u/_COCAINEblizzard

I don’t believe in urban legends.

Or… I didn’t.

I’m from a small town in the countryside of Brazil. The kind of place where after 10 PM, the streets are empty. Dirt roads, flickering streetlights, dogs barking at nothing. People here love talking about crossroads and things you’re not supposed to answer.

I always thought it was bullshit.

Until that night.

I was riding my motorcycle back home from a friend’s place. It was close to midnight. Maybe a little past. The fastest way back cuts through a rural road that crosses an old four-way intersection — just dirt paths, open fields, and a few crooked eucalyptus trees.

There was no wind.

No insects.

Nothing.

As I got closer to the crossroads, my headlight flickered. Just for a second. I thought it was the battery, so I revved the engine a bit.

It came back.

Then I heard it.

“Lucas…”

I froze.

It was my mom’s voice.

Soft. Dragged out. Like it was coming from far away… but somehow right next to me.

I killed the engine immediately.

Everything went silent except for the ticking sound of the hot metal cooling down.

“Lucas… help me…”

My mom wasn’t there. She doesn’t even leave the house at night.

But my body reacted before my brain did.

“Mom?”

The silence that followed felt… wrong.

Heavy.

Then the smell hit me.

I’ve never smelled anything like that before.

Not just something dead. It was like a freshly opened grave — wet soil mixed with rotting flesh, something sweet and sickening at the same time.

Panic kicked in.

I grabbed my phone to call her.

No signal.

“Lucas…”

This time it was behind me.

Close.

Too close.

I swear… I felt something touch the back of my neck. Not a hand. Just… cold. Damp.

I turned around.

There was no one there.

But something was on the ground.

A pile of dirt.

Moving.

Like it was breathing.

And then… it started to rise.

Slowly.

Not like in movies.

Whatever that thing was… it looked wrong. Like it had been put together incorrectly. Arms too long. Head hanging to one side. Something dark dripping off it — I couldn’t tell if it was mud or something else.

And the sound…

A dry, scraping voice.

“Luuuu… caaaas…”

But it wasn’t my mom anymore.

It was like something had learned how to copy a voice… without understanding how a human voice actually works.

I didn’t think. I just started the bike.

It turned on instantly.

As I took off, I heard something dragging itself behind me.

Fast.

Too fast.

I made the mistake of checking the mirror.

I regret that.

It was coming after me.

Not running.

Pulling itself forward with its arms, way too fast for something shaped like that. Its head snapping sideways like its neck couldn’t hold it in place.

And smiling.

I don’t know how I know that.

But it was.

I pushed the bike as hard as I could. The whole thing shaking, wind hitting my face.

And the voice kept coming.

Now mixed.

My mom. My dad. My ex.

“Lucas, stop…”

“Lucas, come back…”

“help us…”

I didn’t stop.

I didn’t look again.

I just rode.

When I reached town, the lights stopped flickering. The smell was gone. The sound… gone.

I stopped in front of my house, shaking.

My mom opened the gate.

“You just got home? I was asleep.”

I didn’t say anything.

Just went inside.

I didn’t sleep that night.

But here’s the worst part.

The next morning, I checked my bike.

The back of it was dirty.

Not normal mud.

Dark soil… stuck to the metal… with a faint but unmistakable smell.

And there were marks.

Finger marks.

Too long to be human.

Like something had been holding onto it while I was riding away.

I don’t take that road anymore.

I never will.

But sometimes… late at night…

when everything gets too quiet…

I still hear it.

Right outside my window.

“Lucas…”

I haven’t answered since.

And if you have any sense at all…

you won’t either.