Weekly Yuputka: The Girl on the Dirt Road

Yuputka (n.): the phantom sensation of something crawling on your skin. 


During Jezebel’s 2012 Scary Story Contest, a user shared her haunting experience of being lost at night in the rural South as a young girl. She stumbled across an old shack and met a little girl that helped her find her way home. Who was this young hero and what was her story?

Untitled, from user NotScared

Alright, I have one that’s kinda freaky, but in a good way, I guess. For me, at least. So when I was a kid, we moved into this house that was literally in the middle of nowhere. There were maybe five houses one the street, generously spread over about twoish miles. Cows regularly wandered into our yard from a farm on the other end of our five acre property. We were the last house on the street. Other then the farm on one side, the street out front, we were surrounded by undeveloped woods. Being a curious child, I would often wander into the wooded area, playing various games, pretending I was an Elvish Ranger or a Lady Knight. Once, while pretending to be an intrepid explorer lost on an alien planet, I managed to wander farther into the wooded area then usual. I wasn’t worried, it was only a little ways back that aways to my house….wasn’t it? Nope. So, I walked and walked and walked, trying to find something that looked like civilation. Eventually, I did. It should be noted that this was just about the time the sun was officially down and I was freaking out. The house I found was a little more then an old shack, but when I knocked on the door, a black girl a bit older then me answered the door. She was dressed in a ragged blue dress and barefoot, which was something that didn’t strike me as odd then, because it’s the South. I spent most of my child hood without shoes. I told her I was sorry to bother her, but I was lost and I was scared and I just wanted to go home. It should be pointed out that I started crying, at this point. The girl smiled, told me it was alright and yelled back into the house that “This girl got herself lost, mama, I’m gonna take her to the road and show her the way.”

She took me by the hand and lead me out to the dirt road that I would swear wasn’t there before. We walked down this dirt road for what seemed like for ever.

“You scared?” She asked me.

“Yeah.” I said, sniffing and shivering. It was cold out, but she didn’t seem to care.

“Don’t be. You’ll get home. Just stay on the road.”

Eventually, we came to the end of the dirt road and we to the asphalt. The girl told to walk that way down the road and I’d be home in no time. I begged her to go with me, but she said she couldn’t go off the dirt road.

So I walked by myself down the road. When I looked back, I couldn’t see her anymore. It was well and truly dark by now, and absolutely freezing. After about five minutes of walking, A cop car came up behind me. The officer who came up behind me said that they had been looking for me all day, was I alright?

Turns out, I had some how wandered nearly five miles from my house, managing to completely miss the various houses and churches whose back yards I was literally walking through. When I told my parents about the little girl who had shown me back to the road, they wanted to go out to the house and thank the family and the little girl for their help, but we couldn’t find the dirt road. Eventually I decided that it must be the overgrown path and dragged my parents down it. We found the shack, but it was empty.

Eventually my parents decided that I must have been mistaken and to give up the search. But I was sure that this was the place. Years later, when I was in middle school, I was helping out at the library, reordering the old newspaper articles, I found one from the fifties. Nothing big, just a tiny obituary of a girl named Maggy. She was killed by a hit and run driver on the road I was walking on when I was found by the police, just as she was walking off the dirt road to her house.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s