green hell ghost

True Stories | Jul 25, 2014 | 4 min read
4 Votes, average: 4 out of 5
The Olympic Penninsula of Washington state is one of the most dismal rain-forests on the planet. Ever inch of this soggy wood is saturated with water. Everything is green here. Not the bright,cheerful green of Irish pastures but more sinister shades like a botanical rust that smothered everything.Everything. Even the air you breathe.
One lonely two lane road cuts through this nightmare environment. Highway 112 isn't much as far as highways go. It's barely wide enough to allow two cars to slide past each other. There is no shoulder to this road. If there had been,the rain-forest has reclaimed it. Driving Hwy 112 gives the driver the feeling that he is moving through a long dark green tunnel.

The big maroon station wagon hissed down the rain soaked blacktop. Sheets of water billowed out either side of the speeding car leaving a rooster-tail of steam behind.
Two bright yellow headlights pierced through the green gloom ahead,behind and on either side. Daylight was struggling to arrive. The woods went from black to a slightly lighter shade of green. The wipers are working less hard now. The rain is letting up.

The man behind the wheel is Steve Smith. His son, Mark is riding shotgun. Daughter Susan is asleep laying full length across the back seat. The Smiths and their Oldsmobile Vista Cruiser are homeward bound after two exhausting days of salmon fishing off Neah Bay at the end of North America.

Steve would feel better if another car approached but there are none. This creepy highway is all theirs.

Somehow the sun is braking through the canopy and its warm, blessed beams begin to reach the forrest floor and Hwy 112. In short order steam appears at ground level. Lots of dim,white steam wafts upward. Upward out of the damned,dank forest. The steam increases as they cross a rusted bridge. A black on white sign proclaims Elwah River.

The Vista Cruiser has seat belts which the Smiths wear religiously. Mark`s is firmly slung over his right shoulder to his left waist. Mark finds its pressure reassuring as he leans into it slightly forward, passing rapidly from awake to asleep and back again. He recalls the previous Friday night at the drive-in on this very front seat with the delectable Helen Plumber and....WHAT THE HELL IS SHE DOING HERE!

The woman appears standing at the right side of the road. She makes eye contact with Mark and steps in front of the speeding Vista Cruiser. There is a loud snapping sound as the center of the hood blasts her to atoms!

Steve dynamites the brakes throwing Susan into the rear of the front seat. Mark`s seat belt holds as he stiff-arms the padded dash. Steve's hands clamp tight on the steering wheel in a death grip. The big Olds skids obediently straight forward until it comes to a lurching stop.

There is silence for a long moment then a gasp from Steve and a wail from Susan.

"She jumped in front of me!" Steve shouts.
"What's happening?" Susan is disoriented.
Mark takes breath and answers "We hit somebody."
"You saw her!" Steve sounds surprised.
"Hit who?" Susan asks.
Mark blinks rapidly as he stammers "The Lady".

Steve gradually regains himself and reaches up to adjust the rear-view mirror. He can't bring himself to get out and look just yet. He scans the highway behind the car using the mirror. Nothing.

"We hit her,right?" It isn't really a question.
Mark answers "Yes, dead center". Dad, I'm going to have a look".
Steve nods and Mark opens the door and climbs out. He moves woodenly to the back of the car eyes scanning for carnage. Negative. No Body. No stack of bones sticking out of a pile of mashed meat. Nothing.

"Nothing here Dad."

Steve`s door opens and he joins Mark. He lights a cigarette Marks sees his hand shaking. Steve's face was white with terror as he says "She might be in those bushes." Indicating both sides of the highway.

The sound of Susan`s door opening brings Steve back around. "Stay in the car Honey."It's an order. For once she obeys without a quarrel and shuts the door.

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