True Scary Stories The Haunting Beneath the Highways

True Scary Stories The Haunting Beneath the Highways

Real Paranormal Encounters Across Texas

True Paranormal Encounters Across Texas

People like to say Texas highways never really sleep. There’s always motion out there engines humming, tires scraping asphalt, the constant pulse of people on the move. I used to like that sound. It felt alive somehow. Steady. Safe. Then I started driving nights, and I learned there are things on those roads that don’t belong to this world. Things that move beneath the concrete, not on it.

The First Time I Saw It

Back in 2016, I was running freight from Dallas to El Paso long, lonely drives across dark stretches of desert highway. You get used to it after a while. The flat miles blur together, light from the occasional gas station breaking up the dark every fifty miles or so. Somewhere near Midland, I pulled off under an overpass to tighten a loose strap. It was one of those quiet nights where the air feels heavier than usual. I remember hearing this dripping sound. Slow and steady, like water falling from a leaky faucet. But there was no water anywhere. Just dirt, graffiti, and the sound of my own breathing. Then came this dragging noise. Faint but wrong like something dragging itself through soil. I turned my flashlight toward one of the pillars, and that’s when I saw it. Or rather, its reflection. In the chrome bumper of my truck, I caught sight of a pale, twisted hand pressing up from the dirt. By the time I turned around, it was gone. The ground looked undisturbed. I didn’t check again. Just got behind the wheel and drove until the horizon changed color.

Other Drivers Had Their Own Stories

After that night, I started paying attention. Turns out, I wasn’t alone. A lot of long-haul drivers talk about strange things on the road, especially under overpasses and highways cutting through empty parts of the state. Some see flashing lights or ghostly figures in the mirrors. Others say they hear knocking under their rigs while crossing certain overpasses. One driver I met at a truck stop outside Waco told me about a woman under a bridge near Abilene. Said she was waving for help, wearing a reflective vest. When he pulled over, nobody was there. But when he checked his trailer later, there were muddy handprints all over it as if someone had been clinging to the back for miles. These stories pile up, one after another, until they start to feel connected like there’s something under there. Something that’s been trying to crawl out for a long time.

The One Buried Beneath Loop 635

In 2022, I stopped hauling across state lines and moved near Dallas. I figured being a local driver would give me some peace of mind. But that’s when I learned about the man who died building Loop 635 years ago. According to local news clippings, a construction worker was crushed under a column during a late pour. The site foreman said the ground kept sinking afterward, as if it wouldn’t let go of whatever was buried down there. Folks around there swear that if you sit under that highway during rain, you’ll hear tapping on your roof slow, steady taps, like knuckles on metal. One icy night, I decided to see for myself. Probably stupid, but curiosity does that to you. I parked under the overpass and shut off my truck. Everything went still. The only light came from the glow of the dashboard fading out. Then I heard it. Tap. Tap. Tap. The sound was close. Too close. Before I could even move, something brushed across my windshield like a smudge forming from inside the glass. I turned the key and floored it out of there. When I made it home, I noticed something strange: faint fingerprints on the inside of my headlights.

They’re Still There

Ever since that night, I can’t drive under a highway without watching the ground. The shadows move differently now not like wind or headlights. More deliberate. Like something crawling just under the surface. Texas is covered in forgotten tunnels and drainage routes from old highway projects. Miles of them. I think whatever they trapped down there never really stayed still. These days, ghost hunters sometimes livestream their explorations under bridges across the state. They pick up voices through EVP recorders, saying things like “Let us out,” or worse, “We’re still working.” I don’t need recordings to believe them. I’ve heard it myself. Once you hear that voice under the concrete, you don’t forget it.