This happened to me a few years ago.
One night, after hanging out at a good friends house, I decided that I didn’t want to make the drive home just yet, so I went for a little drive instead. My friend lives in neighborhood with lots of winding roads and hills, so I got the idea to drive up the hills and try to find the highest point. So up I went, and I kept climbing, choosing the roads that would lead me higher. Eventually I came to a point where the darkness of the surrounding trees smothered the streetlights, and the moon disappeared behind a smear of grey clouds. There, in the quiet dark of past-midnight, I turned on my light and began to read a book.
I sat there in silence for about half an hour, then I heard something that made my blood freeze. A drunken man’s cackle came from outside my car and echoed into the dead silence. It was a madman’s laughter, unhinged and inhuman. The sound a pyromaniac would make before they set their house ablaze. I will never forget that sound, the way it bounced off the trees and echoed into the night. I can still hear it in my head today, I remember how close it sounded. It came from right outside my car, the back left passenger window. I turned my head to look outside but of course, I couldn’t see anything. There was only darkness. Then, several things happened in quick succession.
The temperature gauge on my car dropped 4 degrees, all the hair on the back of my neck and arms stood up, and my heart started to pound in my chest. I was sure, without a shadow of a doubt, that something was watching me. If you’ve never felt this before, it is unmistakeable. Something in our primal brain is wired to sense when a predator has you in its sights. I felt it right then and there. Something dangerous beyond my understanding was looking at me for its next meal, and it was ravenous. I remember how cold it felt, how the fear of it made me nauseous, how the malevolent energy it emanated seemed to pulse in waves. I knew where it was too, I could sense it somehow. It was in the backseat of my car, behind me, boring its eyes into back of my head. Whatever this thing was, I knew it wanted to rip my guts out, and I knew it would enjoy doing so. I felt its eyes looking me up and down, a cold stare of death that paralyzed me with fear, unable to move, and too scared to think. I was too scared to reach up and turn off the light, too scared to grab the gearshift and put my car in drive. Any moment now it could happen, this thing could decide to pounce on me and life as I know it would be over.
Slowly, very slowly, I reached over and released the parking brake. Thankfully I had the car parked facing downhill, so all I had to do was turn the wheel enough not to crash, and I could at least put some distance between me and this thing. I didn’t even know if it would work, but I had to try something. I didn’t even turn on the engine, I just let it roll down the hill, further and further until the coldness started to dissipate. I knew I was getting away because the feeling of imminent doom began to dwindle about a half mile down the road. My heart slowed and breathing returned to normal pace. I didn’t bother going back to investigate.
When I tell my story to people who live in the area, they often mention that the houses further up the hill are older, and plots are built on burial grounds. The younger crowd often mentions one particular hill, where they hear voices and laughter from people who aren’t there, and a feeling like something bad is going to happen. The truth is that our perception of the world is limited by our senses, and my senses told me enough about that night. They told me to stay far, far away.