Despite promising myself not to write any more weird stories of the supernatural or paranormal in late November, I find myself putting this one to paper with the hope of ridding my brain of the ever-playing memory I witnessed on my way home.
It had grown dark when I started north on Geiger Grade last night. The rain, a slight drizzling nuisance much of the day, had become a near-blinding downpour.
Having driven down to where I could see the Virginia Foothills and the metros of Reno and Sparks further in the valley, I had been going slower than the posted speed. At the second to last curve before reaching the final turnout and just beyond my headlights, I thought I saw the beginning of a rock slide.
Slowing to a near stop, I watched as the large boulder tumbled, then spread out onto the roadway, before standing up. It was not a mineral deposit but an animal that my brain translated into a big dog or smallish bear.
In one stride, it leaped over the guardrail and disappeared down the steep grade, or so I thought. As I pulled alongside where the thing had gone, I saw a man walking outside the rail.
As I passed him, he turned his head and looked at me. Much of his bearded face was shrouded in darkness, yet the car’s headlights caught his eyes, which glowed a phosphoretic green.
Stepping on the gas pedal, I drove rapidly down the hill toward the end of 341. But not even speeding would prevent me from seeing him again as he was now standing slightly outside the glow of the light cast by the 7-11 store.
And though I had an anniversary party to return to Virginia City to attend, I withdrew to the safety of my home, desirous of not venturing into the dark and rain of the night again.
The Old Blog in the Desert 