Like all unusual ghost stories out there, this true ghost story silently speaks of a weird veracity too. Reeking of the surreal, this scary story has something that is capable of filling your head with bazillion doubts and will have you guessing.
The weird thing about horror is that no matter how much you are afraid, you are always on the hunt for more. It is like how my brother used to play with sockets when he was a dotish kid. He would put his finger inside the hole, only to experience that ephemeral shock, and then redo it to feel it again. That short-lived thrill was what made him had a blast playing with something so deadly. Horror is no different. You want it to scare you shitless, and then you want to scour for more just to relive that internal shock again.
Why are we always scavenging for true ghost stories? If there isn’t that element of accuracy to the tale, then it is as good as fiction. Then again, there is nothing wrong with fiction. But the fictitious gives you a feeling of safety, a feeling that the evil can’t touch you. So you feel safe on your planar seats. A true ghost story will compel you to walk amongst the dead. You will be forced to live amid the thrill and let them walk beside you. That’s when the horror becomes killing.
THE TRUE GHOST STORY
It is not an uncommon sight during wee hours; when there is a lot of distance to cover, roads suddenly somehow become drier and darker. The night seemed unusually dark that day as well when a guy was on his way home trying to escape his long wretched day. Unknowingly, he had stayed late in the office. The work load was punishing. It was only when he got a fourth call from his wife that his work-trance was finally broken. Excusing himself instantly, he decided to call the night a day. He hurried towards his bike, started it and headed straight for home.
As the world snored, the dim lights of his bike broke the stillness of the dark. The engine of his dilapidated motorcycle roared disturbing the eternally disturbed, he knew nothing of. The road he was on seemed to be awfully quiet that night. He was the only soul trundling down that emptiness. Pitch-black painted everything that skimmed the road making it hard to see anything that ran on either sides of the road. He didn’t have to. As long as the road kept growing itself towards its destination, nothing really mattered.
His mind housed thousands of doubts about what he was going to do the next day. It was generally the workload that pestered him beyond limit. That and his nagging wife. Juggling them both was becoming sort of a Herculean task for him. He was busy thinking about a probable workaround when suddenly out of the blue he saw a roadblock ahead.
ROCKS ON THE ROAD
He slowed down his bike at once to see what had stopped him. Bringing the motorcycle to a standstill, leaning forward, he noticed there were rocks that covered the road. They were lined up in a horizontal fashion so it was hard for his wheels to make past. He had to get down. Fearing what it could be all about, he kept the engine running, and disembarked. He headed straight for the rocks, and started lifting them, hurling them one by one until there was enough space for his wheels to easily make it unimpeded.
He then returned towards his bike. But the moment he touched the handle, the rear end lifted mid-air and began spinning. He was already on the bike somehow but instead of going straight the bike swiveled on its front tire. It rotated twice or thrice before coming to a sudden stop. Mighty scared when he felt the controls in his hand again, he went for the throttle and the bike lunged as if coming out of a trance itself. He crossed the rocks and didn’t stop until he reached home.
When he knocked at the door, his wife opened. She let out a shriek of horror when she saw him. He was covered in blood. He hadn’t noticed it, so he went straight for the mirror and found himself dripping all over, painted in red. There were no major injuries thankfully. He narrated the whole account to her, as his wife listened in stark amazement.
REFLECTING ON THE SCARY STORY
The weird thing about this scary story is all the claiming. The person asserts to have experienced it all, his own true ghost story, that you cannot reason with.
Let us leave it like that the true ghost story it is. Any comments on this are welcome. Let’s see what theories we garner in the process.