History Articles and Blog Kloe Gentry 2019 © Onceinabluesun.com

  • Kloe Gentry

God is watching

The thing I like most about being a truck driver is the peace and quiet. I mean sure, sometimes some assholes (mostly the hummers) will beep at you for going 70 on a 75, but mostly it’s just you, the radio and the road.

As for my job, it’s pretty simple-


Drive to the warehouse.

Load the shit in the truck.

Drive halfway across the state to another warehouse.

Unload the shit from the truck.

Rinse and repeat.


Oh and in case you’re thinking that whatever it is I’m carrying is the point of the story, it’s not. I just call it shit cause it smells like shit. Or maybe it’s actually the truck that smells like shit? Either way it doesn’t matter. I drive beer. Plain old beer. Personally I hate it, tastes like shit.


Anyways I’ve been doing the job long enough that it’s become sort of automatic. I know the I-70 like I know the back of my hand. Driving through rural Kansas, you don’t see a lot of stuff, mostly just pastures and fields and the occasional farmhouse. It’s kind of beautiful, in it’s own way. Especially at night with all the stars.

Next to one of these fields there’s a sinister looking billboard I always pass by. It’s short and rusty, and there’s no ladder on it. I don’t know how it passed state regulations, but I don’t think it was made by the state anyway. There’s plain white text on the billboard, it says:

“God is watching. 300 feet


But if you looked to where the arrow pointed, there is nothing but an empty soil field. I thought like maybe they planned to build a church exactly there or there used to be a church there and it got demolished or some other strange cultish shit. It wasn’t really something I cared about.


But one day I felt an urgency in my bladder and pulled out to the side of the road for relief. And while I was peeing, I noticed I was under the billboard so I thought, “eh, why not?” and started walking across the field, hoping to find a satisfying explanation.


While I walked, the ambience around me became more and more unsettlingly quiet, like someone was turning off it’s volume. Soon the only thing I could hear was my feet against the soil. But the soil itself felt texture less. I looked back, and my truck was only a few dozen steps away. I kept walking on, even though I felt I shouldn’t. The glaring sun blinded me, there was something in the distance. I drew closer and closer.


And then I froze.


I could make out a figure- a man or a women, or something in between. It was naked, it’s skin unbelievably bright. And even though I couldn’t see it’s eyes I knew it was staring right back at me.


“Hello?” I shouted.


No response.


I could see my truck 150 feet away. I started fast-tracking back. I turned my head around and the creature was still standing there, staring at me. I panicked and made a run for it. But I realized to my horror that no matter how much I ran the truck seemed to remain at the same distance. It was like the ground was stretching beneath me.

It was so utterly terrifying. I collapsed on the soil and begged to die so I wouldn’t have to feel this afraid anymore. The creature was closer now, and he was so bright it hurt to look at him. He was human and not human at the same time. I can’t explain it, it was surreal.


I felt his whiteness wash over me, and then I faded away.


The next thing I knew I was lying on the road next to my truck. The field was still there, but the billboard was gone. I didn’t waste a second climbing into my truck and speeding the hell out of there. I’ve never been back on the I-70 and I’ve never stopped in the middle of the road since. It’s peeing in plastic bottles and gas stations from now on.

I don’t know if what I saw was god, or what the hell any of this meant, but I carry a cross and a bible with me now just in case. Just recalling the whole thing gives me shudders. This is probably the first and last time I’m going to talk about it. And I don’t think you’re going to believe me anyways.

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