AROUND THE BLOCK

Everyone Has A Ghost Story October 31, 2009

…the fog is rising.

–  Emily Dickinson’s last words

Everyone Has A Ghost Story

© D. Erick Emert

My wife and I were driving a U-Haul from Toledo, Ohio to Phoenix, Arizona on the 27^th of December back in 1997.  It had been snowing when we left Ohio but it turned to rain in Indiana and a heavy mist as we entered Illinois.  We were traveling along route 70, heading toward our first sleep stop in St. Louis.  It was about 4 in the morning as we zipped along at 75mph somewhere between Greenville and Pierron.  The mist had turned into a heavy fog, making visibility difficult.  Fortunately, traffic was nil for the most part.

This particular part of route 70 had three lanes coming and going with a ten to fifteen yard strip of land acting as a median between the two roadways.  I hadn’t seen a pair of headlights in either direction for about a good thirty minutes.  We were making good time.

I was driving in the middle lane as we approached an overpass somewhere near Pocahontas.  It might have been Pokey Road, though I’m not sure.  As I drew nearer the overpass, I noticed two teens sitting along the left side of the road on the median.  It looked to me to be a guy and a girl, but through the fog it was difficult to tell.  They both wore jeans, and ski jackets and had backpacks piled up beside them.  When the guy saw my headlights, he stood up waving his arms and walked onto the highway.

I hit the brakes slowing down but I had no intention of stopping.  The guy kept moving out near the center of the three lane road, still waving his arms.  I slowed even more as I approached him, guiding my car into the right-hand lane.  As I was about to pass him, the guy jumped out in front of my car.  I jammed on my brakes, sliding forward and zigzagging on the wet throughway. My wife screamed and through her arms over her eyes. There was no way I could have missed him, but I felt no bump whatsoever.

More than a bit shook up, I stopped the car, getting out to see what happened to the guy.  I looked around the car.  Nothing.  I looked back to where his friend was sitting.  Nothing.  There wasn’t another human being around.

I got back in my car and my wife asked if we hit the kid.  I shook my head and told her there was no one around.  Neither the guy nor his girlfriend.  Both of us had seen two people quite distinctly that proved to be not there.  True it was foggy.  True it was 4 in the morning and I was tired.  But my wife and I had seen both teens as plain as the odometer on my dashboard.

Now I’ve heard of this sort of thing happening, but it’s a big difference when it happens to you.  Everyone has their ghost story.  Now I had mine.