Never Drive at Night

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I’d always heard that driving at night could be an eerie experience, but never truly understood it until that fateful evening. It was a typical dark and moonless night when I found myself on a long, winding road that stretched on forever. The road was flanked by thick woods that swallowed the moonlight. The hum of my car’s engine and the rhythmic patter of rain against the windshield were the only sounds that broke the silence. I couldn’t get my radio to work that night. I don’t know why.

I had just left a party. The clock in my car ticked past midnight. The winding road was desolate, with no other cars in sight, and the thick canopy of trees overhead formed an impenetrable barrier. My headlights pierced the darkness, casting eerie, elongated shadows that danced along the edges of the road. It should’ve been familiar. I’d taken that road a million times before, but somehow . . . it was different.

As I navigated the twisting curves, a strange sensation washed over me. It was a creeping feeling that I was being watched. It was absurd; after all, there was no one around for miles. I was going 50 mph, so there was no way anyone could “watch” me. But the feeling persisted, a nagging presence that sent shivers down my spine.

I tried to turn the radio on again. I hoped that some music might dispel the unease that settled in the pit of my stomach. At least it produced some kind of sound now, but static crackled through the speakers. I changed the stations many times. The radio would only recognize one station. The faint, distant whisper of a voice was barely audible. I couldn’t make out any words, but the spectral voice carried a weight of sorrow, as though it pleaded for something.

I tried to switch off the static, but now the button was unresponsive. The ghostly radio host’s voice was a persistent presence in the car. Panic welled within me. I felt a growing compulsion to listen, to decipher the ghostly message. It was like an unseen force now had control of my vehicle and led me deeper into the night. I made out several phrases. I heard “I don’t want to die,” and “There’s monsters there.”

The road ahead twisted and contorted even further. I lost all sense of direction. I now drove through an unfamiliar forest. The trees loomed like ancient sentinels on either side of the road. The spectral voice grew louder, a mournful wail that echoed in the cabin of the car. I suddenly felt the presence of something, or someone, in the backseat. It was a shadowy figure that remained just out of view.

Desperation consumed me as I focused on the road. I needed to find my way out of this nightmarish journey. The rain intensified and formed a curtain of water that blurred my vision. The voice on the radio continued its lament and grew even more anguished, as though it drew me into its sorrow. Almost like it tried to distract me from whatever was now in the backseat.

I slammed my foot on the brakes, and the car screeched to a halt. The radio abruptly cut out and left an eerie silence in its wake. My heart pounded. I turned to look into the backseat, but there was nothing there, just the empty darkness of the car’s interior.

As I caught my breath, I realized I had no idea where I was or how I had ended up in this strange, desolate forest. The road shouldn’t have ended. It should’ve gone on into the next state. As impossible as it seemed, the road ahead had indeed disappeared. It seemed to be swallowed by the dense undergrowth. The rain continued to pour down, and I had a sinking suspicion that I might never find my way home.

Beyond the end of the road ahead, beyond the wall of vegetation, I saw shapes in the darkness. They were barely visible at the edges of my headlight beams. They slithered and glided like enormous tentacles. Several looked as large as the trees. A skinny tentacle snaked its way out from below the bushes ahead. The tip of the tentacle opened like a mouth. There were countless teeth inside.

I quickly reversed and turned the car around. I retraced my path through the winding forest. I don’t know what that was, but the more distance I could put between myself and it, the better. The feeling of being watched lingered, but the spectral voice remained silent. The radio, once unresponsive, now seemed to function as it should. I was able to find a familiar station.

Several hours passed before I finally emerged from the dark forest. I know I didn’t turn onto that road to begin with. I was just somehow there . . . I decided against dwelling on it. I found myself back on the winding road that led to my home. The rain had ceased, and the night was gradually giving way to the first light of dawn. My car’s headlights cut through the last remnants of darkness, casting long shadows on the road.

I didn’t relax until I pulled into my driveway. A deep sense of relief washed over me. I almost passed out when I got out of the car. I hadn’t realized my body had remained tense all this time. I shook out my arms and legs as I walked.

I stopped when I noticed something hanging from the back of my car. My stomach dropped. It was the long, snake-like tentacle from the forest. I couldn’t move for a moment. It had latched onto the bumper. I kicked it with my shoe, and it fell to the ground. The tentacle had a large mouth full of sharp teeth.

I remained unable to move. Did I need to call the police? Animal control? The military? Who did you contact to report massive, slimy octopi that lived in forests? Or were they octopi? It could’ve just as easily been a squid.

The sunlight finally crested the mountain in front of the house. A ray of light hit the tentacle and, almost instantly, it was reduced to black ash that dissipated in the wind.

I stumbled toward my house once the appendage disappeared. I didn’t need to call anyone. I walked in and nearly passed out. I remained conscious long enough to call my workplace. I don’t remember anything until I woke that evening. I dreamed of hideous tentacles that chased me. I had terrible visions of what might’ve happened had I not turned around when I did. I know that thing would’ve killed me.

That evening, I decided to see where I might’ve veered off course. The road, or whatever it was I’d turned onto, was now gone. There was no turnoff into the forest there. I drove by it at normal speed. I crept by it at a snail’s pace. I even parked and got out to see if I might’ve missed a path somewhere. There was nothing there. I tore out of that area as soon as the sun began to set.

I still dream of tentacles. I have awful nightmares. I’ll never know what happened to me, but I do know I don’t drive once the sun goes down.

I don’t think I ever will again.