There’s Something Wrong With Exit 181
Channel: Scary Stories
Date: 2022-11-30

There’s Something Wrong With Exit 181

I had always liked driving alone at night. It gave me time to think, or to not think if I so chose. Because of my love for driving, the midnight trip home was one of my favorite parts about going to see my family. The drive was about an hour long. Which was long enough for me to unwind, but short enough to not feel exhausting. Call me old-fashioned, but I really enjoyed listening to the radio while I drove as well. I’d tune into whatever the local station happened to be playing as I zoned out while watching the reflective yellow lines on the road pass rapidly by me. There often weren’t but a handful of cars traveling along this stretch of highway so late into the night, and this gave me a sense of solitude. But I liked it, it was meditative in a way. 

One night when I was returning home from a visit with the folks, I was enjoying the trip the same as I always had. The skies were almost completely dark, with just a thin sliver of moon and scattered stars peaking through the black. The radio was playing some old jazz song, and there wasn’t a single soul sharing the road with me. It was peaceful. 

But just as I was sighing in contentment, the smooth and calming sounds of the jazz radio abruptly cut off into a roaring static. 

“Krrrrrrrrr!”

“Ah! Shit!” I hissed to myself as my hand quickly shot to the radio to turn it down. I now sighed in frustration, annoyed that my peace had been broken so suddenly. After messing with the dial for a moment and failing to get the radio signal back, I decided to pull out my phone and try to connect it to my car's speakers so that I’d still have something to listen to. But after rummaging through my jacket pocket in search of the device, I at last pulled it out only to find that the battery had died. I had a bad habit of not keeping the thing charged and now it was biting me in the ass. 

“Welp, guess I’m screwed if I get into a wreck!” I jabbed at myself, irritated that I hadn’t thought to charge it at my family’s place. With little other choice, I accepted that the remainder of my trip would be one without music to keep my company. 

After a few minutes, I became curious as to exactly how much of a drive was left. I checked the clock to see that it read 12:34. Remembering leaving my parent’s house just a bit after midnight, I concluded that there was roughly a half an hour left before I’d arrive home. Sighing deeply in frustration again, I resigned myself to focus on the road ahead of me. 

The painted, yellow lines of the road crawled quickly into the view of my headlights and underneath the hood of my car. I watched them carefully for a while, my mind struggling to remain focused. When finally lifting my gaze back up to the road, an odd feeling of anxiety came over me. Maybe it was just the lack of music to occupy my thoughts, but I couldn’t help but feel like the darkness that engulfed my vehicle was a little too thick. I wasn’t able to make out any of the usual trees or landscape that surrounded the highway, nor could I see the stars in the sky. I thought back to when I’d started my journey home and distinctly remembered admiring the pin pricks of light when I first got on the highway. But I didn’t recall seeing any clouds or oncoming storms that would otherwise block them from view now. 

The feeling gnawed at my psyche for a bit, but I shook it off as best as possible. I told myself there was nothing to worry about. Soon I’d arrive at my exit, and not long after that I’d be home. Checking the time again, I furrowed my brow in confusion. The clock still read 12:34. That was strange, I knew it had been at least a few minutes since I’d last checked.

“Oh great,” I said to myself, “I guess the clock is broken.” 

Still, I didn’t think much of this at the time. Knowing I probably only had about 10 minutes or so left on the highway before my exit, I decided I would worry about recalibrating the clock when I got home. 

With no other choice, I continued driving like nothing was wrong, ignoring the creeping feeling that was slowly working its way up my spine. More time passed, and I found myself glancing toward the edge of the road for a sign. I didn’t normally pay much attention to the exits prior to my own, but I couldn't remember seeing even a single exit sign for quite awhile. Still, I kept onward, trying to convince myself that I was just tired and was just misjudging the amount of time that had gone by. 

Finally, after what felt like well over half an hour, I saw a sign approaching in the distance. As I got closer, I could see that it was a large green sign that read, “Exit 181, 1 mile.” I sighed in relief, knowing that meant I was almost at my exit, exit 182. Just a couple more miles and I’d be nearly home. 

After a minute or so, another sign came into view with a road that spanned right off of the highway. “Exit 181, next right,” it read. I passed by it, unthinking, my leg beginning to shake as the anxiety that had been chew