The Montross Avenue Bridge.

We were three young ladies, P, K and I, walking in the dark on a Saturday night.  To be more accurate, it was Sunday morning already.  We had made walks such as this countless times before.  Teenagers tend to feel immortal, but not us.  We were goth before kids were called goth.  We knew evil was out there.  There was darkness around us that we could feel, even if we couldn’t explain it.  In spite of all of this, we were not afraid.

In the wee hours of the morning, we made our way, discussing all of the things we were interested in that could set a mind wandering in some unlikely places.  We weren’t exactly looking for trouble, but none of us would have been disappointed in an event that furthered our beliefs about life beyond ours, parallel worlds and strange happenings.  It is that frame of mind, after all, that we felt strongly was necessary to allow us see these odd occurrences.  We were open to the experiences.  We welcomed them.

We rounded the corner to a bridge that connected the town we were in to the town we were headed to. Abandoned railroad tracks were below and a veritable forest grew from either side of them.  The trees grew so high, in fact, that they went up and over the edges of the overpass.  There was a sidewalk on only one side and guardrails protecting a pedestrian from both falling down on to the tracks but also from the road itself.  The lack of maintenance and landscaping, however, meant the protections were for naught and a pedestrian was forced to walk in the street.  To make matters worse, there were no street lights over the bridge, only some on each street at either end.  Once in the middle, there was only the moonlight to guide you.

We walked past a car parked on the opposite side of the street facing the same direction we were headed.  It was parked directly on the corner, illegally, a man sitting in the driver’s seat.  We wondered why this person was sitting there, motionless in the shadows of night, with the car not running and no lights on.  We decided that three young ladies such as ourselves, out at such an hour, should make it a point to keep walking.

We plodded up the hill that lead to the foot of bridge.  In our hurry, we had stopped chatting to focus on getting to a residential area on the other side.  Our footsteps echoed.  The wind rustled the trees ahead.  Otherwise, the night was still.

I glanced over my shoulder and my friends did the same.  In that instant, and impossibly so, the car’s high beams flashed on and the engine started at the same time.  The car began to pull up the hill, slowly at first.  The headlights flooded the darkness to reveal just how overgrown the foliage was in front of us.  There was no way we could make passage on the sidewalk.

We looked back again and the car was no longer simply driving across the bridge.  Rather, the driver had the car pointed straight towards us, just as we were forced into the road without the implied safety of the guardrail.  We ran like our lives depended on it.  As far as we were concerned, they did.

The car approached at an unsettling rate.  When we reached the area where we could get to the sidewalk, we were pushing and pulling each other off the road.  It was as though we had become one mass, one force striving to keep each other from harm.  Huddled and shaking, we turned toward the vehicle.  All at once, the driver straightened out and began to drive normally as though nothing ever happened.

We were out of danger, but not before we got a good look at the figure driving.  He was shadowy, almost gray.  His extremely curly hair was cut short.  His smile revealed brilliant white teeth, sharply contrasted against the darkness around him.  His eyes, though, his eyes were not eyes at all.  Deep in the cavity of his skull glowed a burning red light.

To this day, we all stick to our story.  We know what we saw.  Though no one believes us, chalking the sighting up to a misunderstanding or overactive imaginations, we remain certain that some sort of evil spirit, for reasons unbeknownst to us, tried to murder us on the Montross Avenue Bridge.
I’m linking up with Yeah Write with a spooky story of the unexplained.  Please click through to read the work of some other very talented writers.

34 Responses to “The Montross Avenue Bridge.”

  1. Gina says:

    I tend to hold my breath when I’m nervous or scared. I was holding it for a bit at the end of this. Glad it’s light while I’m reading it. Thanks for the willies, Michelle! Great imagery and chillingly written. Girls…be careful!!!

  2. Eeeeeeiii!! Chills!
    I loved your use of first person plural (à la Eugenides and Virgin Suicides!) So effective and so creepy!!! Glad you guys are all safe-really enjoyed this post!

    • These friends of mine, they are the kind of people you just feel like one with. Even though I haven’t seen either of them in over a decade and we don’t talk all that often, we will always be a we.

  3. Ahhhhhhhh, glad I wasn’t there!

  4. IASoupMama says:

    Yikes! What kind of creep tries to tun kids off the road? Scary…

  5. Whoa, sister, I was holding my breath too. Scary business, Missy.

  6. Kianwi says:

    Creepy and scary and you had me running with you! Wonderful job at building the suspense!

  7. Certainly evil lurks in likely and unlikely places. Memories are ours to keep. In some ways they direct us. I felt first your sense of adventure, and then I felt your fear. Nicely done, as always.

  8. Nice and scary. Reminds me of Christine by Steven King. Chills.

  9. Kathleen says:

    What a terrifying experience! You had me on the edge of my seat.

  10. Great writing, Michelle! I was holding my breath!

  11. Sam Peckinpah story… slow start with a build-up to the wild end. I too have witnessed the red eyes .. it was electrical red beaming out towards me… it was a strange thing..

  12. jesterqueen says:

    Very well done. The section in the middle where you were running absolutely gripped my attention.

  13. Oh my gosh!!! This gave me chills. I seriously could not stop reading, and the details were so vivid that I could picture every bit of it. Great job!

  14. Wow, amazing job. sometimes the inexplicable is the scariest of all…

  15. Angela Ryan says:

    Great intensity. You are truly a gifted writer. I’m glad you’re on yeah write, and that I made my way over here.

  16. Chills, definitely chills. So very intense and well written. And incredibly freaky. Great job!

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