FicWad

Ghost story.

My mother was never one to be easily deterred or frightened. I guess that is why I took her coming through the door in a panic seriously. It was a winter night, freezing cold and I worked on a very early morning shift so would sleep in the afternoon and then stay up at night to watch my younger brother, feed our horses and prepare for mum coming home around 9-10pm.

My brother was 15 and mum liked me in at nights. The area we lived in was a rural one and she felt that although at that age he was mature it was always better to be safe than sorry and I agree. I was in the kitchen, in my god-awful boxer shorts that had been washed enough times to go grey and yes we men do keep them. Yes they have holes and no we don’t care.

So invariably for those females reading, yes I probably had scratched my balls and the coffee was warm and not really something you’d drink if you hadn’t got distracted playing on your computer with a war simulation game. Oh and I was single, working in a morgue does tend to limit social times. I don’t work there anymore. I moved out of the area and moved to sommit else.

Anyway yeah back to the situation right? My mum came through the door, me in boxers and the dogs that had been asleep jumped up and started wagging their tails and getting excited. Dear Lord, mum took a look at me, I was expecting some form of lecture. She hated that I wandered around like that. It was bad for my brothers friends, I was setting a bad example, yada yada…

“Get your bloody coat and dive in the car…” She says holding the keys. I’m looking at her. The car door is wide open and she’s not even moaning just looking rushed.

“Err can I get dressed?” I hear myself asking though finding it rhetorical as she hastily shoves my long coat at me. My messy hair is hastily tied back and the dogs are shut in the kitchen. I head out behind her. “What’s wrong?”

“There was a girl, she was… she was trying to hitch a ride. She was in her nightclothes, red coat running and I was scared to stop on my own but she looked like she needed something. I figured we could go back, it’s just a couple of miles. We’ll find her easy enough.”

“Sure.” I mutter as I steal one of her cigarettes. I notice now that there is heavy rain. My feet are cold. I light up and watch as we pull off.

Ah now a little geography for you. We live in England and more specifically we lived in Rutland in England. There are a lot of villages and small towns. It’s a county and our nearest city is like 30-40 miles. Not far but pretty darned far if you were say hitching or whatever. Anyway we drove about a mile out, passed some big farm that had sheep. All the lights were off, we headed past that, last local place for I think another two miles. Now we’re in to the area where ploughed fields and trees are your scenery. For the more discerning rural spotter we of course have random animals that run in your path.

Okay so you get the idea, it’s dark, raining and I’m already slightly peeved. Mum is driving, on mission, she’s heading to this road. It’s quite a crappy one and it’s dangerous if you know where you are and break down you know you need a mobile or good walking shoes.

So we drive to where this woman was.

“Okay she looked about twenty-ish and she was,” she lights a cigarette, “running down the road. There isn’t another road off and I am sure in this time unless she has been picked up we would have seen her.” My mum was looking and I’m thinking ‘don’t you make me get out this car’ and she looks to me. “She had a nightie and a red coat. She was running really fast.”

“Mum maybe someone else got her?” She looks to me like I am talking another language, which on this occasion I am not.

“No one really comes down here. No she should be here.” My mother, who I am convinced now may need sectioning, finishes her cigarette. “Damn it.” She pulls to gear and we head back home. I am now cold and have lit another of her cigarettes. The weather has eased so I get dressed and take the dogs out and think nothing more of it.

The next day I finish work and head over to home. Mum tells me that she told someone in the shop about it. The person in the shop described the woman perfectly which led to my mother asking how of course.

“So?” I try to sound interested.

“The girl was called {I forget the name} and her boyfriend was killed three or four years ago at the cross roads when a Range Rover hit him. She was waiting for him to arrive and he never did but she heard the noise. She went running to find him in her nightie and when she got there the Range Rover was speeding towards her. She never had the time to move out of the way. She was killed twenty foot away from him.” I looked at my mum and she looks back. To this day she drives another way home.