My grandfather once told me a story of an old road that twisted down from his mountain town. It wasn’t an unusual road. It wouldn’t be seen as strange from any out of towners. But for the folks living in the woods, it marked the spot of an unanswered mystery. The secrets still lurk in the overgrown branches that mark mile 47 on Highway 33.
He lived in the middle of the Oakwood Hills for nearly 60 years. The woods were home to some of my favorite memories. I remember the time my grandfather bet me my dessert that I wouldn’t be able to shoot the cans laid out on the branches of his favorite oak tree. I ate two slices of my grandmother’s famous apple pie that night, but grandfather didn’t look upset in the slightest.
Each day spent up there brought on a new adventure. My grandfather would make obstacle courses in the backyard. Each obstacle weaving through the various trees and bushes, over the mossy rocks, and around the blackberry brambles. The consequences were only what nature provided, but we all caught on pretty quick. When we succeeded in one course, grandfather would add a new element. From spotting the poison berries to spotting threats between the leaves in the trees.
Slowly, my cousins stopped coming around. My grandfather told me, “When people grow up, they often forget their childhood fun, but I know you won’t son”. The years continued to roll by. I successfully completed all of my grandfather’s challenges. My biggest injury was a sprained ankle, but grandfather used that as a chance to remind me of some basic survival and first aid skills.
When I was 16 my grandfather sat me down. My grandmother had passed away a few years prior. The house showed her absence through clutter filling her shelves, dinners no longer including sweet tea, and the guest bedroom missing her handwritten notes wishing me a happy visit. I know my grandfather missed her. As he sat me down between her hand embroidered pillows, he told me to listen closely.
“Those obstacle courses weren’t for nothing, son”, he said with a quiver in his throat, “They’re for the ol’ bend. You know, the bend at mile marker 47?”
I didn’t have the heart to tell him I wasn’t sure what he was talking about. The highway is filled with twists and turns, and to be honest most of my drives up or down were spent taking deep breaths as my car sickness churned in my stomach. “I think so pop, what about it?”
He took a deep breath and started, “There’s some secrets that live in there. Cars seem to be pulled there. Cars, trucks, motorcycles. They stop there, for one reason or another. Flat tires, car overheating, kids getting sick in the back seat.” He winced as if a bad memory flooded his mind. “These cars stop there on a random night heading home from visits, but they don’t seem to go away. They’re still there on Monday, Tuesday, weeks roll by and a tow truck eventually shows and clears the spot for the next car that will end up there”
Uneasiness filled my bones. “Wait, what are you trying to say?”
“I’m telling you there’s something in there. Something pulling the cars in and not letting the drivers and passengers leave. I’ve watched it happen. I drove behind a white four door sedan one Sunday afternoon. It had a stick figure family on the rear view window and looked like it was coming home from a weekend camping in the forest. They pulled over, and a man stepped out. Looked like a father grabbing his son for a bathroom break. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but on my way back up that evening it was still sitting there.” He closed his eyes and lowered his head. “I was going to check on them but grandma said she had a bad feeling about it and we should just call the sheriff when we got back to the house.”
The story started sounding vaguely familiar. One of my drives up for a visit I was feeling pretty sick. I told my mom to pull over, because I wasn’t going to make it. She turned back and said, “Not here, honey, pop says it’s bad luck to stop here.” I felt so sick I didn’t have the mind to second guess her. Seconds later, I hurled into a paper bag.
“We called the sheriffs. They told us they’d send someone out there. Before they hung up they gave us a warning. I’ll never forget what the sheriff said to me that night, ‘Don’t go poking around in the history of those woods. If you feel a pull, just keep driving.’ Still brings me shivers to think about., but I didn’t listen to him.” Grandfather’s eyes turned dark.
“The car still sat there Monday morning, so that evening I went back to have a look. There was a car seat in the back, two duffel bags and what looked to be a diaper bag. They had little kids and they were somewhere in that forest. I took one step in and called out for them. It felt like my voice hit a brick wall. No echoes, nothing. The air got colder and the trees looked like they had died years ago. I felt chills all over my back and knew I had to leave then or there was no getting out. I stepped back out. The trees were green again, and I could hear birds above me. I began warming up in the rays of the sunset.”
“Why are you telling me this? What’s going on?” I interrupted.
“I’m going in.” He said stately, but his words were swallowed up by silence.
“Are you crazy? After what you saw, the sheriff’s warning, why now?” I questioned him with urgency.
“I was driving down for a doctor’s appointment Monday morning, and there it was, my friend Allen’s car. I had just spoken with him on Sunday afternoon. He was getting ready to go to the airport to meet his great granddaughter. He was so excited. But he never made it. He got pulled in.” He was struggling to speak. I’d never seen my grandfather so filled with fear and remorse.
“Well, we can go in together. We’ll be stronger that way. Watch each others back, just like you taught us.” He was beginning to scare me.
“I can’t let you do that, son. I have to go in alone. As long as you know where I’m going. I just need you to know where I am. Your mom thinks we’re camping this week, it’s what I told her. You need to be here. You need to keep training. I’ll be back, I promise.”
“But I’m ready now! I’m your best. I’m the fastest, quickest, strongest. Sure my first aid can use some work, but I’m good. I’ll just go with you. I have all my camping gear, I can pack the weapons, we can grab…” He cut me off.
“No, I need you here.” His voice started to sound foggy and distant.
“Pop, I’m not feeling great.” My body started feeling heavy.
“I knew you wouldn’t let me go alone, but this isn’t the right time. You aren’t ready. I’ll be back before you know it. When you wake up you’re probably going to be confused, but it’s okay. I left this note on the table. There’s food in the fridge. I’ll be back soon. I promise…” Then everything went black.
I just woke up. My head is throbbing and my stomach is growling at me. I looked at my phone. How is it already Thursday? My mom hasn’t called me. Then again, grandfather told her we’re camping and she probably thinks I don’t have service. Memories of our conversation on Tuesday slowly start coming back. The bend. Mile marker 47. Disappearances. He went to get Allen.
Wait. He went to get Allen in the bend at mile marker 47, where cars get abandoned and people go missing. He’s been gone for over 48 hours. I have to go get him.
I drive quickly. Thankfully, there aren’t many patrol cars on Highway 33. I get to the bend in a record time of 12 minutes. Normally it takes me about 20 minutes to get this far, but I don’t have the time to waste right now. My gear is in the back. I packed my best weapons: A bowie knife my grandfather gave me when I was 11, a rifle that is still slightly too large for me, but I’m a good aim regardless, some food that should last me at least 72 hours, and a first aid kit. Fingers crossed I won’t have to use it.
I park my car at the end of the bend and stand at the edge of the forest. I take a look around, notice the trees. These oaks are healthy, they’ve likely been here for years. There’s moss growing on the rocks facing me. The birds chirp loudly, almost like a warning I wont abide by.
One deep breath in. Hold. Out.
And I step in.
Right as I step, I turn my head one final time.
I’m going in here to get my grandfather and his friend Allen. So why is my car the only one sitting in the bend?
We know this is something new, but we hope you enjoy the slight change. A little spook and suspense to your morning, or afternoon, or whenver you’re reading this.
And as always, happy spooky reading
This is such a good short story! Left me with chills and wanting more! Please keep up this story!!
This is such a good short story! Left me with chills and wanting more! Please keep up this story!!