Three

It was getting late when the operator’s phone rang.

“I’d like a taxi to 2 Slaughteryard road” said the cold strangers voice on the other end of the phone.
“Certainly, and for how many people will that be?”
“Just one.”
“OK a taxi will be with you shortly sir.”

An hour or so had passed when the phone rang again.

“The taxi I ordered before never arrived.”
“We are sorry for the inconvenience Sir; it should have been there by now. Another will be sent straight away, is it just for one person again?”
“No, this time there are two people.”

The operator hung up the phone, dispatched a second taxi, then tried to contact the first driver. His phone was dead. As the night crept on she was wondering what had happened to him, when suddenly the phone rang for the third time that night.

“The taxi has still not arrived,” Stated the same emotionless voice.
“Are you sure you have given the right address? The second taxi was dispatched a long time ago.”
“Yes.” 
Suddenly a sense of dread crept over her, as she dared to ask, “And how many people is there, Sir?”
“Three.”


Plus One

I was leading a group of 20 teenagers through the woods on a self-discovery expedition. These kids had horrible upbringings and it was important they still had a chance to learn important skills and values in life to give them any sort of hope in making it far as adults.

After a solid day of hiking, large climbs and testing terrain, we found a clearing to set up camp for the night, so we pitched our tents. We gathered some wood and made a fire as it was getting dark now, then sat around and ate dinner while I told encouraging stories of how there were many obstacles we had overcome that day and how we all made it through despite the challenges.

I had to perform a head count each night to ensure we hadn’t lost anyone along the way. I counted every last person. Then I double checked and triple checked. It didn’t make any sense. 21 people.

There was a very simple explanation to this. There was simply a miscount at the beginning. Human error happens right? That’s what I’ll tell myself so I can get some sleep tonight. A far more disturbing thought however,  as I lie in my tent and hear the snapping of twigs from footsteps outside in the darkness, is that one person among us tonight, was never there to begin with.

The 17th

I met a lot of people on my travels in ‘96, but there was one encounter I will never forget. On the 15th, I arrived at the airport ready to fly home after my holiday, when I saw a short old man in a black hat and coat sitting alone by the check-in counter. He looked as if he’d been crying. I approached him politely and asked if everything was OK. He explained to me that his wife was dying in hospital and they didn’t know how much longer she had. He was unable to get on the next flight as they were all booked out for the next 2 days – until the 17th.  I offered my deepest sympathy and he asked me where I was headed. I was on the next flight at 2pm to London. He looked extremely saddened by this news. That’s where his wife was.

Since I was in no real rush to get home, and there were still a few more sites I had kind of wanted to see, I decided on an act of kindness that would grant me good karma for a lifetime. I offered to swap him my flight ticket, if he were willing to pay for my flight 2 days later. The look in his eyes made it all worthwhile. We transferred the details on the booking over to his name. I remember they only changed the name on the booking, not my address or my date of birth, but this never crossed my mind as an issue. I farewelled the old man as he scurried off towards the departure gate.

I spent the next 2 days of my holiday seeing everything else I had wanted to see and on the 17th I caught the train to the airport to leave for home. Just my luck, there was a massive delay that day because of a suicide on the tracks. After being stuck in the carriage for 30 minutes, I knew I was going to miss my flight.

I eventually made a new booking, and got a flight home 2 days later, this time with no problems. I returned home that night, opened my front door and turned the light on to find everything as I left it. Everything that is, except for one small detail that scared the life out of me. On the living room chair I found a newspaper and a large knife. The newspaper was dated the 17th. I hadn’t told anyone I was supposed to be returning on that day. 

The Visitor

Dad abandoned us when I was young. Mum was an alcoholic. It was just the two of us together in the big old empty house her parents left for us after they passed. 

Mum spent most of her time on the porch drinking wine. She didn’t have a job anymore, but insisted we were fine for money whenever I offered to get a part time job; even though I was old enough to work now. 

I spent my days running around chasing my wild imagination and sometimes it was hard to keep up. The house was so huge and empty, I could play in a new room each day and never get bored. It was an old 18th century building full of history. There were these huge golden framed mirrors all over the house… and because of the sheer size of it… any sound from the drop of the pin would leave an echoing ring through its halls.

After time, when you’re always alone, it could become a problem. I grew so lonely, and started to become quite different from other girls my age. I would create all these fantasies in my head that would soon become reality. A young girl that had no touch with the outside world; I really, really just needed a real friend. 

Then one day, as if prompted, it all changed. I was walking past the large front door of our house, and stopped as I noticed something out the corner of my eye. I turned to face the door. It was a young girl, looking in. A visitor! A friend!

I remember the first time I saw her, standing there through the glass pane door. She looked a bit like me, perhaps a bit older. Everything I wanted in a friend!

Her name was Donna, and I invited her into the house to play. Into my world.

Donna was one of those people who didn’t really say much. She only really spoke when I started a conversation and she always agreed with me. Maybe she was shy. There were traits to her as well that struck me as odd. I will never forget her eyes, or her gaze for that matter. She would never break it if you looked at her; I never once recalled seeing her blink… I never knew much about her life or family; just that I needed her. And within no time, I felt like I could relate to her so much. That was at first anyway. 

After a while I started to notice just how different she was from the few people I had met before. I couldn’t put my finger on it. She started to visit often, perhaps a little too often. Sometimes it was as if she was appearing out of nowhere. I began to grow concern with her visits. I would catch her out of the corner of my eye, standing in my house, watching me… I tried to tell her she couldn’t just do that, she needed to knock and ask to come inside as it was rude to invite yourself into someone else’s house, but I don’t think she ever really understood. She would just repeat what I said and stare back at me with that petrifying gaze… It seemed worse when I was home alone too. Anything could’ve happened to me… But it didn’t. Not yet anyway. 

And after a while I began to grow worried by her intentions. I felt I could no longer trust her. That’s when I decided to ask mum about Donna. Mum claimed that she had never seen her. That was strange. She was always drunk though, I thought, so it slipped my mind. 

By now I was seeing her everywhere. Every corner I turned. Every hallway. There she was, following me and watching my every move. I had gone from wanting company so desperately to just wanting to be alone. I didn’t feel safe anymore. I needed her to just leave! I stopped speaking to her entirely.

This continued right up until one morning when there was a terrible earthquake. We lived in a region that was prone to seismic activities, but I had never seen one like this before. It was one of the largest in decades and the region was adversely affected. The entire house trembled like mad. Windows smashed, paintings and mirrors fell off the walls and the walls were creaking. Mum and I huddled under the shelter of her large four poster bed. As for Donna, well she was nowhere to be seen. I couldn’t be sure if she was visiting that day.

She stopped coming to visit after that. I had never known where exactly she lived, and I began to worry that she was okay after the earthquake. After all, she was still the only friend I had.

Days past without her visiting anymore and I slowly started to feel comfortable again at home… Some nights I swear I could still hear her as if she was calling out to me… She didn’t sound very happy. But I learned to ignore it. Our house was repaired a few days later. That’s when it happened. If only I could recall exactly what happened that night. 

The last thing I remember was walking into the kitchen late at night to get a glass of water. I took a drink from the fridge, filled up my cup and finished it quickly out of thirst. I walked over to the sink to rinse out the cup and I looked out the window. There she was. Right up against the glass, looking pale and lifeless gazing in at me from the outside. Her face looked dead. I dropped the glass, opened the drawer pulled out a large knife and ran for my life. I turned to look back and she was gone. I ran upstairs and locked myself in my room. I composed myself for a few moments, taking deep breaths.. That’s when I noticed she was already in my room, waiting for me… Also holding a knife. “What do you want!” I screamed, “MUM help me!”

She edged towards me slowly, and the haunting words she whispered from her pale cold lips “It will all be over soon” was the last thing I heard. 

Next thing I knew, I was opening my eyes in what seemed like a high security hospital. My room appeared to be padded and soundproof, similar to a mental institution. The room was exactly how they were depicted in movies I had seen before; cold steel and the colour white making up most of the room. I awoke in a daze but was comforted by the familiar sound of my mother’s voice greeting me from my side and calling the doctor. 

No one could explain the cuts on my body. It looked as though someone had tried to slice my chest open. The large gashes were stitched up, and I couldn’t feel any pain yet. When I asked how it happened, the doctor and my mother looked at each other with concern. I knew it was from trying to fend off an attack, but I they thought otherwise. Their eyes whispered to each other, “self inflicted.”

Mum recounted how she had heard me screaming in my room. She ran up and the door was locked so she kicked it in to find me on the floor frothing at the mouth and convulsing, in a pool of blood. 

It’s the first time shes gone a day without drinking she says. I guess I believe her. I questioned her who was there, but she looked saddened. Surely she had heard the other person, but mum said all she heard was my scream followed by its echo. The girl named Donna was nowhere to be seen. It was as if she was never there, or never even existed.

The doctor had performed some tests on me and was ready to deliver a prognosis. He wanted my mother to be present. The answers I needed were coming.

He claimed it was all in my head. I guess I went I had grown so lonely a replica of myself in the form of a friend manifested itself outside of me. I had really believed there was someone else there. The visions of her? It was simply me catching my own reflection, in the glass reflection and in the mirrors. Her voice? The echoing through the house. That’s why I never saw her after the earthquake. Most of the large mirrors had fallen down. 

Regardless, I could move on… It all made sense now. A sense of relief flooded over me. I may have gone mad, but at least I was safe from any real threat of this imaginary assailant.

I’m stuck in this hospital. Its hard to even remember what I look like anymore. There’s no mirrors in my room for a reason and the rooms soundproof – absolutely no echo. I’ve been here for a few days; they insist it’s for my own safety during this period. Mum is in the process of having all the mirrors removed from the house before I return home. 

“Sorry but we had better let you get some rest,” the doctor said, politely accompanying my mother out the door not before I kissed her goodbye. I was safe now. Everything was going to be OK  I’ve finally stopped believing in Donna. She wasn’t real. I drifted off to sleep alone. 

Not long later there was a knock on the door. A young looking female nurse entered the room and handed me a glass of water, I took it, gulped it down without question, and I immediately became light headed. “You have one last visitor today,” said the familiar voice. The glass slipped out of my hand and smashed on the floor. 

I struggled to roll my head on its side to look at the nurse as I began convulsing. There had to be some mistake. 

She was a young lady, who looked quite like me, perhaps a bit older. I managed to look into her eyes, as my vision started fading. A familiar, cruel gaze crossed her face. It couldn’t be… There were no mirrors in this room. “Donna” I whispered.

She edged towards me slowly, and the last words I heard were… “Don’t worry, it will all be over soon,” as she pulled out a large knife and her eyes darted towards my chest.

fyeahcreepyshit:

Stairs
In 1984, there lived an old widowed lady by herself in a two story house who was completely immobile and bound to her wheelchair. Ever since the mysterious death of her husband, she required the aid of a carer who would visit her daily to help her with everyday tasks. What made it even more difficult, was the fact that the two floors of the house were only connected by an old staircase inside. When the old lady needed to move between the two, the carer would have to carry her frail body like an infant, up and down the stairs. One day the police received a call from the widow. There had been a murder.
Since police units were scarce at the time, and the murderer had already fled the scene, only one detective was sent out to conduct the initial crime scene report. He arrived to see the carer’s body splayed out on the floor with her vocal chords ripped out in a pool of blood on the first level of the house, with the old lady atop the staircase in her wheelchair watching him, still and silently, seemingly in shock. He could immediately rule her out as a suspect, due to her inability to move up and down the stairs, and because she was trapped up there the time the murder took place. It was similar to the death of her husband many years ago, who had suffocated in his sleep on the couch downstairs.
The detective put on his gloves, took photos, swabbed for evidence, and covered the body until the coroner arrived later – all routine business. He scoped the house downstairs for any clues, then asked the old lady if he could look upstairs. She insisted that she was upstairs the whole time and no one apart from her had been up there that day, but regardless of this the detective ascended the staircase to which she hesitantly moved aside.
Beyond the staircase, there was a narrow corridor, with three closed doors along it. He checked behind each of the doors, the empty bedroom – nothing, the bathroom- nothing. He became anxious as he slowly made his way to the final bedroom where the old lady slept. He opened it and everything looked normal. A bed, a wardrobe and a bedside table with a lamp. He checked every wall of the room in horror, as it was not what he discovered, but it was what he didn’t discover that made him stop dead in his tracks and slowly reach for his gun in its holster. It was a detail so minor that they had completely overlooked it on the last investigation of the husband’s death. There was no phone upstairs. He suddenly heard a noise as he withdrew his gun and rushed out of the room, only to find an empty wheelchair atop the stairs.

fyeahcreepyshit:

Stairs

In 1984, there lived an old widowed lady by herself in a two story house who was completely immobile and bound to her wheelchair. Ever since the mysterious death of her husband, she required the aid of a carer who would visit her daily to help her with everyday tasks. What made it even more difficult, was the fact that the two floors of the house were only connected by an old staircase inside. When the old lady needed to move between the two, the carer would have to carry her frail body like an infant, up and down the stairs. One day the police received a call from the widow. There had been a murder.

Since police units were scarce at the time, and the murderer had already fled the scene, only one detective was sent out to conduct the initial crime scene report. He arrived to see the carer’s body splayed out on the floor with her vocal chords ripped out in a pool of blood on the first level of the house, with the old lady atop the staircase in her wheelchair watching him, still and silently, seemingly in shock. He could immediately rule her out as a suspect, due to her inability to move up and down the stairs, and because she was trapped up there the time the murder took place. It was similar to the death of her husband many years ago, who had suffocated in his sleep on the couch downstairs.

The detective put on his gloves, took photos, swabbed for evidence, and covered the body until the coroner arrived later – all routine business. He scoped the house downstairs for any clues, then asked the old lady if he could look upstairs. She insisted that she was upstairs the whole time and no one apart from her had been up there that day, but regardless of this the detective ascended the staircase to which she hesitantly moved aside.

Beyond the staircase, there was a narrow corridor, with three closed doors along it. He checked behind each of the doors, the empty bedroom – nothing, the bathroom- nothing. He became anxious as he slowly made his way to the final bedroom where the old lady slept. He opened it and everything looked normal. A bed, a wardrobe and a bedside table with a lamp. He checked every wall of the room in horror, as it was not what he discovered, but it was what he didn’t discover that made him stop dead in his tracks and slowly reach for his gun in its holster. It was a detail so minor that they had completely overlooked it on the last investigation of the husband’s death. There was no phone upstairs. He suddenly heard a noise as he withdrew his gun and rushed out of the room, only to find an empty wheelchair atop the stairs.

(Reblogged from internet-grab-my-tumblr)
(Reblogged from creepworm)

Dream Catchers

When you’re asleep is by far your most vulnerable time. Someone could easily come and grab you without you even knowing until it happened… However that may be the least of your worries.

You know how you usually dream about your friends or people you know? Well you’re lucky. You should hope it stays that way.

What about when you dream of someone you’ve never met? Well most of the time it’s a subconscious projection of someone you have seen before, or someone you crossed paths with in the street, but then sometimes its not…

Your mind may have the ability to create people in your dreams - but be warned. There are some people that don’t come from your imagination at all; they come from somewhere far different. These are dream catchers. A dark cloaked figure, a shadow that never reveals itself, the unidentified thing chasing you, or just that strange man watching ever so closely.

If you ever encounter someone in your dreams that doesn’t look familiar or seem to be recognisable, you must do everything in your power to make yourself wake up, because that’s where they will get you.

The Mexican Elbow Runners

At the local pub I go to, there used to be an old man who would occasionally show up there by himself, not saying much. Sometimes after a few drinks he would open up a bit and share his old stories. One day he told a story in particular that has stuck with me… It was so disturbing that I tried to question him about it for more information, but he simply told me to forget it. I haven’t seen him there again ever since. I will retell it here as best I can…

It is said that on the outskirts of a small village near Mexico, there lies an abandoned overgrown cane farm. In these parts, there exists an old dirt road that stretches off into the distance as far as your eyes will let you see. The road acts like an old scar, revealing the harsh dry soil below the cane, which grew right up to the roads edges, but never over. Many famous legends came from this area about the seasonal cane cutters who would mysteriously disappear while walking down this road, with a strange set of ‘prints’ nearby, being the only evidence left behind. One belief was that these seasonal workers were abducting young children from the town (read on and you’ll understand why) who would also seem to go missing at the same time. However one particular explanation for these disappearances emerged above the others. That of the elbow runners.

The road was once used by the farmer who occupied these parts, until one night he just took off, and as the story goes, it’s not hard to see why…

It was late one evening, I’m told around dusk, and he was driving his tractor back home from work. He had been hoping to make it home by nightfall driving along the aforementioned pot holed track with caution as the crop on either side of him rustled in the wind. You could still see down the rows of cane, as they had once been planted with spacing between them, until it became too dense and dark to see any further. He was driving down the road when he suddenly pressed hard on his breaks (evidence of heavy braking that was found later). He saw what resembled the face a baby down by the entrance to one of the rows of cane.

In disbelief he pulled over to the side of the road to investigate. He could hear crying. He exited his tractor and proceeded to make his way over to where the sound was coming from. Down by the entrance to the row of cane, the long overgrown crop shadowed what is said to have been to be an infant in a potato sack, wriggling around. The noise lured him closer, although as he approached, it no longer sounded like a cry, but more like an animal sounding a call.

It didn’t make sense. He planned to quickly scoop up the baby and report straight back to the police station. When suddenly, a black shadow flashed across the row of cane he stood adjacent to as the crop moved violently and rustled in unison with what he saw. He grew concerned…

In a state of panic, he swept down to rescue the child form the sack. Although to his horror, his efforts revealed a severed head with a tape recorder next to it. Hundreds of cockroaches poured from the neck of the once living child they were feeding upon. The child’s lifeless blackened eyes stared into his as the tape recorder let out a high pitch haunting scream. The farmer dropped the head, stumbled backwards to the ground and froze in terror.

Staring down into the cane he could hear the formidable sound of these ‘things’ scurrying towards him. Darkness had fallen now, but the moonlight above revealed something sinister… There were these sets of human-like feet visible above the cane approaching the farmer at such a speed - faster than a human could move; their feet were brown, with overgrown nails clawing downwards. Below the cane it was too dark to see what exactly was coming at him, only these sets of white eyes staring at him menacingly from a position close to the ground.

The story ends here. The current whereabouts of the farmer is unknown. It is said he escaped on foot, and decided to pack up and leave the town after such a frightening incident. The questions I raised with the man at the pub is how such a graphic account of the incident emerged if the farmer went missing, and I have held my suspicions for a while that the old man from the pub was in the fact the farmer… The police that investigated the farmers whereabouts, labelled the disappearance as a runaway case; that of his own accord, since most his personal belongings were taken with him and there were no signs of a struggle. But perhaps this was easier for the police, rather than investigate further into it. Perhaps for good reason they stayed away… No one knows for sure, except the missing farmer.

It is said by the few locals, who overheard the talk, that what they did find however was unsettling. There were tracks of circular like prints discovered near the abandoned tractor that led off into the cane fields. Although the police were baffled, upon investigation of these prints it was determined that they were from something that would have moved purely on its elbows…

This was the story I was told. If you don’t choose to believe it, then next time you are down by the cane and hear a cry, you could do the moral thing and try to save whatever you think it is. But if you have your suspicions of the ‘elbow runners’, I know for sure the farmer would beg of you to run… run fast.

An Unsettling Memory

There’s this one memory from my childhood I could never really explain. I never told to anyone until now because, well, I simply couldn’t explain it in a way that made any sense. I’ve tried to forget about it, but it’s just stayed with me forever. 

One afternoon, I was helping my grandfather by chopping some wood with him out the back of his property by the shed. I remember that I was taking a short break to catch my breath, when I looked out into the surrounding forest and something out of place caught my eye. It was a large black ‘dog’ like creature that had stopped dead in its tracks, and was staring straight at me; I couldn’t help thinking how empty its eyes looked.

Being the young and naïve kid that I was, I quietly put down my children’s sized axe and followed after it. I know it sounds completely ridiculous, but I just felt compelled, as if it had captured my attention because it wanted me to follow it.

My grandfather was unaware that I had even left, as I entered the forest. However as I tried to approach the creature, it began drawing away, maintaining a distance so that I could never really make out what it was. Whenever I stopped briefly to see how it would react, it would simply stop too and stare back at me. Looking back now, I get shivers thinking that perhaps it was trying to coax me further in…

By now my grandfather must have realized I was missing and let out a worried yell, as suddenly I saw this ‘dog’ get up on its hind legs, almost human-like, and shuffle behind a large outcrop where I could no longer see it.

Disobeying my grandfather’s calls, I crept around behind the rocks trying to find where it had gone, and this is where it gets disturbing. All that I found was the ripped open carcass of the same black creature on the ground with blood everywhere, as something rustled off into the bushes. I ran back to my grandfather who was furious with me and made me swear to never go into the forest again.

The Promise

A young couple were out driving through the woods late one night, down a narrow road surrounded by tall trees. The boyfriend was behind the wheel, when he suddenly looked uneasy and pulled the car over to the side of the road. He undid his seat belt and looked at his girlfriend.

“I have to do something, and I need you to promise me, whatever happens, you do not leave this car,” he said.

“What do you mean!?” she panicked. “Why are you getting out? Why can’t I come with you?” 

He didn’t reply at first, but simply opened his door and got out, only before stopping to stare at her one last time. “Look, don’t worry, there’s nothing to be afraid of, just please promise me no matter what happens, you will NOT leave the car.”

“I promise.” She gulped. “But how long will you b-” He closed the door, leaving her there alone in the dark.

After 10 minutes, he still wasn’t back. She grew impatient and began fidgeting, as she tried to rationalize her thoughts. He had been acting so weird lately as if he was hiding something… always checking if they were alone, always asking exactly where she went, and now he goes and does this!? She began to wonder if she could really trust him.

Another 15 minutes passed and he still wasn’t back. She tried calling him, but he didn’t answer. She began to fill with worry. She undid her seat belt and wound down her window slightly to allow the cold breeze to roll in and help relieve her anxiety. Suddenly, through the open window, she began to hear a faint whimpering noise coming from deep in the dark woods. It sounded like someone in pain…

She thought for a moment about what she had promised her boyfriend, but decided to act on her gut instinct. After all he might’ve been hurt and needed help, and she wasn’t going to just sit there and let him die. She got out, and slowly built up the courage to creep between the trunks of the first two large trees and into the woods. “Hello?” she kept calling out, praying to hear her boyfriends reply.

She followed the whimpering sound for a few minutes, until she could no longer see the car headlights on the road. She was completely engulfed in the darkness of the woods, when finally she could see the source of the noise. There was a man tied up to the base of a tree with his head hung down, whimpering. The man looked somewhat familiar, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. He saw the girl and sat up in excitement and began pleading with her. “Your boyfriend is in danger!! Please untie me! They’ve got me and him trapped. Thank god you’re here, let me free so I can go save him!” 

Simply hearing her boyfriend was in danger was enough, as she hesitantly untied the man who rose slowly to his feet and raised his menacing eyes to look at her. She knew she had seen this man somewhere before,  as his face contorted with a look of insanity, and a wicked smile grew across his cheeks as he ran off into the darkness. 

Confused at what had just happened, and growing in dread, she slowly backtracked towards the car. Where was her boyfriend? Who was that man? Was he going to help her boyfriend? Why did he look so evil?

Suddenly her phone rang. It was her boyfriend, he seemed out of breath but was sounding safe and alive. “Look babe, everything’s going to be alright now.” He panted, “I couldn’t tell you before because it would have frightened you too much. You see, I’ve noticed that a man has been stalking you these last few weeks, and I mean a completely obsessive freak. He’s followed you everywhere. He’s been growing confident and has been getting closer too - a bit too close, I’ve been afraid of what he might do soon. So just today, I hid some rope and a knife out here in the woods. I knew if I came out with you he would follow, and sure enough I saw him running along in the darkness behind the car tonight. But its OK! I caught him and tied him up.”

She slowly turned numb as her mind processed the words in disbelief as they flowed into her ear.

He continued, “I think he’s been trying to get you for weeks, but he’s never had the chance. Thats why I’ve been making sure you’ve always stayed in public places for safety. I guess he thought tonight was it, but I outsmarted him babe! We’re going to be fine now! I just went to hide the knife then and we’ll call the police to come and take him soon. Sorry I took so long, is it cold in the car?” 

She felt nothing. She stood there motionless and couldn’t move or talk.

“Babe? I’m coming back now. You’re still in the car right?”

She began hyperventilating. “I-I-I I’m so sorry, I-” but it was too late. She was cut off by the swift sound of a knife slicing through skin on the other end of the line, and the gasps of someone painfully choking to death. This was followed by a splattering sound that continued for a long time. She had just heard her boyfriend being murdered. 

She was hysterical in her tears and thoughts, as she dropped the phone and frantically stumbled back towards the car like a disorientated zombie. She managed to open the door with her trembling hands as she crawled back into the safety of the vehicle and locked the doors. That’s when she realised she didn’t have the keys.