I feel like it is a long time since I posted anything from my ‘German Ghost Story’. Whether it be called ‘Words from Beyond’, ‘Stop Talking to Me’ or ‘Russian Roulette’, here is an update. Sheila had a bad day at work!
It was only a short drive to 19 Field Regiment, where Les worked, but it was an interesting one because I had to do a ‘U’ turn in the infamous kamikaze junction.
Let me explain. The road I was driving on was the B1 and a major autobahn that went right through Dortmund. It allowed three lanes of traffic to go in either direction. That meant six lanes of traffic, fairly normal right? The six lanes of traffic were divided by two tramlines, which ran down the center, still manageable right? To make my ‘U’ turn at kamikaze junction I had to manipulate a crossroads consisting of nine lanes of traffic, travelling in four directions and crossed by two lanes of trams. The trams stopped for nothing or no one. I lived in Germany at least two months before I would even attempt this maneuver. Some of my friends were to timid to attempt this maneuver and drove for miles out of their way to avoid crossing kamikaze junction. I had a few near misses there myself. Luckily for me, on this particular day, I crossed with no problem. Maybe my guardian angel was looking out for me (I will tell you about her later). People had been killed on kamikaze junction. It was a horrible place.
Les was waiting for me when and I got to camp. Before he could open the passenger door I got out of the driver’s seat and into the passenger side, no more driving for me. My day was done! He was always frustrated when I did this because he had to move the seat and adjust the mirrors, as he was so much taller than me. The look on my face must have told him not to make a big deal of it that night, because he didn’t say a word. As we drove home I started to cry softly, not really sure why, I just felt very emotional. Les didn’t say anything until we got home and sat down to dinner.
“OK what’s wrong?” he asked.
I told him everything that had happened that day, from the graffiti all over my lovely yellow van, to the nasty smelling Russian that had been tormenting and threatening me as I tried to drive. He said nothing at first, then after a while, when he had time to digest everything, he asked.
“Was this man real or one of your visitors?”
To read my novella’s check the links below:
- Free e-book (Smashwords)
- Girl on the Beach (UK)
- Girl on the Beach (US)
- Guy at the Bar (Smashwords)
- Guy at the Bar Amazon
- Guy at the Bar Amazon UK