If someone had told me this tale, I doubt I would have taken it seriously, but it happened to my brother, Matthew, and his wife, Grace. They were heading home after celebrating my granddads birthday in a little village in Yorkshire. It was early eveningseven oclock or soand they were driving along the motorway. Suddenly, a young woman appeared in the middle of the road, frantically waving her arms, desperate for them to stop.
Grace begged Matthew not to pull over, warning him that it might be dangerous. But Matthew slowed down, his curiosity and concern getting the better of him. The girls face was covered with scrapes and bruises, and she was visibly shaken.
Between choking sobs, she explained that she and her family had crashedtheir car had veered off the road and tumbled into a nearby ditch. Her husband was gone, she said, but their child survived. She pleaded with my brother to help save her boy. Pointing towards the wreckage, she guided him.
Matthew told the woman to stay with Grace and hurried to the site of the accident. Down the embankment, he discovered their car lying in the shadows. He scrambled in, barely pausing, and pulled a small boyabout sixfrom the back seat.
When Matthew returned to his own car, the young woman was nowhere to be found. Perplexed, he asked Grace where shed gone. Grace just shook her head and said the woman had followed him back to the accident. With a knot in his stomach, Matthew trekked back to the crashed vehicle.
For the first time, he noticed two bodies in the front seatsa man behind the wheel and a woman beside him, both unmistakably dead. He was left stunned: How could she have begged him for help on the road? Matthews skin prickled with chills as the realisation hit him.
The boy they rescued now lives with Matthew and Gracetheyve adopted him as their own. My brother remains convinced they were spoken to by a ghost that night.
