It was only supposed to be some innocent like-minded fun, or that’s what I keep telling myself at least. Unfortunately, the flashbacks and night terrors have yet to wear off. I had first heard of this haunted dirt road that lies on the edge of Brandon, South Dakota from my mother. She had told me horror stories, one’s she had heard growing up of people going missing, paranormal activity and even the road changing and there not being the same amount of bridges on your way back. 

I was warned to keep myself safe and not to challenge the rumors I had heard, but my naive self was more intrigued than fearful and my desire to seek out the unknown was far too strong. I was determined to go down this road for myself and prove that I could survive with not much to report back, other than wasted gas and a mosquito graveyard on my bumper from the highway. 

I was sorely proven wrong. I wasn’t prepared for the gruesome night I’d have ahead of me. 

While convincing my closest friends to venture out with me, I knocked out any of the jitters I had built up and didn’t feel alone. If anything were to happen, it’d happen to all of us… which it did.

Finding the road was the trickiest part as it’s tucked behind a wooded entrance with no sign on where to turn into. Once my friends and I did manage to find it, we were immediately taken in by the lure of quick and curvy turns. There were no street lights, which would have been the first red flag, but we ignored it and continued on. We passed a total of three bridges before the road came to halt. It had been blocked off by a huge cement block bruccade, but that didn’t stop us from parking the car, hopping out and attempting to walk the rest of the way. I’ll never forget the deafening silence outside that night. Every step gave a sharp, startling, crunch as we walked toward the fourth bridge. The road must’ve been blocked off for a while because the paved patch of gravel had been cracked and overtaken by an infectious array of weeds and debris. It looked as if not a single soul had stepped foot on this road since the 80s when my mom did. When we finally reached the fourth bridge, we discovered a cave-like entrance configured of long, thin, tangled trees that curved into one another. By this time, we had lost sight of my car’s headlights and were left with only the soft glow of a full October moon. I remember feeling drawn toward them, compelled by their eerie mysteriousness. If only it wasn’t a trick. 

As soon as we made it through the gateway of trees, my friend Yasmine was snatched up by an extended finger-like branch that pulled her into the woods. I was paralyzed in fear and shock, but the sound of my friend’s screams were enough to break me free and run in after her. I couldn’t just save myself, afterall I was the one that dragged her out to the road in the first place. I raced through the scratchy vegetation, gasping for air and looking for any signs of where my friend had been taken. Of course, I had to trip over my dainty sandal strap, fall down and roll into the stream below. I was cold, drenched and choking down gulps of water, but luckily able to force myself up onto a sandy patch of land near-by. As I tried to gain a sense of the situation I was in, I was interrupted by a gruesome howl. Was it werewolves? A bear? A ghost? All I knew was that I wasn’t going to stay back and find out. I shot up and booked it to my car. A part of me had hoped my friend had found her way back too or that I’d have the chance to find her on the way. 

My wish had come true when I saw Yasmine curled up next to my front tire, trembling and whimpering. I ran up with relief running through my veins. I tried to move her into the back seat of my Honda Civic, but she was stiff and not much help. I enlisted the help of Trina who had been sitting in my front seat, too scared to venture out with Yasmine and I. Trina had been so horrified that she had covered herself with my backpack and a few loose clothing items I had in my backseat. Trina and I hoisted Yasmine up onto her feet and dragged her to my back door, where we were then able to shove her onto her side in the back seat. Trina and I, out of breath, scurried to the front of the car and got in only to find that my car keys were missing. They must have fallen out of my pocket when I was rolling down the hill into the small stream below. I looked over and Trina with absolute dread in my eyes. 

“You’d be crazy if you think I’m going in there,” she said with certainty. 

We compromised that Trina would stay back with Yasmine who was now twitching and mumbling that she wanted to go home and I would be forced to trace back my steps. I did a small prayer to myself and grabbed the few crystals I had in my car (desperate times call for desperate measures) and said my last goodbyes to my friends. I cautiously opened my door, with a tear in my eye and an ache in my soul. I figured if I went fast enough and focused on what I needed to find, that any harm would be minimal to none. Before I could arrive at the same clearing that took Yasmine, a scrawny, frigid, little raccoon with one eye creeping over to me-with my keys in its mouth. 

“Here little raccoon,” I said, “drop the keys and no one gets hurt.”

 To my surprise he complied, the pain must’ve shown across my face. I scooped up the keys and gave the raccoon a soft pat as I went on my way. When I made it back to my car for the second time, my gas light had turned on, meaning we had to book it to a gas station before we were stuck there forever. I was sure to lock the doors and get on our way before anything more could be done. 

The great news about this story is that we all made it to the gas station and home alive. My overall rating for this trip would be a solid 6.5/10. If you’re looking for some raw, spooky entertainment, then this is your place! Just be sure to hold your friends close and your car keys closer.