point, I was now on the highway. To my abject horror, the same figure stood ahead around half a mile later. They wore the same clothes and stood in the same position. Again, I flew past them. I knew something was very wrong.

The pattern repeated a third time, only this time, I slowed to look at the figure. I couldn’t tell if it were male or female. The figure wore a tattered, grungy black rain-soaked cloak with a hood. It turned toward my car. The shadow of the hood obscured its face, but I felt its eyes on me. It was a piercing gaze that reached into the depths of my soul. I couldn’t move, couldn’t tear my eyes away from the enigmatic stranger. I could only see two pricks of light where it’s eyes should’ve been.

The radio’s otherworldly symphony continued, as the phantom figure raised a long, bony hand. It gestured for me to follow. The voiceless music of the storm became more urgent, more insistent, as if the very elements themselves urged me to step out of my car and join the mysterious figure. The skin on its visible hand was as white as bone.

Fear paralyzed me. I was torn between the bizarre compulsion to obey, and the instinct to flee. The world outside my car now had a nightmarish quality, and I couldn’t trust my own senses. The figure’s hand remained outstretched, an invitation into the unknown. Should I? But, why would I follow such a figure? I didn’t know who they were. Or what they were. I knew it was illogical and probably dangerous to heed the instincts that told me to follow.

I threw caution to the wind. I stepped on the gas and headed for them. The figure in the road disappeared as soon as my car was upon them. The radio’s bizarre symphony faded more with the distance I put between myself and that spot. The storm’s intensity lessened. The city lights gradually came back into view. The night returned to normal as the usual lights guided me home.

As I pulled into the driveway. I couldn’t help but wonder about the strange encounter. The drive home had always been a routine, but that time, it was a journey into the surreal and the supernatural. The feeling of being watched, the shadow in the backseat, the mysterious figure in the road, and the eerie symphony would forever haunt my memory. I don’t think I’ll ever drive at night again.