This happened 14 years ago, and not in the UK but where I (Mr) originally come from.
Was hanging out at a mate's house with another friend of mine. The three of us were chatting until well into the night, and by the time I left it had gone past three in the morning. So I got in my car and started the drive home. The second guy I was with brought his own car and stayed back for a bit. It was a nice drive. Radio was on, windows down, cigarette in my hand (ex smoker now). I took my usual shortcut home, which brought me through a long and empty stretch of road. It was a two lane road, separated by a concrete divider in the middle. Being three am, it was dark out there and only a handful of street lights lined the road. There was some fog in the air. Nothing too heavy, but it did mean visibility wasn't all that great. Didn't matter, as I drove along that stretch regularly and loved how deserted it always was.
So I was driving along and then suddenly, just as my car lights cut through the fog ahead, somebody hopped off the concrete divider and ran across my path. It wasn't even a normal run. It was a weird mixture between skipping and running. I slammed the brakes, swearing out loud. On instinct, I turned around to yell at the guy again, and that's when I realised something.
The reason I loved that stretch of road, the reason it was always empty, was because there was nothing around. Only an abandoned construction site where the ground had been levelled out for a new housing development to be built.
When I turned around to yell at the "guy", he was gone. And as far as my eye could see, there was nothing but flat ground. No trees, no walls, nothing. Nowhere he could've hidden or run to. He had just disappeared.
I slowed my car to a crawl, wondering what the hell I just saw. My friend then pulled up alongside me in his car and asked what I was doing, and I told him I just saw a ghost. He looked at me, understandably, like I was a moron then we laughed and drove away.
The next day, I called my mate whose house we were at and told him what happened. He then told me that a friend of his nephew's, a fourteen year old boy, was killed on that stretch of road in a hit and run a few weeks prior.
I'll be honest though, I don't believe in ghosts. No idea what it was that I saw, maybe my eyes played some kind of weird trick on me. And funnily enough, to this day when I think back on that experience, it doesn't scare me. I'm just weirded out.  |
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