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January 10, 2011
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Driving down the dark, secluded road was Brian Donahugh. Just leaving work, he was all alone in his old blue Jeep Rangler. It was thunder storming outside; he was careful not to slide around on the cold, wet ground. He picked up his cell phone to call his girlfriend to tell her he’d be home soon, but instead, he found that there was no service. “Damn storm,” he muttered to himself, “Must’ve hit a power cord.” He put the phone back and kept driving. There was nothing out here; there weren’t any houses, no hotels, and the next gas station wasn’t for another 30 miles. As he was slowly speeding up, he noticed a strange, dark figure walking the opposite way. His beams hit the grotesque figure. It was a man; he looked about 45, aged a bit by the gray hair covering his head. He had cuts all over him, but Brian took notice of the deep gash across his forehead. He was wet from the storm and his soaking t-shirt was bloody from the cuts. The man was limping and struggling to keep walking, but Brian kept going. “There’s no point in stopping, there’s no way I can help him,” he thought to himself. He kept driving along, with a picture of the man in the back of his head. He felt bad for not stopping, but didn’t care enough to turn around. 10 miles later, he was still driving carefully down the slick road. The rain was finally starting to slow down. He looked to his watch; 2:57 A.M. He noticed a car sitting on the side of the road, so he slowed down a bit. The headlights shined on the car. It was an old, beat up pickup truck, with a broken windshield and the whole top dented in. He pulled over on the side of the road and got out of his car. He could hear the sprinkling of the rain, and an owl hooting in the tree above him. He walked cautiously across the street, being careful to avoid the puddles. He slowly creeped over to the driver’s side. He was shaken with fear. He peeked into the window and saw a man unconscious in the driver’s seat. He immediately thought back to the man he saw walking. “He must have been going for help,” he whispered out loud. He looked at the man; he was all cut up and bloody, with a similar wound across his forehead. After a few seconds, a realization came to him. The man he saw walking the other way was the man in the driver’s seat…and he was dead.





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