I don’t like talking about this much. It still gives me the creeps. But I have to tell someone. Maybe then, I can get some sleep.
I drive maybe three to four hours a day for work. I know it’s a lot but I loved my job, and I didn’t mind the commute until…
Anyway, like many of you, I listen to the radio to keep me sane during the commute. Mostly top 40’s or the local rock stations. Anything with a little kick to keep me awake and focused on the drive. About four months into this job I noticed the radio would go dead silent as I passed through one town. It was this little nowhere town I had to cut through, because taking the highway would have added another hour onto my already exhausting commute. I didn’t think much of it at first, maybe it’s just hard to get a radio signal way out in this little rural place.
A month went by, and the same radio silence hit every time I passed through that town. I only paid attention because the radio cut out suddenly, just past the welcome sign. I’d be driving, singing along to some song and then silence, like the radio itself stopped working.
The silence allowed me to look around more as I drove through the town. Not many people were outside, which I thought was odd, but then again I assumed this was a tight-knit community, and they probably didn’t like seeing a stranger roll through their town at weird hours. In fact, I drove through that town for six straight months before ever seeing a living soul.
Then one night, as I was making my way back from work. I turned into the town past the welcome sign, and up the main road. This time felt different. There was a stillness like I had never felt before. The silence was deafening. There were no birds or crickets. No dogs barking. Nothing.
I passed by some kids playing on the sidewalk. They were dressed like any regular school kids would be. They had chalk and one of them seemed to be drawing out a hop-scotch game. I hadn’t seen any of the townsfolk up-close before, so as I drove by, I rolled down my window to say hello…
They looked up, or at least their heads turned to look at me. As I gazed over their faces, my blood ran cold. They didn’t have eyes. Only empty, bleeding sockets where their eyes should have been.
I didn’t even feel my foot press the gas. I turned around and sped out of that town as fast as my car would allow. I don’t remember stopping at any red lights as I raced for the safety of my home.
When I got home, I called my boss and told him I could no longer make the commute. He seemed saddened, but he understood and told me to take care.
I haven’t slept in three days. Every time I close my eyes I see them. Those kids… and their bleeding stares.