Wrong Car

I’ve seen ghosts my whole life. I have all the typical haunted house stories, I’ve seen them in the graveyards, they’ve been on the side of the road, they’re just, everywhere. It can get exhausting, and I certainly don’t tell anyone about it. I either get a look of awe, a look of disbelief, or, my personal favorite: “you’re so lucky!” Am I, really? I don’t feel lucky, especially after what I did last night.

It was super late, and all I wanted was my bed. I had worked on my uncle’s horse farm all day. Everything ached, from my eyeballs to my hair strands. Everything. On top of that, it had rained most of the day, so I was pretty miserable. The old back road I took away from his farm in the hills was covered in patchy fog, as the pavement tried desperately to match the temperature of the air above it. Navigating this fog, I could understand why horror movies loved this ambiance. Some patches literally looked like the white wisp of a dress. My imagination filled in the rest, and I could almost understand how the Lady in White myth was so popular. No, I’ve never seen the Lady in White.

I kept driving, concentrating on the road, thinking about my comfortable home. I stopped imagining faces in the fog as my mind wandered to some other meaningless topic. Suddenly, I was wide awake, and focusing intently on something in the middle of the road.

In a split second, it seemed to generate itself out of a dense patch of fog. It stood seven feet high, turned the fog into an intense shade of gray, and looked directly at me. I didn’t have time to notice much, but I did notice the red dots just above the nose, and below a wide brimmed hat.

I slammed on the brakes, but it was too late. The car ran through this thing, at about his waist. I turned my head and could see his waist inside my car. It reminded me of some sort of messed up cartoon. I screeched to a halt in the middle of the road, skidding a little on the damp pavement. This skid set my car slightly sideways, so I could see the way I came from the driver’s side door. I scanned the road for him to no avail. I looked both ways, searching as best I could on a cloudy night, and saw nothing. I decided I didn’t care if he were there, and began to back the car into the correct lane, facing the way home.

As I looked in my rearview mirror to reverse to the curb, I saw two red dots next to my reflection. That fucker was in the back seat! I could clearly see the rim of his hat, his eyes staring at me, and this time, a wicked smile. I somehow knew there were crooked teeth inside that smile, and that he could use them against me whenever he wished.

I should have been scared. Most people would have lost their minds here. But I had had enough. I already said I hate this “gift”, as people keep calling it. I hate it. I don’t want it, and I want it to go away. I was tired, and I wanted to go home, and I was pissed that this thing had climbed into my car.

I slapped the car into park with it still in the center of the road. I screamed, “NOOOOPE!” and opened my door. I yanked the back door open, looked directly into the back seat (which was now empty, as far as I could physically see), and yelled, “Nope! No! No way! You get out now! I’m done! I’m not having it! Get out of the car!” I felt air flow past me that chilled me to the core. It took me hours to warm up, even after a hot shower, from that blast of air. I slammed the back door shut, plopped into the driver’s seat, and blasted out of there as fast as I could maneuver. I reached for the thermostat in the car to throw hot air at myself, and as I did, I ventured a peek into the rearview.

He was there, in the middle of the road, in his tall glory, with his stupid hat and his stupid face. He was watching me leave. I don’t know if I’m right about this next part, or if it’s just me wishing it were true, but I’m pretty sure he had a confused look on his face.