The Gravel Road

The year is 2003 and it must be between May and September because there is no snow on the ground. I've just gotten ready for a night out and as usual I am the designated driver, as all my friends live out of town.

I am on my way to pick up a friend who lives about 15 minutes out of my tiny town of Lake Lenore. We are on our way to the even smaller village of Pilger, or maybe Middle Lake? I really don't remember exactly what we are going to do. I get in my parents 1989 Pontiac 6000 LE and head out. The air is clear and it's a little bit chilly. It's already dark, and a good song is on the radio, I am smiling to myself, it's going to be a great night.

As I travel down the freshly grated road, I come to an intersection where I can continue straight, or take the curve. I head straight and start to go down the Verndale Road. This road is full of high hills and beautiful scenery and in the daytime it's a pleasant drive. I'm concentrating on not catching the tires on gravel on the side, my mother has warned me numerous times about the dangerous consequences.

My friend is not too far down the road, maybe a couple clicks (kms). Since she lives in a different house now, I am driving slower so I don't miss the turn on this particularly dark night. The moment I get on this road my radio cuts out to fuzz, which is not unusual, this car is famous for that. I hit the dash hard, but to no avail. As I am a few feet from her long driveway which winds, is surrounded by trees, and the house is not visible from where I am, I see a ghost.

Time seems to stop and the radio is no longer fuzz, it is silent. My heart starts to beat rapidly. The ghost is a girl of about 14 or so, and is standing on the very edge of the right side of the road. There is a huge slough on that side. She is staring directly at me, her eyes are blue, her light blond hair is dripping wet. She is more transparent than solid. Her nightgown is old fashioned, from the 1970's or so and hangs softly on her slender frame in contrast to her wet hair. Her feet are bare and seem to hover just above the ground. Her stare is pleading but not unkind. I am frozen with fear and curiosity as she continues to look at me. I feel as though I am not really driving, I don't want to look away. In reality probably only 30 seconds have passed, but it feels a lot longer than that. I have to look away and when I look back she is gone. 

I turn onto my friend's driveway and speed up to the house. My heart is pounding, and I quickly relay the story. They do not seem too surprised, apparently there are all kinds of stories about that road as it is, although it is a little unsettling. We continued on our way with no further incidences, and when the time comes to drop her off I'm a little leery, nothing happens though.

The year is 2006, a friend and I are driving to Pilger, and we come to an intersection, you can go straight or take the curve. I have not been down that road since that night in '03. He's feeling adventurous, and I am glad I am driving because I declare that no, we are not exploring that road. He harasses me about it, after all it's broad daylight, and he is genuinely interested in this lovely road that he's never been down. We have time, and for a split second I consider it. I refuse and without looking too far down it, I take the curve, nervously thinking of that pretty girl who is still pleading for help by a slough on the side of a gravel road.