My sister and I were driving down the motorway when a man appeared right in the middle of the road. I slammed on the brakes, and he began walking slowly toward the car, holding something in his hands…
We were on our way to visit our parents—they live a few hours away in Devon. I was behind the wheel, my sister beside me. We chatted about weekend plans, the radio humming softly in the background—just an ordinary journey.
Then, out of nowhere… there he was. A man, motionless, standing alone in the middle of the A30.
He looked about thirty, just… standing there, his back to us, as if waiting. I jerked the car to a stop, barely avoiding him. We stared, bewildered.
The man turned, slowly. His eyes locked onto ours… and he smiled. But it wasn’t warm or friendly. There was something unsettling, almost menacing, in that grin.
Instinct kicked in. I hit the door locks and grabbed my phone, ready to dial 999. He kept walking toward us, never breaking eye contact, that eerie smile still fixed on his face. The road was empty—just us and him.
Then my sister whispered, voice shaking:
«Look… in his hand…»
I looked—and froze.
Clutched in his grip was… 😱😱 (Continued in the comments 👇👇)
A woman’s handbag.
He reached my window and motioned for me to roll it down. I didn’t.
«What do you want?» My voice wavered.
«Found this,» he said, calm as anything. «Yours?»
«Is he joking?» my sister hissed. «What handbag? How could it be ours?»
«No,» I snapped, then floored the accelerator. We sped off without another glance.
Ladies, please—be careful.
I dread to think what might’ve happened if I’d rolled that window down. Or hesitated. Someone else might’ve thought, *What if it really is hers?* Or been too polite to drive away. But you *mustn’t* second-guess yourself with strangers.
Even if he *had* just wanted to return the bag—why stand in the middle of the motorway? How did he know who’d be in the car? Why stare like that?
Too many questions.
And the answers? Terrifying. The world’s just… like that sometimes.