Halloween Special: Terror In A Transit Van aka The Night We Saw 'Grann – revoltinggirls.com

Halloween Special: Terror In A Transit Van aka The Night We Saw 'Granny Death'

Over on Twitter, I read a couple of threads about people's terrifying experiences cos other people's terrifying trauma is always fun to read about huh?!

You might have read them too...You know the one about the eyes looking through the A/C vent in the ceiling?


Anyway, those thread've inspired me to share my one and only seriously shit scary experience; like, I don't believe in anything supernatural...no god, no ghosts, none of that spooky stuff but if ever there was an experience that I just could not explain, it was this one.

Right here goes.

I swear this is all true.

My boyfriend has been in several bands over the years but not long after we first moved to Cavan, he would spend many an evening at the house of a friend of ours. This friend had (and still has) a music recording studio; he's one of those sickeningly talented people so himself and himself would spend their evenings doing musiciany stuff. Sometimes I would go with him, the night that this account begins, I had stayed at home.

It must've been a Friday night when Pedro went over to our friends house cos he didn't come home til the early hours of Saturday morning and when he did eventually get into bed he was absolutely boiling with anger; as he'd been driving home along the pitch black country lanes (pitch black apart from his van lights of course), a woman had been out in the road walking her dogs.

Like, in the middle of the road.

In the middle of the night.

He'd got such a shock at seeing her there, he'd had to stop quickly and felt jittery all the way home after. Stupid bloody woman.

I asked him what kind of dogs did she have cos that was clearly an important question to ask. He didn't know, he hadn't seen them. He was so cross he just drove on past and home.

Anyway, the next evening Pedro wanted to go over to the studio again and not wanting to be left at home watching shit Saturday night telly, I went with him. We were there for a few hours, and decided to set off for home about 11.30ish, again down the pitch black country lanes.

As we drove back, Pedro said he'd show me where that stupid bloody woman from last night had been.

I'd never believe it.

Could I imagine walking dogs at that time of night, in the pitch black?!

As we neared the spot in the road, Pedro slowed the van and I looked out of my passenger side window...on my side of the road was a small cottage, slightly back off the road and in front of it, between the cottage wall and me sitting in the van, was a very small woman dressed in what looked to be an old dressing gown and some kind of blond plastic wig. She was stood sideways and as still as a statue, looking down into a bucket. Since we had approached from behind her, and she had her head down, I couldn't see her face...any part that I might have been able to see was covered by her very weird hair.

You know those Girl's World dolls, with the terrible plastic hair that gets all knotted? Her hair was just like that; same bushyness, same fake shine, same shape.

Bearing in mind it would have been completely pitch black before we approached with our full beam headlights, she wasn't startled by the van. She literally didn't move. Not an inch. Not half an inch. She just kept staring into the bucket.

We both "What the fuck?!"ed, but drove on a little bit before Pedro said he'd turn around so we could get a better look and see what was going on, obviously assuming that if we approached her face on this time, the lights would encourage a response and we'd at least be able to see her face.

So, we turned around at the next crossing point, headed back towards the old woman and fuck me, hadn't she turned around?!

Like, literally turned around.

You know how a child might life up a Sylvanian Family figure, turn it 180 and plonk it back down? It was like that.

The position of her limbs and her head was exactly the same as before. Exactly.

Hands by her sides, head down and looking into the bucket. Motionless. Her plastic looking hair still very plastic looking. 

THIS WAS TOO WEIRD and we both said as much but now, of course we were driving the wrong way and would have to turn around again to get going the right way home.

I'm a total wimp; it was pitch black, in the middle of nowhere and I was not happy. I'm not ashamed to admit that I may have even been crying.

So, we found a bit of the lane we could turn in and headed back the way we had come. If she's still there, we said, it would just be too weird and we'd have to do something.


She was still there.


Still the same position.

Still the same weird hair.

Still staring in the bucket...but with her back to us again.

She had 180'd around again, exactly as she had before so now were approaching her back. Again.

Pedro suggested he stop the van and shout out of the window to check everything was ok, but since the window nearest her was my one and I was now in desperate need of the toilet, I told he'd better flipping not stop and so he didn't. 

And that was the night we talk about often and wonder what the bloody hell was going on.


The end.

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