The following short story was presented at the Jersey City Writers’ monthly genre event–Creepypasta: A Literary Reading of Web Horror. Please enjoy.

ASKREDDIT: What’s the creepiest thing to have happened to you?



Ok. Throw away account here. Even though it’s almost 3 decades later, I still don’t like to talk about it.

I was a sophomore in high school and my boyfriend John and I were out on a double date with Chris Babineaux and Kim Landry. We had gone out eat at Bennigan’s and then went to see Pretty in Pink at the Lakeside Mall. Typical double date night.

All of us had a midnight curfew, so after the movie we didn’t spend that much time at the Lakefront making out.

Now this was before the elevated 310 highway was built, but there were a couple of roads to pick from to get home.

We could have taken Almeda Road that night. It was populated and short. We could have taken the freshly paved and perfectly lit Ormond Blvd. But we didn’t.

There was another road more desolate and swampy and dark. It didn’t have a name. That’s the one we picked.

That piece of road was a straight two laner with thick swamp on both sides and dim street lamps spaced too far apart to make them useful.  And it was a long road. I am not sure exactly how long, but it took a good twenty minutes to go end to end at 90.

That night was hotter than a typical August night. Southeast Louisiana was at the mercy of a heat wave and temperatures were running unnaturally higher near midnight than at noon earlier that day. A good night for some swamp driving to end a double date with.

Boys will be boys – especially teenage ones – so when John turned onto that back road, I could see the looked of excitement on his face as if he made a touchdown and hit a backseat home run.  He was going to go as fast as his dad’s LTD could down that swamp road.

So, the windows got turned down and the radio got turned up.

With in 60 seconds of John making that left turn, we felt like we were flying. Swamp air vacuumed in and out of the car. Hot. Cool. Hot. Hot. Cool. Youth at it’s most reckless. Simple Minds at the height of their musical powers blasting through the tinny speakers of the LTD.

Alive and Kicking!

I looked at the speedometer. John was doing 70 but was accelerating. It made me tingle to think we might get to 100. I closed my eyes and breathed in the bayou air, feeling the delicious cool kiss of it on my skin.

That’s when Kim screamed. It wasn’t a regular girly my-boyfriend-is-tickling-me scream – it was a Jesus-Fucking-Christ scream.

Something was following us. Something man-shaped and large and winged. It had huge red eyes and fangs and claws…Well, soon we were all screaming and it screamed right back at us!

Just as that filthy flying thing would catch up to us it would pull back and then swoop forward again.

John put the peddle to the metal. I remember Chris yelling, “Faster, bro!”

When we finally hit River Road – making the hardest left an LTD ever made – it was gone. Just like that.

After calming down a bit, we all mutually agreed that Swamp Gas caused us to hallucinate that Dirty Great Monster.  Hot night. Heat wave. Decomposing stuff in the bayou eating up the oxygen. Swamp Gas.

I was happy to go the rest of my life with that explanation. But John wouldn’t let me. He just had to show me the claw marks on the back of his dad’s LTD the next morning.



tl;dr: Took trip through swamp; scarred for life


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