Few things are as enduring in the social fabric as the urban legend. Regardless of any particular region one may choose to investigate, the odds are favorable that it will lay claim to one or more such stories. Of course, the vast majority of these are just that, stories, where the documented truth becomes distorted or fabricated over time with little or no merit.

The usual concepts of many have become generic right down to every major detail. A small sample size of such tales would include an escaped mental patient with a hook, an endlessly ringing telephone, haunted houses, haunted bridges, vanishing hitchhikers, and the like. The majority of these are nothing more than ghost story fodder for campfires, or the aging remnants of morality warnings from a bygone era. What is the most frightful aspect of any such urban legend? The portion of it, small as it may be, that is grounded in reality...

Brandon Purkiss is a thirty-eight year old resident of Oak Grove, Michigan. An architect by trade, he is what most people would label as a success. Married with two young children, a stylish upper-middle class home, and ample vacation time, life for the Purkiss family appears quite beautiful on the outside. As is so often the case, on the inside the picture is not as rosy as the lush gardens outside. Married for nine years, the two have been through the good times and the bad. The primary causes of stress and strain on the marriage include the occupational pressure of working long hours, along with sporadic incidents contributed by the damsel from the bottle that is alcohol. No physical abuse or confrontation, but rather circumstantial evidence of infidelity on the part of Brandon that has led to a sometimes rocky state of affairs in the household.

Driving home from work shortly after seven o’clock in the evening, the October sky has grown dark with the coming night. A menacing thunderstorm has developed as Brandon makes his usual route home, the downpour of rain blurring his vision with flashes of lightning providing temporary moments of visibility.

While rounding the curve of the road of Gratiot, from out of the darkness the driver notices a figure. Squinting to make out what he is looking at, he finds a young woman wearing green and grey casual wear, sopping wet from head to toe from the storm. She is casually raising her thumb in order to seek a ride, doing so in a manner to suggest that she has never hitchhiked before. Doing the noble thing, he pulls over to the side of the road, offering the woman a ride, which she readily accepts.

Following a short period of awkward silence, Brandon asks the girl what she was doing out in the storm. “Jogging,” she replies, staring straight ahead.

“Difficult night to get caught out in weather like this. It just happens like this sometimes, when I left my office the skies were clear,” replies Brandon. “Do you live a few blocks from here?” he asks.

She nods in a manner that can best be characterized as solemn in nature. “Armour Street.”   

“Great,” replies Brandon. “So, are you in college, or, what do you do?”

“Grove East High School. There is my house” she responds, pointing at a stately yellow home as Brandon pulls onto Armour street. “Thank you for the lift,” she says as the car is parked.

“You’re welcome, stay dry now!” replies Brandon, a statement befitting of an older man conversing with a young woman. The girl walks up to the door as Brandon watches, before he looks down at his cell phone. Little does he know it, but in the three seconds or so between glances, the girl vanishes into the stormy night air. Assuming that she had entered the house, Brandon drives off.

 Back at home, Mrs. Purkiss, who has been sick for a few days battling a sinus infection, is about to receive quite a surprise. Arriving home, Brandon proclaims as such, giving her a coconut. “I’m not sure this will make me feel better,” she says.

“That may not but what it represents might just do the trick. I got us two tickets to Hawaii for our anniversary next month!” he responds. Excitement proceeds to ring triumphantly through the house with the exception of the two kids, who have been shunned from the tropical getaway, relegated to spending a week with grandpa.

Living high and mighty for the next several days, the mood changes one night while on the way home from work. A heavy fog has rolled in off of the lake, blanketing the area in a misty haze. Rounding the long curve in the road, he once again spots a figure looming in the darkness. Through the haze of the night he learns it is a beautiful woman in a long, flowing blue dress. Looking quite dazzling in the dim moonlight, she beckons Brandon, thumbing him for a hitchhike. Slowing down to provide a lift, he does not realize it until she enters the car, but this is the same woman from before.  

“It’s you! What are you doing out here again? And all dressed up. You look like you are on your way to the prom?” a perplexed Brandon asks.

“I was going to go to the prom, but my boyfriend”... she utters, trailing off.

“You had a fight?” he asks in response. Noticing her eyes dart away from him and towards the floor, he invokes her silence as acceptance. “Did he leave you out here?” Once again her eyes are glued to the floor, as she begins to cry. “I’m sorry to hear that, hey, it will be all right. I’ll take you wherever you would like to go. If you want to go to the dance, or back home, just let me know.”

“There is a place on Forest Street I would like to go,” she replies.

Not wishing to upset her with conversation, Brandon keeps to himself for the next five minutes of the drive, as the girl quietly sobs to herself. “Right up here,” she says between tears. He follows her instructions, going in the direction of her pointed finger. “Please stop the car,” she says, as Brandon parks in front of the cemetery. Slowly turning to him, her lips open, “I need to show you something.”

“Here? The cemetery is closed. If you need to grieve, I think your family would be the best place to be. You could always come back here tomorrow,” replies Brandon.

The girl shakes her head. “Tonight happens to be an anniversary. Our anniversary,” she says, looking down at the floor before sobbing again. She steps out of the vehicle and towards the gates.

“Oh my God,” Brandon says aloud to himself, still in the car. This poor girl’s boyfriend must be dead, and today would have been their anniversary. That is why she is dressed up, there is no prom, not in October.”

For the second time, Brandon misses a paranormal experience, as the gates part for the girl as she enters the cemetery, between Brandon’s thoughts.

Not wishing to leave the loves struck young woman in a dark graveyard at night, he follows her through the gates. She does not say a single word as he walks through the graves, in a seemingly aimless fashion. Stopping suddenly, she points to the ground at a tombstone encrusted in the Earth. It reads: Janet Shaughnessy 1976-1994.

“Who was this?” he asks, looking at her. She looks up from the grave and towards him, before slowly vanishing.

Sometimes it takes a moment for the brain to comprehend sudden injury to a bodily appendage before the resulting pain ensues. The same concept applied here to Brandon, who attempted to come to terms with the phenomenon he had just experienced, but finding no logic or reason for the sudden vanishing.

“Janet Shaughnessy? 1994? Anniversary?” he asks himself. The proverbial light bulb is set off in his brain, sending a chilling shockwave that tingles down his spine before settling in his stomach, which feels as if a bomb had just exploded.

Brandon closes his eyes and drifts back to another life...at least it felt like a past life. 1994. It was a much different world, but he was there. He flashes back to the time when he was an eighteen-year old high school student celebrating the end of one era and the beginning of a new time of his life—-college. Unfortunately he was celebrating a little too hard, as adolescents often do. Leaving a party at about five o’clock in the morning, Brandon was at the point where he believed that he could get behind the wheel and make it home in one piece, yet he had consumed more than enough to impair his driving. Poor visibility, impaired motor skills and a sharp curve in the road are the ingredients for disaster. Add into the mix an innocent bystander on the sidewalk who happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and you have a tragedy.

In the wake of the accident, visions of years of hard work under his belt danced through Brandon’s head, work that had paved the way for a scholarship to attend a prestigious university with the dream of becoming an architect intact. In the blink of an eye those dreams were at a crossroads, in the aftermath of the fatal collision. Connecting the dots and putting the pieces of the puzzle together, Brandon reached a difficult conclusion. The girl, who appeared to be roughly his age, was dead. Still an hour to go before sunrise, the area was dark, and there was not a witness in site. Nor were there any other cars in the vicinity. Doing the right thing would result in not merely an arrest for driving under the influence, but a charge of involuntary manslaughter. Brandon jumped back in the car and drove off, leaving that world behind.

He would go on to graduate college and become the architect, just as he had planned, and enjoy a great life. He had rarely so much as thought about the hit and run, much less discussing the matter with anyone. The next several days and nights were spent attempting to figure out what his next course of action should be. Alerting the authorities would do little good he reasoned, possibly jeopardizing his career, depending on the flexibility of the statute of limitations. The only recourse deemed acceptable would be speaking to the family directly.

     The following evening Brandon pulls up to the house where he had been a few weeks ago with the ghostly daughter. Ringing the doorbell, he is greeted by an elderly woman who is reluctant to speak to the stranger until he offers information on the daughter’s accident, gaining the attention of the mother and subsequently the father of the decedent.

     “I was eighteen-years old, and had been drinking. I never met to hurt her, but I came around that curve on Gratiot too fast and the next thing I knew, I was off of the road and had struck something. All I could think about was my future, and going away to college. I was young and afraid, and not mature enough to own up to my mistakes and face the consequences. All I can do is apologize to you, I am eternally sorry, I owe you for the pain and anguish and loss of life, I will provide you with whatever you wish for compensation,” a heartfelt Brandon says as he begins crying, hugging each parent.

     The father rises up off of the couch and begins to speak. “You probably think that you are providing us with closure. We appreciate you coming and telling us the truth. You were able to go off to college and live your life. Your reckless behavior deprived Janet of her life. We were never able to see our daughter graduate and go off to college, or get married, or anything. You deprived both her, and us, of her future, making her the victim of a damn hit and run. She was on the sidewalk for God sake!” exclaims the clearly shaken man. With his voice rising steadily, he proclaims “We don’t want your damn money, it won’t bring her back, nothing will! I hope this whole ordeal has haunted you, and will continue to haunt you for the rest of your life!” the father screams.

     “More than you’ll ever know,” whispers Brandon after the door is closed on him. The anticipated outburst from the father provides Brandon with an idea. As crazy as it sounds, there is a way to bring their daughter back to them. It may be her spirit, but it is their girl nonetheless. His mood changing from saddened to encouragement, he returns to the curve in the road along Gratiot in the hope of seeing the ghost again. Passing by the location he becomes discouraged, not finding her to be anywhere in site. Driving up to the cemetery, he wanders towards the grave, but is unable to find it as darkness falls. Giving up, he leaves the cemetery, setting course for home.

     As he pulls into the driveway, the ghost returns, appearing inside of the car in the passenger seat. “Talk about scaring me half to dea—-um, hello,” he says.

     “I stopped at your parents and apologized”. Janet’s ghost nods in acknowledgement. “I would like to apologize to you as well, for everything. How can I make this up to you?” he asks. She motions him to step out of the car, as she does likewise. She then steps towards Brandon with her arms extended in the form of a hug, seeking to embrace him for his forgiveness. The two hug, but the moment is interrupted when Janet looks into his eyes and delivers a soft kiss.

     The kiss relieves Brandon of some tension, but it draws the ire of Mrs. Purkiss, who is looking on in shock, having witnessed the entire episode from her window. The disgusted wife opens the door, calling to her husband, before slamming it shut. Once the wife is away from view, Janet’s ghost disappears in a heartbeat.

For a marriage that had been on the rocks, this act of infidelity proves to be the final straw for the embittered wife, who promptly files for divorce, dissolving the nine-year marriage.

About a month later, with moving van intact, Brandon Purkiss is driving out of Oak Grove forever. Rounding the curve of Gratiot Road one last time, he needs to make one final stop before continuing on his journey.

Pulling up to the cemetery, he steps out of the vehicle, as just one thought grapples his mind as he walks underneath the leaves of the autumn maples, stained in a yellow molasses. That thought is about how the beautiful ghost of Janet Shaughnessy proved to be nothing shy of a most vengeful spirit. Reaching her tombstone, he speaks aloud, providing her with a final statement.

“After all of this time, I now know how you feel. I will forever wonder what might have been, had I been able to go to Hawaii with my wife to reinvigorate my marriage, what my future would have been with my wife and children. Much like you, I’m deprived of that. I will never know, and I will take those unanswered questions to my grave. I apologize once again, and I hope that we are even now,” he says as he drops a bouquet of flowers on the grave.

Brandon Purkiss drives off and out of town, never to return again, and the hitchhiking ghost is never seen again.

 

END