The walls were thin, and her last night singing and voice practices would keep me up late. We had a small room on the sixth floor of a dormitory called Juniper Hall. She was a jazz vocalist, but her main interest was opera. My sophomore year, I roomed with a girl named Kara. This actually happened to me a few years back at the University of the Arts in Philadelphia. Related: 9 Gothic Horror Books That Will Make Your Blood Run Cold I asked for the estimated time of their deaths-all three of them were killed instantly by the collision at 5:32. No, I was horrified to see the lifeless corpses of my mother, father and sister. When I got there, it wasn’t the remnants of the car that caught my eye, not the flames billowing from the destroyed vehicle. I demanded to see the wreckage, a request I’m surprised was allowed. “Main road’s closed,” he said, “Huge car crash.” This was the exact moment I realized just what had happened. I made it about a quarter of the way before I was stopped by a police officer. In a state of sheer anxiety, I started to run to the restaurant. Exactly half a minute passed when I received the exact same message from my sister. Creepy though this was, my dad was always a joker, so I presumed he was just joking around, until I was sent another text saying, “Oops. I checked the text, and once again it was a massive mixture of letters and numbers, with the phrase, “Please help me” concealed within. Pocket text!” I signed with all the relief I had and continued to prepare myself.Ī few minutes later, I received yet another message, this time from my dad. It was quite a jumble of numbers and letters, but through the vocabulary stew I could make out the legible phrase: “Please help me.” It should go without saying that this worried me greatly, so I immediately replied, “Are you okay?” Just as instantly, I got another text which read, “Oops. I checked the message: It was from my mum. That’s strange, I thought, that never happens. It was 5:33, and I was just straightening my tie when my phone went off-I’d received a message. ![]() Of course, this was a formal occasion, so I had my best suit on. The beautiful weather was perfect for the atmosphere of the day-being married for twenty years is obviously a momentous occasion, so my parents had booked a table at our favorite Italian restaurant. Surprisingly warm for before the beginning of spring. It was a wonderful, sunny day, if memory serves. It all started on the 14th night of march, the night of my parents’ 20th wedding anniversary. However, something large, and wide, and as black as the night had been clinging to the rear of my car, obscuring my view through the window and leaving deep scratches on the sides.Īnd I had inadvertently driven it home with me. It had approached me from the rear and passed me to my left. It didn’t even occur to me until months after the fact, but it makes me dread driving alone at night even more. However, the second option is what makes my blood run cold whenever I consider it. By some glitch in reality, or something paranormal, this other car had somehow appeared behind me within 10 seconds of me checking my mirror. In hindsight, there are two possibilities for what happened that night. ![]() They could have been there for months, but that was the first time that I distinctly remembered seeing them. One was on the left rear, one was on the right. The next morning, I found two sets of scratches near the back of my van. ![]() I drove the rest of the way home shivering and knowing something was off. Ten seconds earlier, nothing had been behind me. ![]() I had one of those sudden adrenaline rushes like when you think you see a person outside your bedroom window when it’s just a tree, or when you start awake at night with the feeling of falling. I remember it so clearly because not 10 seconds later a car passed me to the left. Just the seemingly endless blackness of the night. I know that I looked backward and saw nothing. I stole a glance into the middle rear view mirror, and saw nothing but darkness through the back window. I had the radio off, and could hear nothing but the muffle roar of tires on pavement and the dull hum of the engine. It was almost midnight, and needless to say it was pitch black. In the summer of 2013, I found myself driving home alone on highway 902 from a party.
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