As we are now into the season of ghosts, ghouls and other supernatural matters, I am posting the occasionally spooky story.
She was late. She should have been home an hour ago. He’d be checking his phone; getting angry, worried. Would he worry? She wasn’t sure.
If only she could let him know, she was almost there. But she couldn’t stop. Not here, not in this patch of woodland.
The headlights bored through the darkness, picking out the slender spire of Chetwynd Church above the trees. One more corner and she’d be on the main road and she could use her mobile.
Don’t look back. Keep your eyes on the road. Gripping the wheel she stared rigidly in front of her. Oncoming lights dazzled. Instinctively she glanced at her mirror.
And saw a face that wasn’t hers. Dark haunted eyes. A woman in a white dress.
It’s only a story. It isn’t true. A trick of the light. Foot on the brake, junction coming up, she risked another look.
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