Appodchape Production.
Welcome back to The Chills, the Spooky Story Podcast. It's hard to believe unless, of course, it happened to you. Here's a story from Maria, who didn't want to appear on the show. Now. I don't know if it's because the story is completely made up, although she doesn't want to bring back the bad juju. Either way. When we read this story, it gave us the chills. If you've got a story that can do the same, email us at the Chills at podshape dot com to read Maria's email.
We've used a voice actor in some parts to help us out. So let's start Maria's spooky story. Maria was riding her motorbike home from a friend's place near Gimpi, which is near the Sunshine Coast in Queensland. Her ride was about thirty five minutes back to her house near the coast. It was nearly midnight and a friend said that she could stay if she wanted. But there was one thing that Maria really really wanted.
I just wanted to sleep in my own bed. I hate sleeping anywhere that's not my house.
Maria said. It was one of those nights where everything just felt a little off. The roads were quiet, too quiet, and the cold seemed to cut right through her, which is a bit odd for Queensland.
The drive was long, and the road wound through bushland that seemed to go on forever. Every now and then I'd catch a glimpse of a kangaroo or a possum in my headlights, but mostly it was just me and my bike. After what felt like ages, I came up to a bridge. It's an old iron bridge and locals always have stories about it, how it creaks and groans, and how people have had strange experiences there.
The area Maria was riding through was pitch black except for one flickering street light the start of a bridge. I know this sounds like a scary movie. It cast these long, creepy shadows that made everything look a bit distorted.
As I got closer, I noticed an old man standing under the light. He looked a bit rough, with worn out clothes and a leather bag. He waved me down, asking if I could give him a lift. He said he'd missed the last bus to Kilkevan and was stranded. It was cold and he seemed desperate, so I told him to hop on the back of my bike. When he climbed on, he put his hand on my shoulder. It was surprisingly strong, almost like he was holding on for dear life.
So Maria takes off on a bike with a stranger on the back. It's the middle of the night and it's dark. I mean, I wouldn't pick him up, but Maria did so good on her That's when things get a little spookier.
As we reached the other side of the bridge. I suddenly remembered that I had my phone and purse in my backpack. I started to worry, what if this guy tried something. I decided to slow down and move my backpack to the front. But when I reached back, I froze. The guy was gone, but I could still feel his hand on my shoulder, cold and heavy. My heart was racing, and I didn't dare look back. I just kept driving faster and faster, as if I could outrun the fear that was gripping me.
Yeah, I've definitely got the chills. I think I now know why Maria didn't want to relive the story again. Let's join her back on her bike alone, except of course, for the feeling of a man's hand on her shoulder cold and heavy. Maria keeps riding. She said she saw some lights up ahead. It's a small town near Pomona, where she'd been a bunch of times as a kid. She pulled up to the first shop and jumped off a bike. As she spun around. There was no one there.
The weird thing was the cold feeling on my shoulder, lingered, like something had really been there. I went into the shop feeling shaky and probably looking a bit freaked out. The shopkeeper gave me a concerned look, but I just mumbled something about needing to use the phone. I called my friend back in GIMPI, trying to make sense of what just happened. When I told them, they went quiet. Then they told me something that made my skin crawl. Apparently, years ago, an old man was hit by a car
on that same bridge. He'd been walking home late one night, and the driver was never found. Ever since, people have claimed to see his ghost asking for a ride and then disappearing when they crossed the bridge. I didn't stick around after that. I got back on my bike and headed straight home. These days, I avoid that bridge whenever I can, and if I ever see someone standing by the road, late at night, I remember that icy hand on my shoulder and I just keep riding.
If you've got a story that can give us the chills, and send it in the chills at podshak dot com. See you next time.