The Pointing Phantom

Let me tell you something that still messes with my head. A few months ago I was driving home

late — that dead-quiet hour where the road looks empty for miles. I came around a

bend and saw a man standing right in the center of the lane, facing away from

me. Not moving. Not reacting. Just… standing there. I slammed on the

brakes and rolled my window down a crack, asked if he was okay.

He didn’t answer — but he slowly lifted one arm and pointed into the woods.

Not waving for help… just pointing. Something in my gut told me not to get out.

So I eased around him and kept driving, watching him in my mirror. And that’s when