Three Minutes of Haunting in the Heart of the Motorway

The rain had been relentless for hours, a steady drumming on the windshield that blurred the world outside. The road ahead was a winding serpent, its dark, slick surface stretching into the distance. Jack had been driving for what felt like an eternity, his mind numbing with the monotony of the journey. The radio was off; he needed silence to cope with the overwhelming sense of dread that had settled over him.

It was on this stretch of the motorway, just past the sign that read "Three Minutes of Haunting," that Jack's life took a sinister turn. The sign had been there for as long as he could remember, a curious marker for a place that felt like a ghost town. Jack had always dismissed it as a local legend, but tonight, it seemed to loom over him with an ominous presence.

The headlights cut through the rain, illuminating the road ahead. Jack's hands were clammy, gripping the steering wheel with a vice-like grip. He checked the clock on his dashboard; it was 2:30 AM. The time seemed to crawl, each second a silent plea for the road to end.

Suddenly, the car in front of him slowed. Jack's instincts took over, and he slammed on the brakes. The car behind him honked furiously, but Jack's focus was elsewhere. The car ahead had come to a stop, its lights flickering in the rain. Jack's heart raced as he realized the driver was no longer moving.

He reached for the door handle, but it wouldn't budge. The car was locked. Jack's mind was a whirlwind of panic and confusion. He pounded on the window, but there was no response. The driver was still, as if he had become part of the car itself.

Jack's eyes widened as he noticed the driver's reflection in the rearview mirror. It was then that he saw it—the driver's eyes were wide with terror, and his mouth was agape as if he was trying to scream. Jack's breath caught in his throat; he felt a chill run down his spine.

"Get out of the car," a voice echoed in his mind. Jack looked around, but there was no one there. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to see the driver's hand reaching out to him. The hand was translucent, almost ghostly, and it seemed to pull him towards the car.

"No," Jack whispered, but the hand was relentless. He fought against it, but it was as if he was being yanked into a vortex of darkness. The car door finally opened, and Jack stumbled out, his legs weak and unsteady.

He looked back at the car, and to his horror, the driver was now standing outside, his eyes still wide with terror. Jack's mind raced as he tried to understand what was happening. The driver's mouth moved, but no sound came out. Jack's heart pounded in his chest as he realized the driver was trying to communicate something.

"Three minutes," the driver mouthed. Jack's eyes widened; he had seen the sign. Three minutes of haunting. What did it mean? He turned to run, but the road was gone. Instead, he found himself in a desolate landscape, the rain pouring down on him, and the driver's ghostly form standing before him, his eyes filled with a haunting plea.

Jack's mind was a whirlwind of fear and confusion. He tried to run, but his legs were heavy, and the ground seemed to swallow him whole. The driver's form loomed over him, and Jack felt the icy touch of death as the driver's hand reached out to him once more.

"No," Jack screamed, but it was too late. The hand wrapped around his neck, and Jack's world went black.

When he opened his eyes, he was back in the car, the driver's ghost now gone. Jack's heart was racing, and he could feel sweat pouring down his face. He looked at the clock; it was 2:33 AM. The driver had been right. It had only been three minutes.

Jack's mind was a whirlwind of questions. What had he seen? What had he felt? Was it real, or was it just his imagination? He started the car and drove off, the rain still pounding on the windshield, but his mind was elsewhere.

The road ahead was still long, but Jack's perspective had changed. The sign "Three Minutes of Haunting" no longer seemed like a local legend. It was a warning, a stark reminder that some things are best left unseen.

As he drove away, Jack couldn't shake the feeling that the driver's ghost was still there, watching him from the shadows. He wondered if he would ever make it home, if he would ever be free from the haunting that had begun on that stretch of the motorway.

The journey continued, but Jack's life had changed forever. The haunting had left its mark, and he knew that no matter how far he drove, the driver's ghost would always be there, waiting for the next unsuspecting soul to cross the path of the haunted highway.