October 2025 "The White Truck in the Dead Night" by Leslie Rivera

     I’ve never liked driving at night. The low visibility from the dark and the obnoxiously bright headlights of other drivers make me anxious. Roads I have driven on hundreds of times become unfamiliar and treacherous in my mind, and you never know what kind of drivers are on the road. So, you could imagine how much worse driving on a road I’ve never been on at night, with zero reception, far from home, with no way to contact someone if things went south. I don’t know how I convinced myself to go on a solo road trip with my borderline incapacitating anxiety. I think I just wanted to get out of my comfort zone and prove to myself that if I can survive a one-person road trip, I can survive making a phone call. But the longer this trip goes on, the more I regret even thinking of doing this. Every sound, every stranger reminds me how isolated and vulnerable I am. I try to reason with myself that most of the people on the road with me don’t want to hurt me and that they don’t care enough about me to even think about bringing me harm. And that is what I’m telling myself as the truck behind me drives a little bit too close, that they are just a reckless driver. It certainly doesn’t help that their high beams are on; I can’t even see the driver themself. I don’t understand why they won’t just go around me; there is literally no one else on the road. I’ve tried to signal them. I even honked at first. It was short. Then, it was longer. I try to ignore the growing dread telling me that this whoever is driving that truck is bad news, that they are just as human as I am, that they are just annoyed at my slow driving.

     The looming trees create a makeshift tunnel, make the road that feeds the sense of isolation and kills nearly any natural light that comes from the night sky. Eventually, a weakness in the tree's oppressive shield allows a sliver of moonlight to enter, and it is only then I was able to try to get a glimpse of the driver behind me. At first, they looked pretty normal, but at a second glance, it almost seemed like the driver was fuzzy. Almost like I was looking at him through a foggy lens, confusion briefly took over any fear. I decided to do something admittedly stupid; I pulled over and waited for the driver’s next action. To my surprise, he just drove past me. I felt so dumb making this whole situation a bigger deal than it needed to be. After allowing myself to recover from the shock, I got back on the road and continued my journey. The next few minutes were relatively quiet with only embarrassment to keep me company. Just as I was beginning to lose myself in the monotony of the drive, a blinding flash of light stung my eyes. When I looked in the rearview mirror, my stomach dropped. It was the same truck that was tailgating me not 10 minutes ago. I couldn’t even use logic to fend off the anxiety telling me that I was in danger, panic stuck through every nerve, and I floored it. I refused to even look back. All I could think about was getting to town and off this road. After what felt like an eternity, I saw the brightening glow of streetlights and the welcomed noise of a town. And better yet, the truck was gone now. But what the hell happened... why did it disappear the moment I got into town? Nothing bound in reality could explain what I experienced, so I have to consider the irrational. I have to consider the possibility that what had been chasing me was not of this earth, not of life. Whether or not it was something supernatural, it is the only answer that holds under the weight of confusion and will allow me to have any sort of peace.