The "Creative Writing" forum, which includes Retro Game Reviews, has been archived and is now read-only. You cannot post here or create a new thread or review on this forum.
So this is how I spend the final few minutes of my life. I never really imagined anything quite so bizarre.
But I digress; let me take you back to how I got here. I was travelling down the A38 on another late night car journey. The nights weren’t so bad, no traffic on the road and soothing tunes on the radio, none of that pop music stuff. To tell you the truth, I quite enjoyed it. It was like a whole separate life, away from the girlfriend and the workplace, somewhere in-between.
This was another quiet night, hardly another car in sight, even on the opposite lane. The carriageway wasn’t lit that well, I remember thinking that the council should provide some lighting. That’s when she appeared.
I’d heard of phantom hitch-hikers before, of course. Who hasn’t? People on the side of the road that you pick up and then they vanish half way to your destination. I’d also heard it was something to do with Micro-sleep. So when she appeared in my car, I took it in my stride.
‘She’ was a girl of about 22, fair har and a white skin tone that reminded you of English winters. The typical English rose in winter, I presume. I guess the other important fact was that she wasn’t dressed. I could quite clearly see that from the glistening pale skin where even the smallest amount of clothes should have been. She was pretty, too. So I immediately thought that it must be a dream. You would, wouldn’t you?
Anyway, she turned to me and smiled. We didn’t share a single word. She pointed at the road up ahead and we carried on driving. Then, quite suddenly, she disappeared. I looked to see where I was and noticed a graveyard on my right. Without thinking, I must have turned down some lane off of the main road. Although I didn't know the route and didn't even remember any landmarks. it didn’t take me long to find myself back in the main road and before I could mull the incident over too much I was home.
A week later I found myself driving down the same stretch of road. My thoughts had only just begun to wonder to that week previous when I noticed that she was sat there yet again. Again, I put it down to those micro dreams, and again she pointed to the road in front. But this time I tried to keep an eye on where I was going. Before long I found myself turning off the main road, with no control over my actions. Yet again I saw the cemetery and the girl vanished. For the life of me, I couldn't remember how I'd got there. Perhaps there was more to this than simply dreaming?
The next week I expected her and she arrived. The same girl at the same place. This power over me was feeling stronger now and I felt that there was no way I could control the outcome of this journey. Sure enough, we ended up at the cemetery, all but stopping as we passed. But this time I noticed a certain grave. Illuminated by the moonlight I could clearly see a name. My name. So perhaps this was an omen? Or a warning? What must I avoid?
I spent the next few days trawling through books trying to find something similar. My heart sank as the only thing I could find were stories of sirens, not of the Odysseus kind, but of spirits of young women preparing people for their inevitable deaths. An old equivalent of angels, perhaps.
Was I to die in that spot? I could quite easily avoid it in normal circumstances. So how would I end up there. Every night I would look for that girl, so I could ask her the question, but she didn’t come. Until one night. I’d all but given up, thinking myself a fool for taking in such fantasies. Then she appeared. I was startled, though I should have been ready. But I still asked.
“Is this the where I’m supposed to die?” I asked.
All she did was smile and point and guide the way to our deadly destination.
Weeks became months and grew colder. Now the snow is falling and I find myself on the same stretch of road. But this time I’ve decided to find the cemetery myself. Perhaps it was a foolish task. The roads here can go on forever into the countryside and who knows how far from any town this graveyard could be? But at least I’d had the sense to draw a map after the last encounter. So I trekked off in my car, those soothing songs playing the background music to my own magical mystery tour.
Though she hadn’t appeared this time, I feel I’ve been under her spell all the time. It’s only now that I look at my petrol gauge and realise that it’s empty. I had to stop anyway, the snow is falling so thick now that I can’t even see in front of me. I tried to get out and look around, but it was so cold and there were no lights anywhere nearby, I don’t think I’d make it too far over these hills.
After a mild panic attack, I realised that all I could do was sit here in the car. My heater failed me over half an hour ago and all I have left to do is write this, my warning to anyone who might find this. I don’t give it long now before I freeze. I can only just feel my fingers to write this down. I would have more hope, but through the driving snow the cold light of the moon illuminates several headstones to my left.
But I digress; let me take you back to how I got here. I was travelling down the A38 on another late night car journey. The nights weren’t so bad, no traffic on the road and soothing tunes on the radio, none of that pop music stuff. To tell you the truth, I quite enjoyed it. It was like a whole separate life, away from the girlfriend and the workplace, somewhere in-between.
This was another quiet night, hardly another car in sight, even on the opposite lane. The carriageway wasn’t lit that well, I remember thinking that the council should provide some lighting. That’s when she appeared.
I’d heard of phantom hitch-hikers before, of course. Who hasn’t? People on the side of the road that you pick up and then they vanish half way to your destination. I’d also heard it was something to do with Micro-sleep. So when she appeared in my car, I took it in my stride.
‘She’ was a girl of about 22, fair har and a white skin tone that reminded you of English winters. The typical English rose in winter, I presume. I guess the other important fact was that she wasn’t dressed. I could quite clearly see that from the glistening pale skin where even the smallest amount of clothes should have been. She was pretty, too. So I immediately thought that it must be a dream. You would, wouldn’t you?
Anyway, she turned to me and smiled. We didn’t share a single word. She pointed at the road up ahead and we carried on driving. Then, quite suddenly, she disappeared. I looked to see where I was and noticed a graveyard on my right. Without thinking, I must have turned down some lane off of the main road. Although I didn't know the route and didn't even remember any landmarks. it didn’t take me long to find myself back in the main road and before I could mull the incident over too much I was home.
A week later I found myself driving down the same stretch of road. My thoughts had only just begun to wonder to that week previous when I noticed that she was sat there yet again. Again, I put it down to those micro dreams, and again she pointed to the road in front. But this time I tried to keep an eye on where I was going. Before long I found myself turning off the main road, with no control over my actions. Yet again I saw the cemetery and the girl vanished. For the life of me, I couldn't remember how I'd got there. Perhaps there was more to this than simply dreaming?
The next week I expected her and she arrived. The same girl at the same place. This power over me was feeling stronger now and I felt that there was no way I could control the outcome of this journey. Sure enough, we ended up at the cemetery, all but stopping as we passed. But this time I noticed a certain grave. Illuminated by the moonlight I could clearly see a name. My name. So perhaps this was an omen? Or a warning? What must I avoid?
I spent the next few days trawling through books trying to find something similar. My heart sank as the only thing I could find were stories of sirens, not of the Odysseus kind, but of spirits of young women preparing people for their inevitable deaths. An old equivalent of angels, perhaps.
Was I to die in that spot? I could quite easily avoid it in normal circumstances. So how would I end up there. Every night I would look for that girl, so I could ask her the question, but she didn’t come. Until one night. I’d all but given up, thinking myself a fool for taking in such fantasies. Then she appeared. I was startled, though I should have been ready. But I still asked.
“Is this the where I’m supposed to die?” I asked.
All she did was smile and point and guide the way to our deadly destination.
Weeks became months and grew colder. Now the snow is falling and I find myself on the same stretch of road. But this time I’ve decided to find the cemetery myself. Perhaps it was a foolish task. The roads here can go on forever into the countryside and who knows how far from any town this graveyard could be? But at least I’d had the sense to draw a map after the last encounter. So I trekked off in my car, those soothing songs playing the background music to my own magical mystery tour.
Though she hadn’t appeared this time, I feel I’ve been under her spell all the time. It’s only now that I look at my petrol gauge and realise that it’s empty. I had to stop anyway, the snow is falling so thick now that I can’t even see in front of me. I tried to get out and look around, but it was so cold and there were no lights anywhere nearby, I don’t think I’d make it too far over these hills.
After a mild panic attack, I realised that all I could do was sit here in the car. My heater failed me over half an hour ago and all I have left to do is write this, my warning to anyone who might find this. I don’t give it long now before I freeze. I can only just feel my fingers to write this down. I would have more hope, but through the driving snow the cold light of the moon illuminates several headstones to my left.
Ghosties, moonlight and gravestones. Bliss :D
Ah, a little like an urban legend idea. I thought this was quite well written, with the sentence structure nicely done. I did think that perhaps not only was this guy accepting death a little easily, but also he seems remarkably calm about it. The only other thing that wrangled was that, despite having been to this spot several times, he has no idea how to leave it once stranded there. The story (perhaps incorrectly) implies in the numerous visits that the detour taken to get to this place is not particularly lengthy.
But it looks like you enjoyed writing it.
But it looks like you enjoyed writing it.
Well spotted. Proof reading - I should do it!
Recurring phantoms always give me the chills. Good one. Enjoyed it. Having said that, I'm not he would have excepted his fate so easily, but ... who knows. And shouldn't "illuminated" in the last line be "illuminates"? - as you've switched to present tense.
So this is how I spend the final few minutes of my life. I never really imagined anything quite so bizarre.
But I digress; let me take you back to how I got here. I was travelling down the A38 on another late night car journey. The nights weren’t so bad, no traffic on the road and soothing tunes on the radio, none of that pop music stuff. To tell you the truth, I quite enjoyed it. It was like a whole separate life, away from the girlfriend and the workplace, somewhere in-between.
This was another quiet night, hardly another car in sight, even on the opposite lane. The carriageway wasn’t lit that well, I remember thinking that the council should provide some lighting. That’s when she appeared.
I’d heard of phantom hitch-hikers before, of course. Who hasn’t? People on the side of the road that you pick up and then they vanish half way to your destination. I’d also heard it was something to do with Micro-sleep. So when she appeared in my car, I took it in my stride.
‘She’ was a girl of about 22, fair har and a white skin tone that reminded you of English winters. The typical English rose in winter, I presume. I guess the other important fact was that she wasn’t dressed. I could quite clearly see that from the glistening pale skin where even the smallest amount of clothes should have been. She was pretty, too. So I immediately thought that it must be a dream. You would, wouldn’t you?
Anyway, she turned to me and smiled. We didn’t share a single word. She pointed at the road up ahead and we carried on driving. Then, quite suddenly, she disappeared. I looked to see where I was and noticed a graveyard on my right. Without thinking, I must have turned down some lane off of the main road. Although I didn't know the route and didn't even remember any landmarks. it didn’t take me long to find myself back in the main road and before I could mull the incident over too much I was home.
A week later I found myself driving down the same stretch of road. My thoughts had only just begun to wonder to that week previous when I noticed that she was sat there yet again. Again, I put it down to those micro dreams, and again she pointed to the road in front. But this time I tried to keep an eye on where I was going. Before long I found myself turning off the main road, with no control over my actions. Yet again I saw the cemetery and the girl vanished. For the life of me, I couldn't remember how I'd got there. Perhaps there was more to this than simply dreaming?
The next week I expected her and she arrived. The same girl at the same place. This power over me was feeling stronger now and I felt that there was no way I could control the outcome of this journey. Sure enough, we ended up at the cemetery, all but stopping as we passed. But this time I noticed a certain grave. Illuminated by the moonlight I could clearly see a name. My name. So perhaps this was an omen? Or a warning? What must I avoid?
I spent the next few days trawling through books trying to find something similar. My heart sank as the only thing I could find were stories of sirens, not of the Odysseus kind, but of spirits of young women preparing people for their inevitable deaths. An old equivalent of angels, perhaps.
Was I to die in that spot? I could quite easily avoid it in normal circumstances. So how would I end up there. Every night I would look for that girl, so I could ask her the question, but she didn’t come. Until one night. I’d all but given up, thinking myself a fool for taking in such fantasies. Then she appeared. I was startled, though I should have been ready. But I still asked.
“Is this the where I’m supposed to die?” I asked.
All she did was smile and point and guide the way to our deadly destination.
Weeks became months and grew colder. Now the snow is falling and I find myself on the same stretch of road. But this time I’ve decided to find the cemetery myself. Perhaps it was a foolish task. The roads here can go on forever into the countryside and who knows how far from any town this graveyard could be? But at least I’d had the sense to draw a map after the last encounter. So I trekked off in my car, those soothing songs playing the background music to my own magical mystery tour.
Though she hadn’t appeared this time, I feel I’ve been under her spell all the time. It’s only now that I look at my petrol gauge and realise that it’s empty. I had to stop anyway, the snow is falling so thick now that I can’t even see in front of me. I tried to get out and look around, but it was so cold and there were no lights anywhere nearby, I don’t think I’d make it too far over these hills.
After a mild panic attack, I realised that all I could do was sit here in the car. My heater failed me over half an hour ago and all I have left to do is write this, my warning to anyone who might find this. I don’t give it long now before I freeze. I can only just feel my fingers to write this down. I would have more hope, but through the driving snow the cold light of the moon illuminates several headstones to my left.
But I digress; let me take you back to how I got here. I was travelling down the A38 on another late night car journey. The nights weren’t so bad, no traffic on the road and soothing tunes on the radio, none of that pop music stuff. To tell you the truth, I quite enjoyed it. It was like a whole separate life, away from the girlfriend and the workplace, somewhere in-between.
This was another quiet night, hardly another car in sight, even on the opposite lane. The carriageway wasn’t lit that well, I remember thinking that the council should provide some lighting. That’s when she appeared.
I’d heard of phantom hitch-hikers before, of course. Who hasn’t? People on the side of the road that you pick up and then they vanish half way to your destination. I’d also heard it was something to do with Micro-sleep. So when she appeared in my car, I took it in my stride.
‘She’ was a girl of about 22, fair har and a white skin tone that reminded you of English winters. The typical English rose in winter, I presume. I guess the other important fact was that she wasn’t dressed. I could quite clearly see that from the glistening pale skin where even the smallest amount of clothes should have been. She was pretty, too. So I immediately thought that it must be a dream. You would, wouldn’t you?
Anyway, she turned to me and smiled. We didn’t share a single word. She pointed at the road up ahead and we carried on driving. Then, quite suddenly, she disappeared. I looked to see where I was and noticed a graveyard on my right. Without thinking, I must have turned down some lane off of the main road. Although I didn't know the route and didn't even remember any landmarks. it didn’t take me long to find myself back in the main road and before I could mull the incident over too much I was home.
A week later I found myself driving down the same stretch of road. My thoughts had only just begun to wonder to that week previous when I noticed that she was sat there yet again. Again, I put it down to those micro dreams, and again she pointed to the road in front. But this time I tried to keep an eye on where I was going. Before long I found myself turning off the main road, with no control over my actions. Yet again I saw the cemetery and the girl vanished. For the life of me, I couldn't remember how I'd got there. Perhaps there was more to this than simply dreaming?
The next week I expected her and she arrived. The same girl at the same place. This power over me was feeling stronger now and I felt that there was no way I could control the outcome of this journey. Sure enough, we ended up at the cemetery, all but stopping as we passed. But this time I noticed a certain grave. Illuminated by the moonlight I could clearly see a name. My name. So perhaps this was an omen? Or a warning? What must I avoid?
I spent the next few days trawling through books trying to find something similar. My heart sank as the only thing I could find were stories of sirens, not of the Odysseus kind, but of spirits of young women preparing people for their inevitable deaths. An old equivalent of angels, perhaps.
Was I to die in that spot? I could quite easily avoid it in normal circumstances. So how would I end up there. Every night I would look for that girl, so I could ask her the question, but she didn’t come. Until one night. I’d all but given up, thinking myself a fool for taking in such fantasies. Then she appeared. I was startled, though I should have been ready. But I still asked.
“Is this the where I’m supposed to die?” I asked.
All she did was smile and point and guide the way to our deadly destination.
Weeks became months and grew colder. Now the snow is falling and I find myself on the same stretch of road. But this time I’ve decided to find the cemetery myself. Perhaps it was a foolish task. The roads here can go on forever into the countryside and who knows how far from any town this graveyard could be? But at least I’d had the sense to draw a map after the last encounter. So I trekked off in my car, those soothing songs playing the background music to my own magical mystery tour.
Though she hadn’t appeared this time, I feel I’ve been under her spell all the time. It’s only now that I look at my petrol gauge and realise that it’s empty. I had to stop anyway, the snow is falling so thick now that I can’t even see in front of me. I tried to get out and look around, but it was so cold and there were no lights anywhere nearby, I don’t think I’d make it too far over these hills.
After a mild panic attack, I realised that all I could do was sit here in the car. My heater failed me over half an hour ago and all I have left to do is write this, my warning to anyone who might find this. I don’t give it long now before I freeze. I can only just feel my fingers to write this down. I would have more hope, but through the driving snow the cold light of the moon illuminates several headstones to my left.