The man in the forest (Creepy Content)

Driver Jatt

The man in the forest (Creepy Content)

I found myself in a forest deep in Surrey. Not my usual Birmingham to industrial estate run. This was a proper job off the beaten track, a delivery to a private residence down a lane that seemed to forget what tarmac was.

That’s when I saw him. A man, just standing among the trees. He was perfectly still. Not moving at all. He hadn’t noticed me. He was frozen. As my son would say, “he’s in the ‘pause’ menu.”

My brain, never helpful in these situations, started running through the possibilities. What is he doing? Maybe he’s having a moment of creepy reflection in the forest. What if he’s not real? What if he’s that forest demon guy folk talk about online? Y’know the one that attacks people. No problem, I’ll do kung fu on him. Crap, I don’t even know kung fu.

He did smell a little. I could smell him from here. A damp, earthy, organic smell. Like a dead guy in a forest. Or maybe just a guy who really, really liked the forest.

Breaking the Silence

I had to get to the car park. I called out to him. “Hi?”
Nothing. Not a single response. Not a twitch.
“Sorry, do you know which way the car park is?”

Then, he moved. He slowly turned around. His movements were choppy, stiff. Maybe this was one of them ‘matrix’ moments the internet talks about, where the simulation lags.

“Yes,” he said, his voice surprisingly normal. “Follow this path and take the first left and you’ll see it.”

The Unexpected Rant

This guy was nice as pie. Helpful, even. And then he started ranting. About the government. About how taxation is theft. I just nodded in agreement, the universal signal for ‘please don’t sacrifice me to the woodland gods.’ He had an overall rough appearance, like he lived in the forest itself. His clothes were layers of well-worn fabrics, perfectly camouflaged against the bark and leaves.

After a brief chat where I learned more about his libertarian views than I ever needed, I took his advice and walked away, heading for the supposed car park. A few steps down the path, a chill—sillier than the autumn air—made me turn around.

The guy was gone. Just like that. No sound of footsteps, no rustle. He’d vanished into the quiet of the woods as if he’d never been there. Spooky, eh?

The Courier’s Reality Check

Sitting back in the van, engine running, the oddness of it settled. This is the unscripted bit of the job you don’t get on a motorway. One delivery takes you to a forest in Surrey where you get directions from a possibly-supernatural political commentator. The next will be to a shiny office in Solihull.

It highlights the adaptability you need. You’re not just navigating postcodes. You’re navigating situations. Finding addresses down hidden lanes, dealing with unexpected characters, and still getting the package to the door with a (slightly wary) smile. Whether it’s a corporate park or the edge of a woodland, the job gets done. The story, however, is a bonus.

Need something delivered somewhere… anywhere? I’ll find it. Even if I have to ask for directions first.