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I was panting when I reached the bridge. Ray had dragged himself to his car and was lying on his stomach. I turned him around and slapped him repeatedly calling his name, he was fast asleep. I had to shout to wake him up. "Damn! Ray, lets get out of here fast", I said while I hauled him into the car. He murmured something which I didn't pay attention to.

That evening Ray had picked me at 8 and drove into the woods with a stockpile of booze in his car. He wanted me to see this house on the river which the legend had that it was haunted. He was super excited, I had not seen him so hearty... all along he kept yapping and I listened while we drank. He planned to camp in the house to get the "chill".

I started "STEF"; that what he fondly called his beat up car. It was his mother’s, she died of some unknown illness when he was just six. I drove full throttle towards home. Their was not a soul around and the night was strangely eerie. I could feel heaviness in the air.

I missed to tell you we never reached the haunted house – Ray couldn’t remember the way to the house and drove around aimlessly feeling frustrated. He guzzled pint after pint and then braked suddenly near to the bridge. He was high and wanted to be a daredevil, he rushed out and I followed. It didn't took him long to decide to jump; he jumped shouting obscenities. I dithered and chickened out.

We had barely made a mile and all of a sudden "STEF" was hit by something. "STEF" careened to the left, I jammed on the breaks and "STEF" turned turtle.