The Night I Encountered a Ghost (Maybe)
Some nights just stay with you, don’t they? Even as I sit down to write this, the memory sends a chill down my spine. This is the story of the night I had what I can only describe as an encounter with the unexplained.
It was late, around midnight, and I was driving home after a long day. The road was strangely quiet, the kind of quiet that makes you notice every little sound—your tires rolling on the asphalt, the faint hum of the engine. As I approached a bridge on the outskirts of town, I saw someone standing by the roadside, waving.
At first glance, it was a man—ordinary, nothing alarming. He seemed to be signaling for a ride. Now, I’m all for helping people, but something about that moment didn’t sit right with me. It wasn’t just the odd timing or the lonely location. It was...a feeling. The kind that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. So, I did what most people would probably do in my situation—I drove past without stopping.
I didn’t even glance back. I just told myself, It’s better to be safe than sorry. But then, a few minutes later, I caught something in my rearview mirror.
At first, I thought I was imagining it. The dim light inside the car made it hard to see clearly, but there was no mistaking it—a figure was sitting in the backseat.
I froze. My grip on the steering wheel tightened, but I didn’t panic. I didn’t dare turn around. Instead, I kept driving, heart pounding, trying to make sense of what I’d just seen. Who was in my car? How did they get in?
The next few minutes felt like hours. I focused on the road ahead, pretending I hadn’t noticed anything. I didn’t want to speak or do anything that might escalate the situation—if there even was a situation.
The closer I got to home, the faster I drove. All I could think about was getting to safety. As soon as I pulled into my driveway, I prepared myself to jump out of the car and call for help. But when I turned around to check the backseat—there was no one there.
The seat was empty, exactly as it had been when I left the bridge.
I sat there for a moment, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Was I imagining things? Did exhaustion play tricks on my mind? Or was it something else—something I couldn’t explain?
To this day, I don’t know the answer. But I do know one thing: I’ll never forget that night.
Some people might say it was a ghost. Others might think I was just tired or seeing things. Whatever it was, it left me shaken and questioning reality. And every time I drive past that bridge, I can’t help but feel a shiver of unease.
So, if you ever find yourself on a lonely road at night and see someone asking for a lift—trust your gut. Sometimes, it’s better to keep driving.
What do you think? Could it have been a ghost? Or was my mind playing tricks on me? Either way, it’s a story I’ll carry with me forever.
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