It was a cool Friday evening, one I’ll never forget. Driving home from a work trip along the Nairobi-Mombasa highway, I felt at ease. The road was smooth, the sky clear, and soft tunes hummed from my radio. Then, in a heartbeat, everything changed. A massive trailer ahead veered wildly, like a runaway giant. Later, I’d learn its brakes had failed. What unfolded next was a nightmare. The trailer tore through cars in our lane, crumpling them like paper, metal shrieking, and voices crying out in terror.
It was chaos in slow motion – glass shattering, lives upended in seconds. My body froze. My hands clung weakly to the wheel, my foot too stunned to find the brake. The trailer barrelled closer, leaving destruction in its wake, stopping just metres from my car. When the dust cleared, an eerie silence gave way to heart-wrenching wails. The loss of so many lives left cars reduced to mangled heaps. I sat there, trembling, my pulse roaring in my ears. I’d escaped death by a whisper. Sleep evaded me that night; every blink replayed the horror. A week later, at a roadside café, I overheard whispers of that “cursed” stretch of road, plagued by accidents. Superstition, maybe… But could there be something darker at play? Continue Reading