WELCOME to Haunted Wirral, a feature series written by world-famous psychic researcher, Tom Slemen for the Globe.
One day during the long, hot summer of 2001, Jack, 29 and from New Brighton, sat waiting at the traffic lights in his battered old Skoda.
In the lane beside him gleamed a burnished silver Lexus IS200 — the car of his dreams.
Jack wound down the driver's window to let some air into the sweltering interior. The young, shaven-headed man in the Lexus turned and smiled condescendingly, casting a dismissive glance at the Skoda.
'He can't be more than twenty-five,' Jack thought, doing his best to ignore the other driver.
His jealousy flared as he imagined the luxurious interior of the Lexus, no doubt equipped with climate control.
As Jack simmered in resentment, two blonde women crossed the road, their colourful outfits catching the attention of both drivers.
They slowed their pace, smiling flirtatiously at the man in the Lexus. Jack felt a surge of envy, aware that his feelings were petty but unable to quell them.
The traffic lights changed and before Jack could even engage first gear the Lexus was already tearing down Manor Road, leaving him behind.
When Jack arrived home, he vented his frustrations to Heather, his girlfriend. 'We can barely make ends meet as it is,’ he complained, flopping into an armchair. '‘How are we ever supposed to afford anything decent? People like that guy with the Lexus . . . they don’t have a care in the world.'
Heather was taken aback. Jack was not usually one to grumble about life. Sensing his insecurity, she leaned over him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Her lips brushed against his neck.
‘I’ve got you, and that’s more important than money,’ she whispered.
Jack sighed and, pulling away from her embrace, stood up and walked to the window. Across the street, their neighbour was parking her brand-new Rover saloon. Jack shook his head.
‘I feel like such a failure, Heather,’ he admitted.
Heather promised that once she finished her degree, she would get a job and buy him a car.
But Jack found little solace in her words. ‘It’s not about that,’ he said. ‘I don’t want you buying me anything. I just want something better than pulling pints and clearing up after drunks.
'I’m sick of the same old stories, the stale jukebox songs, and being surrounded by smoke all day.’
By six o’clock that evening, Jack’s mood had improved and he apologised to Heather for his outburst.
'You’re right,' he admitted. 'Money isn’t everything.'
He cooked dinner for the two of them and they spent the evening cuddled on the sofa, watching Heather’s favourite soap opera.
'Do you fancy going to Wales tomorrow?' Jack asked suddenly. 'It’s my day off.'
'Yeah, okay, babe,' Heather replied, leaning in to kiss him.
That night, after returning from his shift at the pub, Jack hugged his girlfriend and they went to bed. She fell asleep in his arms, and Jack felt a deep sense of contentment.
Despite the challenges they faced, he knew he was lucky to have her. She was stoically putting up with his mood-swings all the time.
But Jack’s peace was short-lived. Moments after falling asleep, he was plunged into one of the most terrifying nightmares he had ever experienced.
The dream began on a sun-dappled country lane. Jack was driving a car — not his Skoda, but the Lexus he had envied earlier that day.
Heather sat beside him, looking radiant and proud. The road stretched endlessly ahead, and Jack, caught up in the thrill, pressed the accelerator.
The car surged forward, the trees at the roadside becoming a green blur. The speedometer climbed to 130 miles per hour, and Jack felt a rush of adrenaline.
Then he saw it.
At the end of the road, an enormous skull loomed, its cavernous mouth forming an arched tunnel. Above it, the eye sockets glowed with an eerie green light. The car hurtled towards the gaping maw.
‘Slow down!’ Heather screamed, her voice tinged with panic.
Jack slammed on the brakes, but the tyres screeched ineffectively. The Lexus was unstoppable. The tunnel’s fleshy red interior engulfed them, and Jack woke with a shout, drenched in sweat.
Heather stirred beside him. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked groggily.
Jack recounted the nightmare, his voice trembling. Heather held him close until he eventually drifted back to sleep.
The following morning, the couple set off for a picnic in Wales. It was a sunny Sunday, and the roads were pleasantly quiet. The Skoda meandered along the rural lanes near Llangollen as Jack pointed out the ruins of a 13th-century castle atop a hill.
Seven miles from their destination, Jack noticed a familiar car approaching. His stomach tightened. It was the same Lexus he had seen the day before. The young driver smirked as he slowly overtook the Skoda.
Then Jack saw something that froze his blood.
In the passenger seat of the Lexus sat a hooded figure, its skeletal face obscured by the deep cowl of a monk's robe.
Beneath the hood, a grey skull gleamed, its hollow eye sockets radiating a sinister energy.
The skeletal figure turned its head towards Jack and made a slow, deliberate gesture, raising and lowering its right arm as though signalling him to slow down.
Jack instinctively hit the brakes, bringing the Skoda to an abrupt halt. Heather clutched the dashboard in alarm.
‘What are you doing?’ she cried.
Jack, pale and shaken, tried to explain what he had seen, but Heather dismissed his account, growing increasingly concerned that he might be unwell.
Reluctantly, Jack resumed driving, his mind racing. Minutes later, as they rounded a sharp bend, they were met with a horrifying sight.
The Lexus lay crumpled against a stone wall, its sleek lines mangled beyond recognition.
Jack leapt out of the Skoda and ran to the wreckage. The driver was slumped lifelessly against the seat, his body pinned by the twisted metal. It was clear he had been killed on impact.
But the passenger seat was empty.
Jack's thoughts returned to the skeletal figure.
Had it been real? Or had he imagined the entire thing? The grim conclusion was inescapable: the hooded figure had been a harbinger of death, a warning Jack could not ignore.
Shaken to his core, Jack returned to the car. He said little for the rest of the day, but the experience left a lasting impression.
From that moment on, Jack never envied people in flashy, expensive cars again.
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