A Night In My Car: The Terrifying Nosleep Experience

Sleeping in your car might seem like a good idea when you're on a road trip, but it can be dangerous. Reddit users have shared their scary experiences of sleeping in their cars, from being stalked by a serial killer to being attacked by a woman running on all fours. Some states in the US have restrictions on sleeping in your car, so it's important to check the local laws before planning a car-camping trip.

A road trip gone wrong

I had always loved road trips. Even as a child, I was thrilled by the notion of relaxing in my seat as the world whizzed by. This love only grew as I got older. By the time I got my driver's license, I was taking small road trips every few months. They were simple explorations—a nearby campground or a friend's house—but they gave me a taste for it.

I had always slept in my car on these trips. I didn't see the need to spend my money on some overpriced motel. Besides, at the time, I could barely afford rent. I became skilled at it: spotting places to sleep, creating makeshift tables and beds, and properly insulating my car in the winter.

I had never felt unsettled sleeping alone in my car as the night sky turned to dawn. Instead, I found it serene, waking up to the picturesque landscapes that surrounded me. But my opinions would soon change.

It all started when I decided to pay my parents a long-awaited visit. We had been very close during my childhood, but we had grown apart when I moved three states away for college. I called them and arranged to see them the following weekend. I received time off work and began planning my route.

I would be travelling from my apartment in Washington to their house in California. I planned to sleep in my car around the halfway mark, then arrive at their home the next afternoon. I packed my things and set off early the next morning.

I spent most of the car ride listening to music and investing myself in audiobooks and podcasts. As the sun set behind the surrounding mountains, I began to search for a secluded area to park. After a few minutes, I found it: an old, abandoned rest stop surrounded by tall trees and thick, mossy foliage. I pulled into the parking lot and stopped my car. I put the back seats down and created a makeshift bed. I quickly fell asleep.

I awoke at dawn and got an early start as planned. The rest of the car ride went off without a hitch, and that afternoon I arrived at my parents' house. We spent the weekend catching up and it was wonderful to see them again after such a long time.

The next morning, I navigated out of their city and was soon back on the open road. But night seemed to creep up on me much quicker this time. Before I knew it, I was surrounded by darkness. The tall, looming trees and thick bushes appeared much more sinister than before. They took on the appearance of thin, crooked arms, reaching out to grab me.

I tried to spot a place to park, but this road seemed to go on endlessly. I became unnerved, all alone in the darkness. Sometimes, I swore I saw dark figures in the bushes and hiding behind trees. I chalked this up to my exhaustion and tried to put it out of my mind, but I stayed wary and would glance behind my seat every few minutes.

Finally, I spotted an upcoming pull-off, which I gladly took. I slowed my car down and parked on the roadside. I repeated my usual routine of creating a bed. I laid down to rest and closed my eyes. Exhaustion overcame me and I quickly drifted into sleep.

Knockknock. The loud banging swiftly awakened me. I cautiously raised my head.

"Hello, is anyone in there?" an almost inhuman voice asked. I said nothing, too enveloped in fear to respond. "I'm just looking for directions to the nearest town," he continued. I was about to say something, but then I thought to myself, why would someone be out this late on some deserted back-road?

"I was hiking with my friends and... well, they're gone now," he spoke with an ominous chuckle. "Can you just open the door so we can speak face to face?"

Something deep inside me told me not to answer. In fear, I pulled my covers over my head. He then began to pound on the door, shrieking incoherently. This continued for several minutes before stopping abruptly. I breathed a sigh of relief, but this victory was short-lived. Then the scratching started. Thick, ear-piercing scratching filled my ears. This continued for hours, and somehow, I fell back into sleep.

I awoke several hours later in a sweaty mess of fright. Light rain poured down outside my window. I wasted no time getting back on the road, with no intention of sticking around that dreadful place. I got my bearings together and felt relaxed after I had driven for hours. That was until I pulled into a gas station.

I stepped out of my car and breathed in the fresh air. It was comforting to be around other people. I was close to accepting the fact that I had likely imagined the events of the previous night. I peered down at my outside car door and froze. There, carved into the metal surface, were several thick, deep gashes. I hurried out of the store and back into my car, riding back to my apartment without stopping.

This has been haunting me ever since I arrived back home. Paranoia has taken over me. All my blinds are closed, and I have at least one weapon on me at all times. I've researched possible scientific explanations, but this has yielded little result.

I'm scared to leave my apartment complex, although I desperately need human interaction. I want to inform the police, but I already know my story would not be believed. Whatever lurks on the back-roads of Oregon is still a mystery.

I don't know what came to me that night. Neither do I know why it did. All I know for sure is that you should NEVER sleep in your car at night.

A close encounter with a serial killer

I had always enjoyed long car rides. As a child, I was thrilled by the notion of relaxing in my seat while the outside world whizzed by. This love for car rides only grew as I got older. By the time I got my driver's license, I was embarking on small road trips every few months. They were simple explorations—a nearby campground or a friend's house—but they gave me a taste for adventure.

I had become quite skilled at sleeping in my car. Spotting places to sleep, creating makeshift tables and beds, and properly insulating my car in the winter months all became second nature to me. I had never felt unsafe sleeping alone in my car, but that was all about to change.

It all started when I decided to pay my parents a long-awaited visit. We were very close when I was a child, but we had grown apart after I moved three states away for college. I called them and arranged to see them the following weekend. I took time off work and began planning my route.

I would be travelling from my apartment in Washington to their house in California. I planned to sleep in my car around the halfway mark and arrive at their home the next afternoon. I packed my things and set off early the next morning.

I spent most of the car ride listening to music and investing myself in audiobooks and podcasts. As the sun set behind the surrounding mountains, I began to search for a secluded area to park for the night. After a few minutes of looking, I found the perfect spot—an old, abandoned rest stop surrounded by tall trees and thick, mossy Oregon foliage. I pulled into the parking lot and stopped my car. I put the back seats down and created a makeshift bed. I quickly fell asleep.

I awoke at dawn and got an early start as planned. The rest of the car ride went off without a hitch, and that afternoon, I arrived at my parents' house. We spent the weekend catching up, drinking on their deck, and swimming in their pool. It was nice to see them again after such a long time. However, I wouldn't be writing this if that was all that happened.

The next morning, I said my goodbyes and began the long drive back to Washington. Night seemed to creep up on me much faster this time. Before I knew it, I was surrounded by darkness. The tall, looming trees and thick bushes appeared much more sinister than before. They took on the appearance of thin, crooked arms, reaching out to grab me.

I tried to spot a place to park, but the road seemed to go on endlessly. I became a bit unnerved, all alone in the darkness. Sometimes, I swore I saw dark figures in the bushes and hiding behind trees. I chalked this up to my exhaustion and tried to put it out of my mind, but I stayed wary and would glance behind my seat every few minutes.

Finally, I spotted an upcoming pull-off and took it. At this point, I hardly cared where it went; I just wanted to get off that endless road. It led me to a desolate back road that seemed to have been uninhabited for years. I slowed my car down and parked on the roadside. I repeated my usual routine of creating a bed and laid down to rest. Exhaustion overcame me, and I quickly drifted off to sleep.

Knock knock. The loud banging abruptly awakened me. I cautiously raised my head. "Hello, is anyone in there?" an almost inhuman voice asked. I said nothing, too enveloped in fear to respond. "I'm just looking for directions to the nearest town," the voice continued. I was about to say something, but then I thought to myself, why would someone be out this late on some deserted back road in Oregon?

"I was hiking with my friends and... well, they're gone now," he spoke with an ominous chuckle. "Can you just open the door so we can speak face to face?"

Something deep inside me told me not to answer. In fear, I pulled my covers over my head. The man then began to pound on the door, shrieking incoherently. This continued for several minutes before stopping abruptly. I breathed a sigh of relief, but this victory was short-lived. Then, the scratching started—thick, ear-piercing scratching that filled my ears. This continued for hours, and somehow, I fell back to sleep through the horrific sounds.

I awoke several hours later in a sweaty mess of fright. Light rain poured down outside my window. I wasted no time getting back on the road because I had no intention of sticking around that dreadful place. I got my bearings together and felt relieved after I had driven for hours and was far away. That was until I pulled into a gas station.

I stepped out of my car and breathed in the fresh air. It was comforting to be around other people. I was close to accepting the fact that I had likely imagined the events of the previous night. I peered down at my car door and froze. There, carved into the metal surface, were several thick, deep gashes. I promptly hurried out of the store and back into my car and drove back to my apartment without stopping.

This encounter has haunted me ever since I arrived home. Paranoia has taken over me. All my blinds are closed, and I have at least one weapon on me at all times. I've researched possible scientific explanations, but this has yielded little result.

I'm scared to leave my apartment, although I desperately need human interaction. I want to inform the police, but I already know my story won't be believed. Whatever lurks on the back roads of Oregon remains a mystery.

I don't know what came to me that night. Neither do I know why it did. All I know for sure is that you should NEVER sleep in your car at night.

A satanic cult

I was driving a shortcut from Twentynine Palms, CA to Albuquerque, NM. Twentynine Palms is located in the desolate high desert east of LA. The shortcut was all two-lane road through total nothingness, except for passing through Amboy, CA. Amboy is a nearly abandoned town nearly as far below sea level as Death Valley, with a dormant volcano and lava field on one side and a salt flat on the other. It was also, at the time, a hotspot for satanic group activity.

I was driving by myself in the afternoon. I stopped in Amboy and snapped a picture of the city sign, just to prove I was there to friends who dared me to take that route to I-40. I got back in my car and proceeded to drive up into the mountain range between Amboy and I-40.

Once I reached the top I was driving north through a canyon with high grass on both sides of the road. Up ahead I saw some stuff in the middle of the road. As I approached I slowed down to see a red Pontiac Fiero stopped sideways across both lanes, a suitcase open with clothes scattered everywhere and two bodies laying face down in the road, a man and a woman.

I stopped about a hundred feet away and the hair on the back of my neck was standing up. Being a Marine, I reached under the seat and pulled out a 9mm pistol and chambered a round. Something seemed very wrong, it looked too perfect as if it were staged. An ambush? Was I being paranoid? Something was just wrong. Getting out of the car seemed unthinkable, it was the horror movie move.

As I scanned the road I saw a line I could drive. Pass the guy in the road on his left, swerve to the right side of the woman, behind the Fiero and I'd be on the other side. I dropped it into first gear, punched it and drove the line I planned.

I passed the back of the Fiero without hitting it or either of the bodies in the road. I continued forward a couple of hundred feet and slowed down so I could breathe and let my heart slow down. As I looked up into the rearview mirror I saw that the two bodies had gotten up to their knees and twenty or so people emerged from the tall grass on either side of the road by the car and bodies.

At that moment my right foot smashed the gas pedal to the floor and did not let up until I had to slow down for the I-40 east onramp.

I will never know what would have happened to me had I gotten out of the car to check on the bodies or stopped my car closer to them. Somehow I do not think it would have been good. Sometimes real life can be scarier than a movie.

I was making my way back home, taking the I-64 out of Lewisburg. It started with the radio. It was playing that one Macklemore song I’d heard a hundred times over. The sound was cutting in and out in a quick staccato, then disappeared completely. I could hear cars honking up front as a line began to form. There was a sway in the trees, as if greater and greater pressure was being put on them. I could hear wind rushing against the left side of the car, forcing me to pull the other way to compensate. I closed the sunroof as a dust cloud blew past, staining the windshield.

Then, a rumble. It sounded like thunder, but from the ground. Like a groaning bellow, growing louder and clearer by the second. As it reached its peak, I could see trees toppling over. A small Kia got pushed off-balance and swerved off the road. As the sound died down, the road devolved into chaos. Some were desperately changing lanes, others were stepping on the brakes. I got my door scraped as the car behind me sped past.

The radio was playing an automated message. A local emergency alert, referred to as a ‘geological event’. We were asked to turn off all air conditioning, slow down, and divert to the nearest exit. It repeated in a monotone voice. Geological event. No air conditioning. Slow down. Divert to the nearest exit.

Minutes passed. There was a line forming further down the road. Police officers were blocking the lanes in all directions, leaving a highway exit as the only option. Some folks were trying to push past the barricades but were forced back at gunpoint. I could see officers wearing gas masks and riot shields. We were waved in.

I followed the exit and got directed to the right. There was an open field that was used as a sort of impromptu parking lot. Cars were being waved in and parked in a way that boxed us in, leaving no room for us to open our doors in either direction unless we got parked at the edge.

Four lines of cars with about 10-15 vehicles per line. Surplus vehicles were directed further down the road. The place was packed. I got stuck in the second row, about six cars in.

Pretty much everyone around me was on their phones. I didn’t have anyone to call, but there seemed to be an issue getting a signal through. The radio was still repeating the emergency message. Voices were getting louder. A man two cars to my left leaned out of a gap in the door, screaming at the officers to answer his question. They responded immediately with a warning shot, straight into the air.

“Stay in your vehicle!” they screamed. “Lock your doors! I’m not telling you again!”

A couple of folks were filming, but there seemed to be trouble uploading. We were losing bandwidth. It didn’t take long until phone signals were completely blocked. I think a video or two of that officer firing into the air made it online.

They were patrolling back and forth. We were told to stay in our vehicles. Windows up. Doors closed and locked. Engines off.

I could hear people talking in the other cars. Someone said there’d been a natural gas leak from the ‘geological event’, and that combustible engines could spark an explosion. Others were talking about a terrorist attack. There were no answers, and the officers weren’t eager to talk.

After about an hour, things were getting ugly. People were hungry, thirsty, and restless. One officer stepped up on the front cars, handing out water bottles, crackers, and processed cheese slices. He had to step from one car to another, denting the hoods with his steel-tipped shoes. They were also handing out thick black plastic ‘hygiene bags’ for people who needed to relieve themselves.

“Use ‘em, seal ‘em, drop ‘em out the door. Then lock up and wait.”

I’d crawled into the back seat, pulled down my cap, and tried to relax. I’d been playing some games on my phone, but the battery was running low. I wanted to save some, so I settled for having a nap instead. The sweat was stinging my eyes. Not because of how warm it was, but because of how nervous I was. No matter what I did, I felt trapped, and the car felt smaller and smaller. I couldn’t get out if I wanted to, and it physically hurt me to think about how little control I had. Is that what claustrophobia feels like?

A couple of officers were discussing something by the front line. One of them had a white cotton glove on, which he used to wipe off the hood of one of the front cars. The glove was taken off and put into a bag, which in turn was sealed with a hot air gun. I was getting the impression that our cars had been covered in something.

I wasn’t the only one considering it. There were two college kids in the car to my left, and they were discussing it too.

“Anthrax,” one of them said. “Gotta be.”

“Nah, gold dust,” the other chuckled. “They don’t wanna share.”

“You know what?” the first groaned. “I honest to God hope you’re right. You’re not, but I hope you are.”

I joined in the conversation shortly after. I offered another explanation; something combustible. Something that might blow up if we started our cars. They were willing to consider this. The car behind me couldn’t hear us, but the driver held up a notebook with the text; “If we duno wut its gota be alyuns”. I couldn’t tell if they were serious, but they weren’t laughing about it. A man in his 50’s and what looked like his daughter.

There were a couple of other folks in the other cars. A man in a black shirt, sort of looked like a preacher without a collar. Two middle-aged women with a kid in the back seat. A fat man blaring Johnny Cash from his stereo. A couple with a teenage son who couldn’t stop drumming on the windows.

We’d been stuck for about two, maybe two and a half hours, when a truck rolled in. One of those with a large water tank. It was unmarked; it looked civilian. As it rolled in, they were calling out on the megaphone.

“We’ll be hosing your vehicles down,” they said. “Keep everything locked and closed. Then we’ll be covering your vehicle with protective plastic while we wait for it to dry. After that, we’ll start letting you go in an orderly manner. I repeat…”

Most of us were relieved. It was only a matter of time now. It was getting dark. They were getting up on the cars, hosing them down thoroughly. It smelled of chlorine, so maybe they’d mixed something into the water. As they came to my car, they stepped up on it and double-checked the sunroof; making sure it was locked and secured. They sprayed the car down, bathing it in chemical stink. The kind that gets stuck to the back of your throat.

It took a long time for them to finish – at least an hour or two. After that, they were rolling out a kind of plastic cover at the short side of the lot; the kind you use to protect pools, or rain covers for football fields. They used two squad cars to slowly drape the thing over the entire lot, securing the edges with large rocks.

“Please stay calm!” they called out as the plastic crawled over us. “I know this is uncomfortable, but this is for your own safety! Once the cleaning is done, you will be free to go! Stay inside your vehicle at all times! I repeat…”

I did as I was told. I stayed inside, and I watched that plastic cover sweep over me. It felt like getting buried alive. All lights went out, leaving me in complete darkness – accompanied only by the vague disembodied voices of the others. The college kids were talking about where they were gonna go after this. Someone was honking – not sure if it was to show support or discontent. Someone else was cheering. I took my last swig of water, washing down my final plain cracker.

I got back in the driver’s seat. I could hear as they finished moving the plastic cover and parking their squad vehicles. I waited patiently, figuring it’d be maybe another hour or so. They hadn’t really given us a timeline, but I could breathe a little easier. Sort of. I was going back and forth between feeling empowered with my hands on the wheel, and feeling like I was stuck in a metal coffin. It was so dark, and everything smelt of plastic and chemicals. Like a car wash stuck in time.

As the excitement died down, I paid more attention to the background sounds. I tried to filter out the various discussions from the nearby cars, and somewhere in the distance, I heard raised voices. It wasn’t coming from the cars, but the officers. Whatever they were talking about, it was a heated discussion.

An hour came and went, and people were getting impatient. More cars were honking. Others were yelling, demanding answers. I couldn’t get my leg to stop shaking. The more I thought about getting out of there, the smaller the car felt. I was hyper-focusing on things I couldn’t control. I was a little thirsty, and I was out of water. I needed to use the bathroom. I wanted to stretch my legs and go for a walk. I wanted to breathe fresh air and get that awful chemical taste out of my mouth.

I heard cars starting. Accelerating. The truck was moving, somewhere off to the side.

“We need you to stay in your vehicle!” a voice screamed over the megaphone. “Do not leave, for any reason! Stay! In! Your! Vehicle!”

Cars were speeding off. Not many, but a couple. Then – quiet.

The officers left us there.

Everyone was quiet. A couple of folks had opened up their phones, using them as flashlights to look from car to car. Looking out at the sea of vehicles, all of us trapped under that dark cover, I could see a handful of lights cut off by sharp silhouettes. I couldn’t make out who was who in the dark; it was all just people. Anonymous.

I heard a gasp somewhere in the back. There was a metallic clunk, like when the officers climbed atop our cars to get us our water. There was a careful cheer as some folks figured they were taking off the plastic cover.

But that wasn’t it. Instead, there were more footsteps. The cheers slowly died down as more and more footsteps pattered across our cars. I stopped counting after a dozen.

The silhouettes in the other cars were still. We all held our breaths, waiting for an answer to show itself. What the hell was going on? What was that sound?

Somewhere off to my right, I heard a voice.

“…who’s up there?”

It sounded like an older man. I’d seen a pickup truck that way earlier. Almost as a response, the footsteps stopped. There was a faint clicking sound, like someone snapping their tongue against the roof of their mouth. Click click. And from further away, a click in response. From somewhere to my left, another couple clicks.

Then, a cascade of clicks. Dozens. Maybe hundreds.

There was an awful metallic noise coming from my right. Then, breaking glass. A scream, cut short, followed by several irregular taps of the car horn. One of the silhouettes in the distance turned into a blur as something passed through the windshield, cutting through the plastic cover.

Somewhere in the front row, the roof of a car was cut wide open. Someone was pulled up out of their seat. Two cars back from where I was, there was more glass breaking. It sounded like a wild animal got in. I could see a weak hint of red spattered against the passenger side windows.

I wasn’t getting any air. I could feel my heart beating through my chest as my arms started shaking. My hands were cramped around the steering wheel, and I felt sweat dripping down my shoulders. I couldn’t control it. I didn’t even see what was going on, but these sounds, these screams – they awakened something primal. This was danger. A threat. My body knew long before I did.

The college kids in the other car were ducking down. One of them waved a hand at me, as if telling me to get down. I nodded.

I scrambled into the back seat. I couldn’t see where I was putting my hands or my feet. Everything is different in the dark. As I tumbled my way over, my foot accidentally tapped the car horn.

It was a quick tap. A fraction of a second. But to me, it was the loudest sound in the world.

I was lying on my stomach in the back seat, and within seconds, something heavy climbed onto the hood of my car. I could feel the car buckling; it was much heavier than the man who’d passed out water bottles. I held my hands in front of my mouth to stop the panting, but I just ended up snorting up sweat instead. My nose stung as I bit my tongue, listening to every metallic groan as whatever was outside moved and shifted.

Click click. And from behind my car, a click in response.

There were no lights being held up anymore. Everyone was cowering, going quiet. I pushed myself up against the door behind the driver’s seat, trying to make myself as small as possible. I could hear the frame of the car complain as something slowly moved. When it came to my sunroof, there was a slight crack. That made it stop.

Another crack. I silently shook my head, as if trying to ask the car to stop. That thing was going to break.

My legs were showered with glass as a big blob of plastic cover dipped into my car. Something big came tumbling into the front seat, still covered in protective plastic. It twitched and spun around; it’s clicking turning from a careful question-like noise to a never-ending barrage. It was calling for help, alerting others. And it was cutting its way through the plastic.

There were footsteps coming from every direction. Some of them leaping from car to car. Some of them leaping far enough to skip a car as they hurried. I was going to be swarmed within seconds.

I fumbled with my hands, accidentally cutting my thumb on the broken glass. I managed to open the passenger-side door, but even at its widest, and even when pressing into the college kids’ car, it wasn’t enough room to get out. Still, I had to try. I pressed myself into the gap and exhaled as much as I could, flattening my chest.

While the thing thrashed around inside my car, I could feel my vision going faint. Black spots popped up at the edge of my vision. My arms were going weak. And yet by some miracle, I made it through. As my face hit the gravel of the makeshift parking lot, I felt the burn of residual chemicals. I swallowed my instinct to run, instead staying on my stomach; forcing myself to crawl under my car.

There were more of them. Some climbing on, some off. My chest was pressed to the ground as the weight shifted. I heard breaking glass from the windshield and tearing fabric. Something was stuck up there,

A woman with a 'permanent grin'

A Woman with a Permanent Grin

I had always loved long car rides. Even as a child, I was thrilled at the notion of relaxing in my seat while the outside world whizzed by. This enjoyment only grew as I got older. By the time I got my driver's license, I was embarking on small road trips every few months. They were simple explorations—a nearby campground or a friend's house—but it gave me a feel for it.

I had become decently skilled at sleeping in my car. Spotting places to sleep, creating makeshift tables and beds, properly insulating my car in the winter months, all became second nature to me. I had never felt unsettled, sleeping in my car while the night sky turned to dawn. Instead, I found it serene, waking up to whatever picturesque landscape surrounded me. But my opinions have greatly changed from then. I doubt I'll be sleeping in a car anytime soon without the protection of a firearm.

It all started when I decided to pay my parents a long-awaited visit. We were very close in my childhood, but we had grown apart when I moved three states away for college. I called them and arranged to see them the following weekend. I received time off work and began planning my route.

I would be travelling from my apartment in Washington to their lovely three-story house in California. I planned to sleep in my car around the halfway mark, and then arrive at their home the next afternoon. I packed my things and set off on the road early the next morning.

I spent most of that car ride jamming out to my rock collection and investing myself in audiobooks and podcasts. As the sun faded behind the surrounding mountains, I began to search for a secluded area for me to park. After several minutes of looking, I found it: an old, abandoned rest stop surrounded by tall trees and thick, mossy Oregon foliage. I pulled into the parking lot and stopped my car. I put my back seats down and created a makeshift bed out of my sleeping bag, a few blankets, and several pillows. I quickly fell asleep.

I awoke at dawn and returned my back seat to its normal state. I got an early start as planned. Besides a little traffic, the rest of that car ride went off without a hitch. That afternoon I arrived at my parents' house, where they were excitedly waiting for me. We spent the weekend catching up, drinking on their deck, and swimming in their luxurious pool. It was quite nice to get to see them again after such a long time away. The whole experience was memorable and wonderful. However, I wouldn't be writing this if that was all that happened.

The morning came for me to leave, and we said our goodbyes. Navigating out of their city was a bit of a chore, but soon, it was just me and the open road. Night seemed to creep up on me much quicker. Before I knew it, I was surrounded by darkness. The tall, looming trees and thick bushes appeared much more sinister than before. They took on the appearance of thin, crooked arms, reaching out to grab me.

I tried to spot a place to park, but this road seemed to go on endlessly. I became a bit unnerved, all alone in the darkness. Sometimes, I swore I saw dark figures in the bushes and hiding behind trees. I chalked this up to my exhaustion and tried to put it out of my mind. I still stayed wary and would glance behind my seat every few minutes.

Finally, I spotted an upcoming pull-off, which I gladly took. At this point, I hardly cared where it went—I just wanted to leave that seemingly endless road. It led me to a desolate back road that seemed to have not been inhabited for years. I slowed my car down and parked on the roadside. I repeated my usual routine of creating a bed. I lay down to rest and closed my eyes. Exhaustion overcame me, and I quickly drifted into sleep.

Knock knock. The loud banging swiftly awakened me. I cautiously raised my head. "Hello, is anyone in there?" an almost inhuman voice asked. I said nothing, too enveloped in fear to respond. "I'm just looking for directions to the nearest town," he continued. I was about to say something, but then I thought to myself, why would someone be out this late on some deserted back road in Oregon?

"I was hiking with my friends and... well, they're gone now," he spoke with an ominous chuckle. "Can you just open the door so we can speak face to face?"

Something deep inside me told me not to answer. In fear, I pulled my covers over my head. He then began to pound on the door, shrieking incoherently. This continued for several minutes before stopping abruptly. I breathed a sigh of relief. This victory was short-lived, for then the scratching started. Thick, ear-piercing scratching filled my ears. This continued for what felt like hours, and somehow, I fell back into sleep through the horrific sounds.

I awoke several hours later in a sweaty mess of fright. Light rain poured down outside my window. I wasted no time getting back on the road, for I had no intention of sticking around that dreadful place. I got my bearings together and felt relaxed after I had driven hours away. That was until I pulled into a gas station.

I stepped onto the pavement and breathed in the fresh air. It was very comforting to have other normal people around me. I was close to accepting the fact that I had likely imagined the events of the previous night. I peered down at my outside car door and froze. There, carved into the metal surface, were several thick, deep gashes. I promptly hurried out of the store and into my car and rode back to my apartment without stopping.

This has been haunting me ever since I arrived back home. Paranoia has taken over me. All my blinds are closed, and I have at least one weapon on me at all times. I've researched possible scientific explanations, but this has yielded little result.

I'm scared to leave my apartment complex, although I desperately need human interaction. I want to inform the police, but I already know my story would not be believed. Whatever lurks in the back roads of Oregon is still a mystery.

I don't know what came to me that night. Neither do I know why it did. All I know for sure is that you should NEVER sleep in your car at night.

A 'geological event'

A Geological Event

I was driving home from my aunt's place in West Virginia. It was hotter than usual, and there wasn't a hint of wind. I was taking the I-64 out of Lewisburg when things started to get weird. First, the radio cut out. Then, there was a swaying in the trees as if there was a great pressure pushing against them. The wind rushed against my car, and I had to compensate by pulling the wheel to the side. I closed the sunroof as a dust cloud blew past, staining the windshield.

Then, I heard a rumble. It sounded like thunder, but from the ground. The trees started to topple over, and a small car swerved off the road. As the sound died down, chaos ensued. Cars were changing lanes, others were braking suddenly. My car got scraped as the one behind me sped past. The radio started playing an automated message, referring to a 'geological event' and instructing us to turn off our air conditioning, slow down, and exit the highway.

Minutes later, there was a line of cars, and police officers were blocking the lanes, leaving only one exit open. The officers were wearing gas masks and riot shields, and they directed us to an open field that was being used as a parking lot. My car was boxed in, with no room to open the doors. I could see folks around me on their phones, but I couldn't get a signal. The officers were patrolling, instructing us to stay in our vehicles with the windows up and doors locked.

After about an hour, things started to get ugly. People were hungry, thirsty, and restless. An officer distributed water, crackers, and cheese, but tensions were high. We were told to use the 'hygiene bags' if we needed to relieve ourselves, then lock up and wait. I crawled into the back seat, pulled down my cap, and tried to relax, but I felt trapped. I wanted to get out, stretch my legs, and breathe fresh air.

A couple of officers seemed to be discussing something by the front line. One of them had a white cotton glove, which he used to wipe the hood of a car, before putting it into a bag and sealing it with a hot air gun. It seemed like our cars had been covered in something. I joined a conversation with some college kids in the car next to me, and we speculated about what it could be. Anthrax? Gold dust? Something combustible?

We were stuck for about two and a half hours before a truck rolled in. It was unmarked and looked civilian. They announced that they would be hosing down our vehicles and then covering the entire lot with protective plastic while we waited for it to dry. Then, we'd be free to go. I felt a little relief, but I was also getting more and more claustrophobic.

It took a long time for them to finish hosing down the cars and drape the plastic cover over the lot. It felt like I was getting buried alive. All the lights went out, and I was left in complete darkness, accompanied only by the distant voices of the others. I got back into the driver's seat and tried to focus on the background sounds. I could hear the officers talking, and it sounded like a heated discussion.

Another hour passed, and people were getting impatient. Some cars started to speed off. Then, the officers left us. Everyone was quiet. I heard a gasp, and there was a metallic clunk, like someone climbing onto a car. There were careful cheers as folks thought they were taking off the plastic cover. But then, there were more footsteps.

I heard breaking glass from the windshield and tearing fabric. Something was stuck up there and furious, like a trapped animal. I heard the college kids next to me mumbling to each other, trying to stay calm. Then, something slammed into the passenger-side door, and it fell off its hinges.

I saw an ink-black, bird-like foot touch the ground next to me. It had three toes forward and one backward, all clawed. It must have been heavy—at least 400 pounds. I froze. The thing rose to its full length, easily over seven feet tall. It looked ready to pounce, but then it just looked at me, curiously. It raised a slice of raw meat, blood dripping onto the plastic cover, and took a bite. Then, it wandered off.

The officers returned, and the plastic cover was removed, but we couldn't go home. Some folks signed a waiver and were let go, while others demanded answers and were taken into custody. A total of fourteen people died, and thirty-four cars had to be towed. I signed a non-disclosure agreement and was allowed to leave.

I still get trouble breathing sometimes. Closing my eyes reminds me of lying under those cars, feeling the weight shift.

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