Heat Stroke
You’re just sitting there, trying to fan yourself off from the heat as you wait for you mother to come back from inside the shop. By chance, perhaps, you glance over to your left where another car is parked, empty and probably even more sweltering than your own. You roll up the windows and turn the key your mom left in case it got too hot. As the whoosh of cool air hit you in the face, you hear a strange sound, almost a knock on your window. You don’t look, thinking it impossible, because there was nobody there a second ago. But soon, there is a movement out of the corner of your eye. You whip your head around, but there is nothing. All you can see if the interior of the car next to you, and a few odd buildings, all closed for the day. You chalk it up to the heat, one of those wisps you see on hot blacktop on days like today. You move to change the radio station when you see it again, almost a face, sitting in the back of the car next to you. But as soon as you turn to see it clearly, it vanishes. You find you can do this every time, turn away and see the face, and have it disappear when you turn at it directly. You sit, staring out the windshield, but secretly paying attention the the car out of the corner of your left eye. The figure is hooded, tan, and more gaunt than any human you have ever seen. It seems to be laughing, almost, as his body blurs in and out of your already struggling focus. Your concentration is pulled away only when your mom returns with her grocery bags, turning down the air conditioner and putting the car in drive. You press your face against your window, desperate for one last look before you drive away. But not to worry, for the first time, you can see him without using only your peripheral vision, his massive eyes and overgrown mouth twisted into a grin as the creature waved goodbye. You turn back to the front, sweating and shaking uncontrollably. At that moment you know, you have not seen the last of that wicked being. Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on Creepypasta.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed under any circumstance.