The Road at Midnight

The old roads rumbled under the wheels of the car as he drove home from checking that his daughter, having given birth, was alright. She was laying down in bed, her face coated in sweat, her father gently patting her forehead. There was no doubt that she was his favourite of all four children. Her husband, having been awake for several hours, back and forth from their house, was fast asleep on the chair with the new mother saying softly to her father to leave him asleep. He's worked very hard tonight having driven home and to the hospital five or six times in the last few hours and staying up with the mother, welcoming the three brothers, taking phone calls and all the rest.

Her eyes half-open, her father continued to pat her forehead, wiping the sweat away and pushing her hair from her face. He was genuinely upset that his wife could not be here to see this as the newest and smallest addition to the family was about to receive her recently deceased grandmother's name.

Feeling the pillows behind her head, he realised they were coated in sweat and walked out on the corridor to request new bedding for his daughter, it was replaced quickly. The new mother told her father that he should go home and get some sleep for work tomorrow and, asking her if she's alright and listening to the calm breathing of her husband, she smiles and says she's going to get some sleep. He kisses her on the forehead, puts a blanket over the sleeping man and turns the lights off as his daughter tucks in and falls fast asleep.

Quietly shutting the door, he makes his way out of the hospital, sending a short text message to her dead phone that he will be back the next evening to make sure the hospital is giving her some good food. He didn't realise it was so dark outside, he didn't know it was so late. But at half an hour from midnight, he got into his car and began upon the long, empty road home.

There's a long road with a sense of weird nothingness. It's not quite suburban but also, not quite rural. It was the one street he was always scared of because the houses almost looked abandoned. The smell of reddish dust would come through the windows quickly if you rolled them down and if you were really looking, you could see an old church at the other end of the road. Straight and dented, it was stony and the edges of the narrow street could barely be seen in the day, so seeing them at night was far less possible.

When he was driving this same road in the early afternoon, the sun was throwing frightening shadows from the houses and the people who hanging out their clothes in the heat. Each house had a large space on either side so that neighbours couldn't really speak to each other, the silence amongst the various folk who were out in their front gardens was definitely unsettling but nothing to worry about. Now that it was nearing midnight as he turned on to the road, there was something deeply wrong and to admit he was trembling slightly would have been an understatement. He made sure the windows were rolled all the way up and he dropped his headlights as to not bring attention to himself. If anyone was still awake was one thing, someone acknowledging his existence almost felt dangerous.

The day before yesterday, he drove up during sunrise, taking the day off work to see his daughter and he could not believe he was thinking it, but the road almost looked beautiful. The sun was rising in the horizon, the people had their windows open and for some reason, it made the houses look less threatening. The road may have been long and unending, but it was actually a joy to drive down. So what happened now? He thought to himself. How can one road look so different in the nighttime to how it looks in the day? He knew it was illogical to be scared of these people or their houses, or their road - but he couldn't help it as he heard the long, dry howl of a dog in the darkness. He caught a glimpse of the pet walking back into a house, the door behind it closing. Someone may have seen him, his eyes are tired but they widen.

He takes a deep inhalation of breath as he slows his car to a stop for a few moments. He stares out of his window at the house but he sees no movement. As he starts the engine up again it echoes through the darkness and, as if he is hiding from a serial killer, he begs his car to quieten down, putting his hand to his mouth. He eventually continues driving, the long road elongating even more in front of him, a never-ending path to the pit of darkness. He's driven this road many times, but never at night and it's only now where he starts to fear for his safety. He is tired, with slumped shoulders, but he forces himself awake over and over with each crack of a twig under a wheel, with each rumble of stones and pebbles.

His head is becoming heavy with sleep, he really wants to stop and take a rest but knows that for some reason, he has to stay on guard just in case someone was to come out of their home. Midnight seems to be getting darker by the second and he can't pretend that he would see anyone if they did open their door now. He doesn't think about it, but his head slams off the steering wheel and for a split second (or maybe more, he doesn't know) he is asleep. A jolt, a bang and a slight throw of the car waking him up. He jumps awake, his back wheels go up by a small degree and he knows that something, or someone, has been hit.

He thinks about stopping and getting out of the car to see what or who has been hurt by his driving but can't imagine doing so in such a place as empty and dark as this. He slows down slightly, hoping to hear whatever it was to get up and leave, almost knowing that it was a person or an animal. He keeps going, at a pace slightly above a short jog, down the road - terrified to feel that someone definitely heard him. He climbs back to a pace, but not by much - he's too scared to make sudden movements and yet, he feels the creeping danger. He looks out of his rear-view mirror and feels he can see someone or something, but he is perfectly aware his mind is probably playing tricks on him. Keep your eyes on the road, he thinks to himself. And he faces forward and steadies the pace of the car.

It's silent apart from the gravel under the wheels until almost all at once, he hears a woman scream.

His breath quickens and without thinking much, he switches off his headlights entirely, changes gears and speeds off into the night. The woman is still screaming. He drives and drives until he can no longer hear her.

When he finally arrives home, he shuts the door and sits on the landing behind it, sliding down to the floor. He puts his head in his hands and each time he shuts his eyes, he hears the screaming. As the sun comes up the next day, he is too aware that if he wants to go back to the hospital, he is going to have to take that road again.