I used to work at a big concert venue, which was pretty close to where I lived. We usually finished around midnight, but one night Taylor Swift performed, so a lot of people stayed afterwards and it was a hassle to get them all out by 2am.
As soon as I stepped outside I realized how foggy it was. I could barely see to the end of the block. My shadow danced along the sidewalk as I walked in and out of the glimmer of streetlights. There was nothing but the sound of my own footsteps to break the silence.
I had walked this route many times, but it was a skeleton of the vibrant place I knew during the day. For some reason, I had a creeping sense that I wasn’t supposed to be here. What would anyone be doing wandering around the outskirts of Montevideo this late at night? Only someone as crazy as me would be here.
As I crossed onto the block where my house was, a car emerged from the fog. It was plain black without a license plate, and didn’t belong to any model that I know of. The silhouette of the driver was unnaturally dark. The car barely made a sound as it inched along like a slug on wet sand. Just a bit more and I would be adjacent to the driver.
I felt a chill go down my spine as it passed me. From this angle the driver looked like a cartoon, facing entirely the wrong direction, as if the view followed my eyes. They were still looking to the left, even though that would mean they were facing the back of their seat. With almost no warning, it turned into the driveway right behind me.
Now I had spoken to the elderly couple that lived there a few times, though their names escaped me, and were not the type to have guests in the middle of the night. They had complained about kids playing football on the street because it was too loud, the last time I got drawn into a conversation just for walking by while the husband was mowing the lawn.
A few seconds later I realized I had stopped walking, and was staring straight at all of this unfolding. Jolting myself out of it, I attempted to walk again, but then I heard the car door close. Nobody emerged from inside, yet the silhouette was gone. I was alone on the street again in absolute silence.
Not 30 seconds later I heard another sound, prompting me to stop in my tracks once again. My neighbors’ front door opened, then closed, but there was nobody there. I heard a piercing scream from inside and reflexively covered my ears. Surely somebody heard it. At that volume, they had to… yet there was no stumbling around in the house next door, no lights going on down the street. The silence was undisturbed. Nobody had heard.
When the front door opened once more, I made the biggest mistake of my life. Running towards where I thought someone should be, I said aloud “What did you do to her?”
At first I thought there was nobody there. I received no reply. Yet when the car door opened and closed again, the silhouette was there. The car began pulling out of the driveway and I watched in disbelief as it started off down the road, soon engulfed by the mist like a hungry child.
The fog lifted almost immediately. It had barely been 10 seconds before I could see all the way down the street, the lights of the city center visible in the distance. There were no headlights as far as I could see. The street was deserted.
***
The next day continued as normal. My girlfriend and I lounged around with the dogs all morning, and there was no mention of what I had seen. I figured even if it was true, she wouldn’t believe me anyway. After all, I wouldn’t have believed it if she told me the same story a day earlier.
By the time we went out to the store, came home, ate dinner, and watched a movie, I had forgotten about the night before. I fell asleep on the couch feeling safe and content.
My sleep was disturbed in the early hours of the morning, just after 3am. I glanced out the window and felt a sinking feeling in my stomach. A black car was pulling into our driveway. I spotted the same silhouette. I let out a scream and my girlfriend yawned and flicked on a lamp.
“What’s the matter?” she mumbled. “It’s the middle of the night.”
“There’s somebody out front,” I told her.
We both stared out the window, mesmerized as the car door opened.
“Call the police!” my girlfriend yelled. “They’re coming inside!”
“Huh?” I said in confusion. “How do you know?”
“What do you mean? They’re right there! Oh my God, did you lock the door?”
I strained my neck to get a good look at the front lawn, but there was nobody there. Looking back at my girlfriend, it was clear that whatever she could see was scaring the living daylights out of her.
“I can’t see anything,” I said. “What does it look like?”
“What? No! You can’t see anything? For real?”
Our banter was cut short by a creaking noise. The front door was opening. I could’ve sworn I had locked it. In the night light I could just barely make out the outline of a person, just a shadow that could’ve belonged to anyone… and yet, I knew what it was.
I’ll never forget the moment my girlfriend screamed, my ears ringing so loud it drowned out all other sounds. No sooner had it happened did the door close once more, and I saw the car pull out of the driveway, and take off down the street. My girlfriend lay motionless on the couch, her eyes wide open, an expression of terror on her face. I called the police, but it was far too late. None of them would’ve believed me, so I just told them I woke up to find her that way.
Everyone in the neighborhood knew by the time they got up for work. Two people were found on the same street, all their vital signs normal and no sign of a heart attack or stroke, no injuries to be found… and yet they were dead. Law enforcement was baffled. They checked for every poison and rare condition in the books, but there was nothing there.
Sometimes I wonder if it was my fault. Did that thing kill my girlfriend because I was a witness? Why didn’t it kill me? I find it best to not think about it most of the time, but now and then I can’t stop myself from wondering if it’s truly over. These days I don’t go out at night, and I quit my job at the concert venue. It’s just too risky. I keep my nose out of places it doesn’t belong, hoping that I will never see that black car again. So far, I haven’t.