CÔNG TY TNHH DỆT SỢI CONTINENTAL là một công ty có trụ sở tại Việt Nam, chuyên sản xuất các loại vải dệt thoi thực sự độc đáo. Chúng tôi đã thành lập vào năm 2015-04-08 00:00:00, với mã số thuế là 3901203321. Với dây chuyền sản xuất hiện đại và nhân viên có kinh nghiệm chuyên môn, CÔNG TY TNHH DỆT SỢI CONTINENTAL đã nâng cao chất lượng sản phẩm và dịch vụ của mình. Sản phẩm của chúng tôi đem đến sự hài lòng cho khách hàng bởi độ bền, đẹp mắt và mức giá cạnh tranh.
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2024.12.11 08:38 TAP7744 Don’t Drive the 11 Miles
I'm writing this as a warning. Not to scare you or entertain you but to stop you from making the same mistake I did. If you've ever heard of the 11 Mile Ritual, forget it. Forget the TikToks, the Reddit threads, the urban legends. They make it sound like some spooky game, something fun to try when you're bored. It's not. I thought it was a joke, too. I thought it would distract me from everything falling apart in my life. I was wrong. I can't sleep anymore. I can barely think. Because when I close my eyes, I see her. And I feel like she's still watching me when I'm awake. I've tried to explain what happened, to convince myself it wasn't real, but the more I think about it, the more I realize it doesn't matter. It was real. And if you're stupid enough to ignore this or even about driving past the third mile, you're already lost. It started at 2:30 a.m. I couldn't sleep again. After Emily left, my nights became this endless, suffocating silence. I'd scroll through TikTok for hours, letting the stupid videos drown out my thoughts. That's when I saw it. The video was simple: a narrator with an unnervingly calm voice explained the 11 Mile Ritual. You drive down a desolate road, following specific rules, and if you make it through all 11 miles, you get your deepest wish. It sounded ridiculous. It's like some modern-day ghost story. But then the narrator said, That hit me hard. After Emily walked out, I felt like I left. No closure, no answers just a gnawing emptiness that wouldn't go away. I told myself it was just a drive, just something to do. I grabbed my keys and left. The road I picked was one I knew well a dirt path on the outskirts of town. Emily and I used to drive it late at night to escape everything. I figured it would be quiet, empty. But as soon as I passed the first mile, something felt...off. There were no signs, no landmarks. Just endless dirt and trees. The air seemed heavier, like the world was pressing down on me. The engine's hum felt quieter, almost muffled. The odometer ticked to 1 mile, and I tried to laugh it off, convincing myself it was just my imagination. By Mile 2, though, I wasn't so sure. The trees on either side of the road were taller than I remembered, their branches intertwining overhead like they were trying to block out the sky. The radio crackled with static when I turned it on, sharp and grating, so I shut it off. That's when I saw her. At first, I thought it was an animal a small, shadowy figure in the middle of the road. But as I got closer, I realized it wasn't an animal. It was a girl. She stood completely still, a small figure in a raincoat, her head bowed. I slammed on the brakes, my heart pounding in my chest. She didn't move. Grabbing the flashlight from the glove box, I exited the car. My breath fogged in the cold air as I approached, my footsteps crunching against the gravel. "Hey!" I called, my voice shaky. "Are you okay?" She didn't answer. She just started crying—soft at first, then louder, deeper, until it wasn't crying anymore. It was this guttural, choking sound that made my stomach twist. "Do you need help?" I asked again, but my voice barely came out. Then she moved. Her head snapped up, and her face... I'll never forget her face. Her eyes were black voids, endless and empty, and her mouth twisted into a grin that stretched too wide, like her skin was tearing. And then she screamed. The sound was so loud, so piercing, it felt like it was burrowing into my skull. Before I could react, she bent backward with a sickening crack, her limbs twisting like a broken marionette. She started running. Not like a little girl, but like an animal—on all fours, galloping toward me with impossible speed. I ran back to the car, my legs barely carrying me as my breath came in ragged gasps. I slammed the door shut, locking it as fast as I could. She was there, at the window, her face pressed against the glass, that awful grin still stretching wider. Her fists—or claws—slammed against the window, each hit louder, harder. I shoved the keys into the ignition, my hands shaking so badly I could barely turn them. The engine sputtered. "Come on, come on, come on!" I shouted, slamming the steering wheel. Finally, the car roared to life. I floored it, not caring if I hit her—I just needed to get away. But when I looked up, she was gone. Just...gone. The odometer ticked to 3 miles, and I kept driving, gripping the wheel so tight my knuckles ached. I didn't want to seewhat came next. If you're reading this and thinking about trying the ritual, stop. Whatever you think you want, whatever truth you thinkyou'll find, it's not worth it. And if you're already out there on that road... I'm sorry. You can't go back now. I pressed the gas harder, the engine growling as the car surged forward. My hands were locked on the wheel, knuckles white, sweat pooling in my palms. I kept glancing in the rearview mirror, half-expecting to see her there again—that twisted, unnatural grin, those black, empty eyes. But the road ahead was the same. The trees on either side felt closer now, their branches forming a canopy so thick it blocked out the moonlight. The headlights barely seemed to cut through the darkness, illuminating only the stretch of road directly in front of me. The air inside the car was suffocating. Hot, despite the cold night outside. It felt like the air wasn't moving, like I was trapped in some vacuum where the rules of reality didn't apply. And then, I saw it. At first, it looked like fog—thick, swirling mist creeping onto the road ahead. But as I got closer, I realized it wasn't fog. It was smoke, black and curling, pouring out of the trees like something alive. The smell hit me before I even reached it—a rancid, choking stench of burning meat and rotting wood. I slowed down, against every instinct screaming at me to keep going. The smoke didn't just float—it twisted and writhed, forming shapes that dissolved before I could make sense of them. Faces, maybe. Or hands. I didn't want to drive through it. I didn't want to know what was on the other side. But the car kept rolling forward, almost like it was being pulled. When the smoke surrounded me, the world changed. The headlights barely pierced the thick black haze, and the engine's sound seemed muffled and distant. Shapes moved in the corners of my vision—quick, darting shadows that vanished the moment I turned my head. I gripped the wheel tighter, forcing myself to look straight ahead. Don't stop. Don't look back. That's what the TikTok had said, right? Or maybe that was something I'd read in a comment. I couldn't remember anymore. Something darted across the road, just out of range of the headlights. I slammed on the brakes, my heart thundering in my chest. It was fast, too fast to be an animal. A blur of pale skin and long limbs, gone before I could process it. The engine sputtered. The car shuddered, the dashboard lights flickering. "No. No, no, no," I muttered, turning the key in the ignition. The engine coughed but didn't start. The shadows in the smoke stopped moving. They were still now, just beyond the headlights, watching. And then they started whispering. The voices came from everywhere and nowhere, overlapping in a cacophony of hisses and murmurs. Words I didn't understand. Words I couldn't understand. I slammed my hands over my ears, but it didn't help. The whispers were inside my head, slithering through my thoughts like worms. And then I heard my name. Soft at first, almost lost in the chaos. But it grew louder, sharper, until it drowned out everything else. I froze. My foot was still on the brake, my hands trembling on the wheel. The voice was familiar. Emily. My blood turned to ice. The smoke parted, just enough for me to see the figure standing in the road ahead. It was her. Emily, in the same clothes she'd worn the last time I saw her. Her hair was matted, her face pale, her eyes dark hollows. She wasn't smiling. She looked...tired. Broken. "Why didn't you save me?" she said again, her voice cracking. I shook my head, gripping the wheel tighter. "You left. You walked out, Emily. I—I couldn't—" "You didn't even try," she interrupted, stepping closer. Her movements were jerky, unnatural. The whispers grew louder, swirling around her, filling the car. "You didn't love me enough," she said, her voice echoing with something else, something darker. "Stop!" I screamed, slamming the gas pedal. The car lurched forward, but the odometer didn't budge. It was stuck. 3 miles. Emily didn't move. She just stood there, her hollow eyes locked on me, her face twisting into that same impossible grin I'd seen on the girl. I swerved, trying to avoid her, but the car slid sideways. When I looked back, she was gone. The odometer ticked to 4 miles. The whispers stopped, replaced by a low, guttural growl that seemed to come from the earth itself. The road ahead was different now—wet, slick, like it had been raining, but the sky was clear. I didn't want to keep driving. But I couldn't stop. And neither will you, if you're foolish enough to start this drive. I'm telling you: it's not worth it. Whatever you think you want, the 11 Miles won't give it to you. They'll take something else instead. Something you can't ever get back. If you start the drive, you won't come back the same. If you come back at all. The odometer ticked over to 4 miles. I should've turned around. I should've stopped. But the road wouldn't let me. It pulled me forward, like the car wasn't mine to control anymore. The wheel resisted every attempt to turn it, the gas pedal moved under its own weight, and the headlights pierced into a darkness I didn't understand. The wet road glistened unnaturally, reflecting faint shapes that moved even though nothing should have been there. My heart hammered as I thought about Emily, about her voice, about the way she'd smiled at me just before disappearing. "Why didn't you save me?" Her voice still echoed in my ears.
