On a cool autumn evening, Clara sat in her favorite armchair, the crackling fire casting flickering shadows around the cozy living room. Her grandchildren, Lucy and Sam, curled up on the floor, their eyes wide with anticipation. Clara had always been the storyteller of the family, her voice soothing yet filled with mystery. Tonight, she decided to share a tale that had haunted her since she was their age—a story she had never told anyone, until now.
"Gather around, my loves," Clara began, her voice lowering to a whisper, "I'm going to tell you about a night that changed my life forever, a night I can never forget."
The children leaned in closer, the warmth of the fire doing little to chase away the sudden chill in the room.
"Thirty years ago, I was driving home late from a friend's party. I was young and carefree, just like you two," she said, her eyes distant, as if reliving the memory. "The road I took was called Highway 7. Back then, it was just as it is now—dark, winding, and surrounded by trees that loomed like giants in the night. People warned me about it, of course. They said it was haunted, that strange things happened to those who drove it after dark. But I didn't believe in ghosts. I was brave—or maybe just foolish."
Lucy and Sam exchanged nervous glances, sensing the gravity in Clara's voice as she continued.
"I turned on the radio, letting the music fill the silence as I sped down the road. Everything felt normal until suddenly, the radio crackled and went silent. Just like that." She snapped her fingers, the sound startling the children. "And then, I felt it—a coldness creeping into my car. The kind of cold that seeps into your bones, making you feel like something… someone was watching."
Lucy hugged her knees to her chest, while Sam stared at Clara, eyes wide with curiosity.
"When I looked up," Clara's voice dropped even lower, her tone filled with dread, "I saw him."
"Who did you see, Grandma?" Sam interrupted, unable to contain his excitement.
"A man," Clara replied, her voice trembling slightly as she remembered. "He stood by the side of the road, looking lost and desperate. His clothes were tattered, and his face… his face was pale, too pale, like he hadn't seen the sun in years. I slowed down, rolled down my window, and asked if he needed help. He smiled at me—this strange, crooked smile—and said, 'I need a ride. Please… I can't stay here.'"
The room seemed to grow colder as Clara spoke, the firelight flickering as if in response to the story.
"Did you let him in?" Lucy asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Clara nodded slowly, her expression darkening. "I did. I was too curious to turn him away. He looked so desperate, so… broken. But the moment he got into the car, everything changed. The temperature dropped. It felt like the shadows in the car were closing in on us, swallowing the light. He didn't say anything for the longest time. Just sat there, staring out the window, his breath fogging the glass."
Clara paused, her hands trembling slightly. "I should've known something was wrong. But I didn't. I kept driving."
"What did he say?" Sam asked, leaning forward, enraptured by the story.
"He finally spoke," Clara said, her voice hollow. "He told me that the road was cursed, that those who drove it at night were never the same. They never made it out. I laughed it off at first—thought it was just a ghost story. But then the headlights flickered and went out. The car's engine sputtered, and we were plunged into darkness."
The children gasped, their eyes glued to their grandmother's face as she continued her tale.
"I panicked, trying to restart the car, but it wouldn't budge. And then," Clara's voice grew darker, "the man next to me started to scream. He grabbed my arm, his face twisted in terror, shouting, 'They're coming! You have to run!' I didn't know what he meant, but I felt it. Something was out there, something evil."
The room fell into a tense silence as the fire crackled, filling the space with an ominous glow.
"That's when I heard it," Clara whispered, her eyes wide with fear. "A distant roar, like engines revving, but not just one—many. Tires screeching, metal grinding. I looked up and saw the headlights of a massive truck barreling toward us. It was going so fast… too fast. I tried to get out of the car, but my door wouldn't open. I was trapped. The man screamed louder, and then—there was a crash."
Lucy clutched her brother's arm, her breath shallow. Sam sat frozen, his face pale.
"When I came to," Clara continued, her voice barely audible, "the man was gone. The car was intact, but everything around me had changed. The air was thick, suffocating. The trees seemed darker, twisted. I could hear whispers—hundreds of them, overlapping, growing louder. And then, I saw them."
"Saw who?" Lucy asked, her voice trembling.
"The lost souls," Clara said, her eyes haunted. "They emerged from the woods, their faces twisted in agony, their mouths moving, but no sound came out. They were reaching for me, pulling me toward them. Their eyes were filled with sorrow, with desperation. They wanted me to join them, to be trapped on that cursed highway forever."
The children shuddered, the firelight flickering ominously as Clara leaned forward.
"I managed to start the car," she said, her voice shaky. "I don't know how, but I did. I floored the gas and sped down the road, but the whispers… they followed me. I could still hear them, even after I made it home. For weeks, I had nightmares about that night. I'd wake up to the sound of that man's voice, begging for help. But he wasn't the only one. I heard the others too—those lost souls, trapped on that highway."
Lucy and Sam were silent, the weight of the story pressing down on them like a heavy fog.
"And then," Clara said, her voice barely above a whisper, "I heard the news. Weeks after that night, they found another car on Highway 7. Abandoned. The driver was never found. It happened again, and again. People kept disappearing, their cars left behind, but no trace of them. Just… gone."
The room felt colder now, the fire casting long, sinister shadows on the walls. The children stared at their grandmother, too afraid to speak.
"Now I tell you this story," Clara said softly, "so you never make the same mistake I did. Highway 7 is still out there, waiting for the next unsuspecting driver to wander down its haunted path."
Outside, the wind howled, rattling the windows as if something was lurking just beyond the trees. Clara leaned back in her chair, her heart heavy with the memories of that fateful night. She could still hear the echoes of the whispers, feel the chilling presence of the man, and see the lost souls reaching for her, their faces twisted in eternal agony.
And in the darkness outside, a faint, familiar sound echoed—a distant roar of engines and the whisper of something lurking just beyond the trees, waiting for the next chance to ensnare an unsuspecting heart.
Clara's voice was the only sound left in the room, leaving behind an unsettling silence. "Remember, my loves, never drive down Highway 7 at night. Because once you're there, you might not make it back."
Lucy and Sam huddled closer together, the flickering fire casting monstrous shapes on the walls as the haunting tale settled deep within their bones.