A Ghost at the Pass : A Story from my trucker collection.

In the winter of 2004 a wild blizzard all but shut down the province of Nova Scotia. Michael* was caught in the storm, attempting to truck a load of goods to a large grocery store in New Brunswick. It was slow going, and the big rig was rolling along at 50 kilometres an hour at the best of times. Michael played a guessing game with himself, trying to figure out where the pavement stopped and started, relying on his hundreds of hours driving the 102 back and forth, just barely able to see the dull grey of the guard rail at the edge of the highway. The trailer rocked wildly in the gale force winds, threatening to send the rig off the road at any moment.

A call from Michaels’ wife was enough to snap him back to his senses, call times be damned, and he agreed to pull over and weather the storm in the cab of his truck. He told himself he’d drive the last ten minutes to the toll at the Cobequid Pass, and pull over in the lanes there. As he approached, he could see a few dozen vehicles were stuck already. The pull over lanes were full, and Michael brought the truck to a stop on the highway. He surveyed his surroundings, but could only see the tail lights of other motorists, everything else was a haze of whiteness, snow and exhaust as far as he could see.

After talking for a while and checking in with the office, Michael settled in for what experience told him could be hours of waiting, first for the snow to stop, and then for the roads to be cleared of a foot or more of powder. He listened to the chatter of the CB for a while, it seemed a hundred other truck drivers were in the same position as him. He pulled out his small DVD player and watched old western movies to pass the hours, the wind and snow howling in the background, rocking the cab. He soon drifted off to sleep.

Michael awoke with a start when his stranded neighbour slammed closed a door. He decided to get up and survey the storm. Maybe people were moving. It was dark now, and the snow was still howling, piling up around the smaller cars. The scene was a dead expanse of snow, tail lights now hardly visible under a layer of white. Michael sat himself in the drivers’ seat and switched on the radio to catch a weather report. He’d be here for hours yet. Fifteen minutes passed, and then thirty, and Michael was entranced by the storm.

Far ahead in the line of cars he noticed a shadow in the headlights. A dark shape drifted around to the drivers’ window, peered in for a few seconds, and then moved along. Michael felt comforted, and thought it was nice of the toll operators, or maybe the police to check on weary, stranded motorists. Things could go bad quickly for anyone who wasn’t prepared, or ran out of gas. The dark shape came closer down the line of cars, peering in on passengers who Michael figured were mostly asleep. Michael could see the shape was tapping on some windows before moving down the line. It was coming closer now, and Michael was paying close attention; he had more food in the truck than he needed and he was willing to lend a hand if anyone was in need. Each vehicle was passed by, no windows rolled down, no communication, just a look in the window, or a few taps maybe to awaken a sleeping driver.

The figure was only two cars ahead of Michaels big rig now, and it was funny, he had thought, that the blackness of the person still had no real shape to be seen. He supposed that anyone weathering this blizzard would have to be dressed in some bulky layers. One car ahead now, and she shape rapped on the window and peered in through the glass.

Michael sat up straighter in the drivers’ seat, ready to invite the watcher in for a drink. He noticed the shape was gliding towards the cab of his truck. He slipped on a pair gloves, ready to open the door. He waited for the rap on the cab, but none came. He peered out the window and that’s when it appeared to him. There at the window of his truck, which was easily 8 feet off the ground, was a black shapeless figure peering in on him. It seemed to look straight through him. Michael could barely make out a face, but its eyes were undeniably bright. The hairs on Michaels’ neck and forearms stood on end, and a chill ran down his spine. In an instant, the figure had moved on.

Startled, Michael opened the trucks door against the wind, and squinted hard against the snow, looking down the line of cars. He could see the black shape two cars behind him, peering in, rapping on windows. He threw on his coat and walked quickly toward it, trudging through knee deep snow. He peered in through the windows of the vehicles he passed, the drivers were asleep, except for one, whose pale horrified stare had chilled Michaels’ bones more than the storm. When he broke the gaze of the man in the car he looked ahead toward the black shape, still gliding through the snow. Something told him he would never catch it.

When he climbed back into the cab of his truck, he turned on the CB, sending out a call to the other stranded drivers to look for the figure. He only received one reply. A voice squawked over the airwaves, “You can’t catch Death, Mike. He only catches you.”

Michael is convinced that’s exactly what he saw that night; the lonely spectre of Death, checking in on stranded motorists, searching for souls who may have perished in the storm.

When he was able to leave the next afternoon, stranded on the Pass for close to 20 hours, he swore to himself that if ever he was stranded in a storm again, he would be the one to check in on any others, allowing Death to scavenge elsewhere.

a reply to: Atsbhct

Okay, that was a good yarn. Well told and it resonated with me because of my own experience with seeing death while in a car.

a reply to: Atsbhct

Good story...I get a feeling that Michael is a very kind and good soul. I would like to have more about Michael, maybe with other character interaction.

Thanks for the read.

I actually don't know anything more about Michael as he was a real person who related this story to me while I was working at a gas station.

He did indeed seem like a kind and gentle man.

a reply to: Missmissie173

a reply to: Atsbhct

That was one creepy story. There's no way I would have gotten out of the truck like that.
So, do you interview truckers for these stories?

I did, for about 7 years while I worked at an off highway gas station. I saw so many truckers and eventually created a dialogue with a lot of them about creepy things they had seen on the road. Eventually drivers would stop in just to tell me a creepy story they had heard or had been part of. It was a lot of fun and I enjoyed writing them down.

a reply to: Skid Mark

a reply to: redhorse

I would have been terrified. Care to share your story?

a reply to: Atsbhct

That's really cool. Have you thought of publishing them in a book?

I would absolutely love to, but have no idea how to go about it and haven't done any research into the process.

a reply to: Skid Mark

a reply to: Atsbhct

If I knew I'd help. That would be one interesting read.

Ooooh, good spooky story!!!! Learn about getting those stories published, it would be a good sell!

originally posted by: Atsbhct
a reply to: redhorse

I would have been terrified. Care to share your story?

I can't because I think it would break the forum rules. I'll pm it to you if you are still interested. It's not nearly so exciting as the one that you relayed though but it was a weird experience. If you are collecting stories you can have that one if you want it.

a reply to: redhorse

I'm interested in reading about that, too. If you're afraid of breaking forum rules I have a thread where people can share their creepy or weird stories. You could share it there so everybody else could read it as well.

a reply to: Skid Mark

It is from back in my tumultuous youth. There are hard drugs involved (not psychedelic's) and I've probably said too much already with their zero tolerance policy.

a reply to: Skid Mark

Aw well if they pop me they pop me.

I haven't done drugs in fifteen years. Drugs are bad (obligatory do as I say not as I do, or did). Most of the crowd I hung out with at that time in my life are dead or in prison, the rest are... well, let's just say I don't know how they are alive. People that crawl out of a hole that deep are rare.

So.... When I was 21 I was a meth addict. Big time. I was living out of my car or whoever's temporary couch. I was lice infested and I weighed 70 something pounds. So... some useless jerk decided to "teach me a lesson" (or so he said) and gave me a line laced with... I dunno what. But it damn near killed me. For two days I was layed up on someone's couch and drifted in and out of conversations where they were trying to figure out what to do with my body. I came out of it and almost immediately went looking for more drugs.

I was with a guy who was searching with me and he was driving because I was still damn-near-dead. We stopped at a house and he went in to buy some and I waited in the car in the passengers seat. As I was sitting there I felt a pressure on my left leg, I thought there was a moth or something, it was so light. I looked down, and I saw, no kidding, a HUGE skeletal hand on my leg. I followed that arm up and what was sitting in the driver's side of the car was too big to be sitting there. It was like the car had expanded to fit him but was too small at the same time. He looked at me but it was not a skull, it was a human shaped black mass with very bright blue eyes. The only thing that registered as skeletal was the hand on my knee.

I was a little scared, but mostly... resigned, accepting even. I was so tired. I looked away at the house where the guy had gone in and all I could think of was how funny it was that I was going to hell in a Nissan. When I looked back to say "Okay, let's go", it was gone.

The guy came back and I told him to keep the Stuff I didn't want it. I would like to be able to say that that scared me straight right there and all was well, but it took me two more years to finally kick the stuff. I will say that the moment of that decision when I walked away was very clear and that figure was very prominent in my mind.

a reply to: redhorse

I got you. Yeah, they don't allow talk about drugs. They had a problem with people talking about nothing but getting high I guess.

a reply to: redhorse

I don't think you'll get in trouble for that, I hope. You weren't really in detail about doing it, just mentioned that you did.
I'm glad that you were able to straighten your life out. Most in that situation don't.
That's a pretty scary story, too. That's a scared straight story if I ever heard one.

a reply to: redhorse

Death had it in for you on that day!

Let's all say it together, Drugs are Bad, Mmkay.