Scary stories from life on the road. Road of Oblivion
I’ll tell you a few mystical stories that happened to my husband when he often went on business trips to many countries, and during these hours his life was spent mostly just behind the wheel. Over fifteen years of such trips, several stories have accumulated.
Story one. The night route was long from one city to another. It was three o'clock in the morning. My husband calmly endures the night hours, without the desire to fall asleep, since he worked shifts at his previous job for a long time and was accustomed to not sleeping for days.
He was not driving fast, about 80 km per hour, and suddenly a huge, strange object was snatched from the headlights ahead of him at the side of the road. It was translucent, shaped like a folded envelope, the size of a large elephant. Its transparency was so tangible that it could already be distinguished from about twenty meters away by moonlight and headlights. The car approached him, and this object sharply moved towards it. My husband slammed on the brakes from the unexpected maneuver of this envelope. The object hit the car with great speed and passed through it, disappearing from behind on the road. Moreover, the husband felt the moment of passing through the interior of the car with his whole body, the vibration was like during turbulence on an airplane. I note that my husband does not indulge in alcohol or drugs.
The second story. My husband traveled for more than 40 hours from his next business trip, the site and I had to look for accommodation for the night. Near New Odessa there is a huge monument to a soldier on a hill; its metal glitters so much in the sun that it’s hard not to notice it when driving past. The husband stopped near him to spend the night in the car. He had nightmares all night, and without sleep, he drove on. The next time he stopped again near this monument for the night, someone strangled him all night in his sleep and pressed on his chest. The husband again did not attach any importance to this, citing fatigue. I dissuaded him from staying there at all, but he doesn’t believe in any mysticism. And it so happened that once again I had to spend the night again under the ill-fated monument.
The night passed peacefully, but in the morning a surprise awaited my husband. Before going to bed, my husband had a snack and put the leftover food in a bag on the passenger seat. A stick of smoked sausage disappeared from a bag of groceries, although the doors were naturally locked and the car alarm was on. And the funny thing is that the laces on his shoes were tied together, left to right, right to left. My husband really went into shock, he checked all the locks in the car and even the luggage lock; the doors were all locked. Who could make such a joke? He didn't stop there anymore.
Third story happened in Poland. He was traveling from Warsaw to Torun. From one city to another is 200 km. It took about three hours to drive along this narrow, winding and busy road. My husband left Warsaw. There is a blizzard outside the city, sweeping so hard that you can’t see anything. I drove very slowly so as not to fly into the ditch when turning, the ice was terrible. I drove like this for fifteen minutes and just thought that it would not be three, but five, or even six hours, when suddenly the sign “Torun” flashed. The husband fell into a stupor and couldn’t believe his own eyes. At your own risk, I drove the car back to the sign and read the name “Torun” again. How so? Even by his watch he saw that he had left Warsaw fifteen minutes ago. Then I thought it was someone’s joke, but after a couple of minutes I was already entering the city to which I was heading. Somewhere on the highway a temporary hole awaited him.
Story four. My husband picked up a fellow traveler along the highway near the forest; some hitchhiker was on his way to a neighboring town. The young guy, as it turns out, is a student. We started talking. It turned out that he was going to his parents for the weekend after school. Word by word, we arrived in a couple of hours. The husband dropped the guy off, said a sweet goodbye and parted. Having collected the parcel, the husband immediately set off on the return journey.
Halfway on the highway near the forest, a hitchhiker slows him down again. The husband stops and, perplexed, opens the door for him. A young student, the same one, asks for a ride, only in the other direction. The husband smiles and invites him to get into the car. The boy sits down and begins to get to know each other in a new way. The husband laughs and asks him why he stayed with his parents so quickly, he said that he was going to them for the whole weekend. The guy tells it all again, the same story, without recognizing his fellow traveler. The husband decided that the guy was weak-minded. He dropped him off near the city where he wished. There was a cafe nearby, my husband came in for coffee. I talked to the bartender and told him about the strange student, and he just nodded his head.
- And he rode with you?
— Why is he probably hitchhiking, killing his free time? - asked the husband.
- No, he’s trying to get home, but he still doesn’t realize that a shooting range knocked him onto the highway under the forest a year ago. He then went home to his parents. So everyone is trying to get to what day.
My husband really felt sick then. Since then, he has not gone to that area on business trips and never takes travel companions. But the most interesting thing is that he still does not believe in mysticism, he believes that it is all nonsense, although he has encountered it more than once. This is Thomas the unbeliever.
I was once driving towards Kostroma to visit my older brother. The tradition of spending holidays with each other arose for us as soon as we flew out of our parents’ nest, so to speak. By the way, we were always very friendly with him, which we could not say about our comrades: Valerka and I watched in amazement as our classmates fought to the death with their own brothers and sisters. We couldn’t even understand: how is this possible, why?! My older brother has never hit me in his life, even as a joke. It was customary for us to stand up for each other from early childhood. I remember I was three, and Valerka was seven, and some fat guy of about five in the sandbox threw a red plastic shovel at me. So Valerka dragged this aggressor by the ear all the way to the entrance, where he handed him over to his grandmother, giving him a whole lecture about how wrong it is to offend children! My brother was four years older than me. But it seemed to me - for a lifetime. I respected him as an adult because he was a protector and a mentor, he knew the answers to all the questions that I asked him as a child. At the same time, he was my companion in all games and pranks: together we ran from class to the river for crayfish, stole apples from neighbors’ orchards in my grandmother’s village, fought off a pack of dogs that had appeared from nowhere near our house. And together they were hiding from the largest bull in the village herd when they came across him in the field. I remember sitting on an old oak tree for three hours until the horned one was driven away by the awakened shepherd. For all our pranks, we received from our parents together. Even if only one person was to blame. The father, waving his belt, said: “I don’t want to figure out who the instigator was!” Mom, sending me to a corner, always put my brother in the opposite corner, reprimanding: “You are for a misdemeanor, and Valerka is for an oversight. You need to keep an eye on the younger one!” When I was deprived of sweets or gifts for breaking glass at school, Valerka courageously gave me his. And we divided the sweets we found in my mother’s stash in half, and the bright red locomotive my brother won at the Olympics in third grade was given to me.
Paradoxically, I was the first to fly out of the parental nest. Although Valerka began courting girls already in high school, and I grew up “techy”, as my mother put it. After the army, my brother entered the capital’s university, and after graduating from school, I decided to go to him. Not even because he really wanted to study in Moscow, but because he wanted to be closer to Valerka. And I went to his institute not at the call of my soul, but out of a desire to be close to my brother. He was already in his fourth year, I was in my first, the dorm became our home, where we cooked meager dinners together, saving scholarships, and sometimes had fun drinking parties in honor of successfully passed exams.
After graduation, my brother went home: his parents believed that he should continue the dynasty at their factory. And I was still finishing my studies and working part-time, because without my wise brother I could not make ends meet. I haven’t had time to work in a variety of jobs: a waiter, a bartender, a cashier in a store, a loader, a mechanic in a car service center. It was there, in a car service, that my passion for cars was discovered. And my talent: I am a very good car mechanic. I quickly developed regular clients. Still, word of mouth is a great thing! People started waiting in line for me a month in advance, and I was even able to afford to move from the dorm to a rented apartment. And there, quite quickly, Kira appeared in my life. I first became acquainted with her car - an old foreign car. And then somehow it happened that a nice girl started stopping by just to chat. And a couple of years later we got married. As my colleagues at the car service said: “Lucky you! He grabbed a Muscovite wife, and with a separate apartment!”
And Kira really inherited a small one-room apartment on the outskirts, but it seemed to us that it was a mansion! My brother, of course, came to our wedding - to a modest painting ceremony, let’s say. He worked hard at the plant as an ordinary engineer until the plant was closed. Remember what happened in the 1990s? and Valera, with a design diploma, went to join his uncle’s construction team. They built palaces for officials and local swindlers who became rich overnight. My brother had golden hands; after a couple of years he had already assembled his own team. And he made good money. Got married. With his own efforts, he built a spacious house on the banks of the Volga River for his family, which soon numbered as many as five people: he had three daughters, one after another.
It was to them that I hurried to a cozy log house near the river I had adored since childhood on the day I began to talk about. My Kira chose to go on vacation with her son to Turkey, and I said: “No! Volga is better than your beach on the Mediterranean Sea.”
On the road from Moscow to Kostroma (those who have traveled know) you may not see a single car, or you may get stuck in a traffic jam. If we get lucky. I was driving along an empty highway, glad that I would arrive before dark, I would run off for a swim - the weather was real July! And suddenly... Out of the twilight, a car with the inscription DPS jumped out from the side road and turned on its beacons. I realized that it was for me, I drove another 30 meters by inertia and stood on the side of the road. Looking back, I saw: a traffic cop came out and walked toward me with his baton raised. There was no one else on the road, which means I was the one who violated something. I looked for documents in the glove compartment and wondered what I owed to the attention of the law enforcement officer. It seemed like he was driving carefully. “The question is, what does he want? - I became more and more excited. “He just wants to cut a bill for dinner!” Glancing angrily at the rearview mirror, I cursed: the traffic cop was walking slowly and making some signs to me.
“I won’t give you anything! - I was preparing myself to fight back. - I didn’t break anything! Fuck, you’re going to make money out of me!”
I remember at that moment I thought that now I would arrive too late, I wouldn’t have time to cuddle my nephews (they would be put to bed) or run off for a swim. To speed up the process of sorting things out, I got out of the car and menacingly walked towards the traffic cop.
Having taken a couple of steps towards the law enforcement officer, I saw absolutely no one. Neither the serviceman hobbling towards me, nor his car. I even thought for a moment. That the traffic cop was playing a prank on me - he was hiding in the bushes by the road and watching. But where is his car? And in general, have you met jokers among the gays? Me not. After scratching my turnip, I got into the car and took some time to come to my senses. I definitely saw him! He was still showing me something with his staff. And he made some signs with his hand. After smoking a cigarette, I drove on. There were no more adventures, but just in case, I trudged along the required 80 kilometers. Didn't exceed. At dinner I told Valerka a story that happened to me on the road.
"ABOUT! Congratulations! - exclaimed the brother. - You met our legend: the ghost traffic cop. He was hit two years ago by a drunken prosecutor right in the place you're talking about. On the way to Yaroslavl. And since then, many drivers have seen him - he comes out onto the road and waves his baton. He even talks to some of them! My friend from work listened to a whole lecture about drunk driving - he actually drank beer when leaving. I was already preparing to part with my rights, and then, lo and behold, there was no one there. I decided that I was imagining things.” “Yes, but I don’t drink and drive! Then why did he stop me?” - I reasoned in bewilderment. The brother shrugged his shoulders: “Who knows, a ghost…”
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A terrible incident on the highway
That day I stayed at work until late in the evening. Friday, everyone is at the dacha. I took the train to my station in the suburbs, and then I had to take a bus. I’m standing at a bus stop, it’s cold, it’s windy. Unpleasant weather. I looked, according to the bus schedule, I still have to wait about forty minutes. Give me, I think maybe I can hitch a ride for a small fee. He stepped off to the side of the road and extended his hand. I had to stand for a long time. There were few cars, and no one was in a hurry to stop. One of them drives up, told him where to go, he charged such a sum... In general, he refused.
I’m standing further, maybe I’ll get lucky and a fellow traveler will appear. An old seven, dirty crimson, drives up. I open the door and look into the interior of the car. It looks like he stuck his head in the freezer.
“Well, I think the guy has an air conditioner in his car, why? It’s already cold outside, it would be better to turn on the stove...”
He pats me on the front seat, smiles and says nothing. I tell him, I don’t care about Zhdanovka. He:
“I won’t get to it for about a kilometer, but you can get there yourself if you can.”
And again he smiles widely as if he had been waiting to meet me all his life. And the man himself immediately seemed creepy to me. The lips spread in a smile, as if they were being pulled to the sides by strings, and the face is like wax—not a single muscle moves, not even the eyes. Like a dead fish, they are bulging and covered with a whitish thread.
“Drunk or stoned...” I decided and began to retreat, backing away to slam the car door. Here he squints in my direction and doesn’t let me close the door all the way:
- Sit down, I won’t take the money, why am I scared...
I look at his hand, but the fingers on his hand do not move. With the same success, you can poke the door with Makneken’s hand. His fingers were like stone - in one position.. Then the light of the lantern illuminated his face brighter than the light bulb in the car. The totality of the look in his eyes, the color of his face and the matted hair on his head caused me to feel an attack of uncontrollable fear. I spat on the open door, turned around and rushed to the bus stop, where several people were already standing waiting for the bus. Having squeezed into the middle, I took a breath and looked back. There was no car.
“I left, thank God...” I decided. Then I felt a little embarrassed for myself, and I began to analyze why it scared me so crazy?
“Well, the guy got drunk and went for a ride, it became hot from the strong drinks - he turned on the air conditioner at full power, saw a voter, stopped, just wanted to chat on the road... And I galloped away from him like a deer. Probably amused him from the bottom of his heart...”
Approaching my destination - the village of Zhdanovka - I saw a car accident. My heart sank unpleasantly. And yet, despite the fatigue and cold, I got off the bus one stop early and headed to the scene of the accident. There were already traffic police cars there and “ Ambulance" As I came closer, I realized that I was not mistaken - it was the same car. Or rather, a pile of torn iron wrapped around a concrete pillar. I asked the doctor about the driver’s well-being, to which he waved his hand. True, then he inquired whether I knew the deceased? Answering that I didn’t know, I walked towards my village.
Everything that happened flashed through my head. Remembering the cold in the cabin, I shivered. The thought flashed through my mind: “Old seven, where does the air conditioning come from?” Then the sign “To the village” caught my eye. Zhdanovka 1 km.” For some reason, I immediately remembered the words of that man: “I won’t get there for about a kilometer, but you’ll get there on your own if you can.”
“Yes,” I thought, “it’s unlikely that I would have been able to get there if I had gone with him.”
Maybe some tenth sense, trying to save me from death, drew in my brain - white eyes, unnatural facial features, and wild coldness in the cabin, frightening me to horror.. I don’t know.. I still dream about that car and that man. It’s as if we were driving with him, laughing, and then it took our breath away and we fell into the abyss. And again I wake up in a cold sweat...
“Many years ago I practiced what was called “meet and return.” One driver leaves from one city, and the other from another, and they meet halfway. We met in the parking lot, exchanged trailers and headed back. I have practiced such meetings several times already and noticed that I always arrive half an hour earlier than the other driver. One day I arrived at the parking lot just like always. Three in the morning, no one around. I stretched out on the seat and prepared to take a nap.
But suddenly, 10 minutes after I dozed off, I woke up from a dog barking. I tried to ignore it, but it only got louder and closer. After listening, I realized that the dog was right next to my car. “Either this dog is trying to warn me about something, or he just has nothing to do, he needs to throw something at her,” I thought.
I sat up and looked out the window. To my horror, I did not see the dog. A large man, about 35 years old, stood a few inches from the window and barked at me. He had crazy eyes, foam at the mouth - this scene was imprinted in my brain. Slowly, trying not to make sudden movements, I started the truck and slowly drove away. He started chasing me like an angry dog would. Needless to say, I have never dozed off in a parking lot since then.”
Popular
"Thousand devils!"
“My mother works as a truck driver. This is her story. She was driving through Arizona and suddenly saw something that resembled leaves that the wind carries along the road. This puzzled her, because there were only pine trees growing around - this was in northern Arizona. But looking closer, she saw that they were real tarantulas—thousands of them. There were so many of them that the truck's wheels skidded on their bodies, and she had to slow down. At the stop, she asked her partner to fill up. He got angry because it was his time to rest, but he obediently got out of the car. And I saw spiders stuck to the wheels of the truck.”
Tall guy
“One day, a friend and I were driving through South Alabama and passed an old cemetery. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a truck pulled up behind us. It was very late, but even during the day you could rarely see a car on this highway, so it became a little scary. I accelerated, but the truck stayed right next to the bumper.
I pressed the gas pedal to the floor and was already racing at full speed along the narrow dirt road, and the truck was still not far behind. My friend, who knew the area well, said that there was a bend ahead that the truck simply could not fit into.
I turned the steering wheel to the side and suddenly among the trees I saw a very tall guy, covered with hair from head to toe. Before I had time to shout: “Have you seen this…” - my friend finished for me: “The hairy guy!”
We broke away from the truck and drove away, but I won’t be able to forget this story.”
Crime scene
“Once I was driving along a deserted two-lane road. I drove past the town of Amboy - a small, almost abandoned settlement with a dormant volcano. Lava on one side, salt on the other. Once upon a time, they say, there were many sectarians here.
I stopped there and took a photo of the sign just to prove to my friends that I was there. I got back into the car and drove further up the mountain. Once I reached the top I drove through a canyon with tall grass on both sides of the road. Suddenly I saw something on the road far ahead. As I got closer, I slowed down. A red Pontiac Fiero was blocking my way - it was standing right across the highway. A suitcase with scattered clothes lay nearby, and two bodies lay face down on the road, a man and a woman.
Everything was like in a horror movie - no signs of an accident, as if I was on stage. Something was very wrong. Not a drop of blood. I very carefully drove past the bodies without getting out of the car. Having driven a decent distance, I looked in the rearview mirror and saw that a man and a woman had risen to their knees, and other people—several dozen people—came out of the grass. I stomped on the gas pedal. Sometimes real life can be scarier than a horror movie.”
This story happened in 1998. I was in 10th grade then. Once I went to the regional center to the market. I decided to buy things for the summer. I walked around, chose, and when I bought almost everything I needed, an old woman of about seventy came up to me. She said that I was very severe damage and we need to get rid of it urgently.
I laughed: I used to think that only gypsies scare honest people with this nonsense, but it turned out that Russian women also took up such nonsense. At this the woman looked at me intently and very seriously replied that I would soon see proof of the existence of otherworldly forces. I ignored her words and went home.
I met friends in the village, and they suggested we go to a disco in the neighboring village. In the evening, the four of us on three motorcycles went to our neighbors. We had a great time, and at one o'clock in the morning we went home.
It wasn't far to go, only 12 km. The road was dirt, well-worn, and the moon was shining brightly in the sky. I rode last, as my friends had more powerful and faster motorcycles.
When there were about three kilometers left to the village, I accidentally noticed a dog running to my left. This surprised me very much. Our four-legged friends have never run so fast. In addition, the animal was rushing at great speed across the field, and not along a flat road.
Having looked closely, I was horrified to see that the dog was not running on the ground, but was flying through the air. But the creepiest thing was that there was a red light shining in her eyes. It wasn't a hallucination because I didn't drink or take any drugs. The sky was amazingly clear, and I clearly saw the terrible beast in the silvery light of the Moon.
I was in shock and didn't know what to do. And the dog suddenly began to lag behind, and then completely disappeared from view. When I arrived home, I told my friends everything, but they didn’t believe me. They decided that they were being pranked by telling scary bedtime stories.
The next morning I went to the local grandmother. They said about her that she was a witch. This woman listened to my story, whispered something and said that the stranger in the regional center was right. She undertook to treat me, but that’s a completely different story.
Now I am absolutely sure that in our world there are sorcerers, witches, and all sorts of other devilry. We do not notice this evil for the time being, but one day we are convinced that it really exists.
The story for the site was prepared by Winter Cherry
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