As an experienced trucker, I’ve had my fair share of interesting drives. But there was this one unforgettable day when I found myself in the swamps of Louisiana while heading from Kansas City to New Orleans, and little did I know that I would come across the infamous Nightfolk.
It was a typical warm and humid day as I set out from Kansas City on the old highways that cut through the Bayou Nwa area en route to New Orleans. I’d heard some spooky stories about voodoo and mysteries surrounding these swamps, but I didn’t let that bother me. I was focused on delivering my shipment of goods.
As I drove deeper into the swamp, I noticed an eerie silence settling in. The usual sounds of nature were absent, and it gave me an odd feeling. Then, up ahead, my headlights revealed a weird sight – a makeshift roadblock made of branches, old tires, and junk.
I slowed down, thinking it might be some kids playing around or an abandoned vehicle. But as I got closer, something felt off. Emerging from the shadows were figures dressed in ragged clothes, their faces covered in dirt. It made me a bit uneasy, but I brushed it off, assuming they were just some locals.
The group, later known as the Nightfolk, surrounded my truck. Their appearance was a bit spooky, but I thought they might be locals living a rustic life.
All of a sudden, one of them came forward with a rusty machete. Panic surged through me as I tried to call for help on the radio, but there was no signal in that remote area.
I desperately tried to reverse my truck, but it got stuck in the muddy terrain. The Nightfolk closed in, and I knew I had to act fast. With only a tire iron from my toolkit as a weapon, I stood my ground, feeling ill-equipped against their primitive tools.
But just when it seemed like things couldn’t get worse, a glimmer of hope appeared on the horizon. Another truck was coming our way. Without a moment’s delay, I ran towards the approaching light, shouting for help with all my might.
Thankfully, the other trucker noticed me and stopped just in time. Together, we honked our horns and flashed our headlights, scaring off the Nightfolk. It was a huge relief to have someone by my side, and we decided to stick together until we reached a safer area.
As we drove, the other trucker who turned out to be from the area shared stories about the Nightfolk and their scary reputation. It sent shivers down my spine to think about the danger we had narrowly escaped.
Since that day, I’ve vowed to avoid the Louisiana swamps after sunset if i was on a route thorugh that area. The Nightfolk might be just legends to some, but my encounter with them was a harsh reminder that there are real dangers out there in the world of trucking. So, whenever I hit the road, I stay alert and share my story as a cautionary tale for others, especially those planning to drive through the tricky Bayou area on the route from Kansas City to New Orleans.