The Empty Van

I hadn’t been at my apartment long when I noticed the van. Maybe two or three weeks at the most. I was trying to figure out which neighbors drove which cars, and no matter how I figured it, I always come out with one extra.

It didn’t take me long to figure out which one was the extra. A rusted gray van sat at the very edge of the parking lot. If I peeled back my blinds, I could usually see it without too much trouble. 

Its design had gone out of fashion sometime around the mid-90’s. First of all, it was a full-sized van instead of a minivan. Those always seemed somewhat rarer these days. The length always surprised me when I pulled up to it on my way out of the parking lot. Rusted gun-metal gray metal extended throughout the exterior, with wood-paneling and several chrome rods pushing over the van’s segmented surface. Inside I couldn’t make out many details save curtains on the windows, which made for an odd touch, I thought. 

Over the next few weeks, I didn’t think too much about the van. I figured it must belong to somebody, right? Living in town, our parking lots were a bit of a premium, especially during festivals and other seasonal events. My landlord would regularly tow any vehicles who didn’t belong to residents. Given this, I thought the van must have belonged to someone. Perhaps one of my neighbors had two cars, and was able to secure two parking spots as well.

Though I did find it a bit strange that that, even if this was the case, the owner never drove the van. After the first month and a half, I would have been surprised if the van even still ran given how long it had sat in the parking lot. By then, however, I had mostly adjusted to my digs. I considered the van simply an fixture of the apartment, and like most of the other residents, I didn’t ask questions. I just figured there must be some explanation, and at the end of the day, it was none of my business. 

The days stretched on and I honestly kind of forgot about it. I didn’t think about the van. It wasn’t until I started having trouble sleeping. I later found it was because of some rather unfortunate dietary decisions I had made. Regardless, I was up at 4:00 A.M. with nothing to do but watch YouTube videos.

For some reason, I felt a chill run down my spine. I moved to the window to see what was going on outside. I gazed down at the van, and I was amazed by what I saw. 

There was someone inside the van. He sat on the driver’s side. At least, I thought it was a “he”. Honestly, the figure looked far too blank for me to see many details. The more I looked at the shape, the less I saw. I still could perceive the rough outline of a man, but I saw no features save two blank white ovals where I expected the eyes to be. I felt a chill run down my spine when I realized the shape - whoever the hell they were - looked up right at me.

I turned away instinctively. I tried to watch YouTube videos or read or check Facebook, but I was too spooked to do anything. Twenty minutes later, I peeked out my window.

The shape was still there looking up at me.

I didn’t have time for this, I knew. I had work in the morning. I was tired. This meant I was probably hallucinating. I was very tired after all. I went back to bed, and the explanation must have done justice because I managed to fall asleep several minutes later.

The next few nights I tried not to think about the figure. Before I went to bed each night I would stare out in search of the figure, but I would find any trace of it. So I would go to bed without much worry.

Until I woke up at the same time a week later. By then, I had told myself what I saw must have been in my head. It was dark, after all. I must have seen something that looked human, some kind of trick of my eyes. An Uncanny Valley type thing, I figured. 

I moved to the window, expecting to put this foolishness aside once and for all. My hopes were dashed, however, when I saw the same figure in the same position, unmistakably staring back up at me. I froze. I didn't know what to do. Finally, in desperation, I grabbed my phone and raced down the stairs. 

I was going to see who this guy was. I was going to get some answers at last.

I headed down the stairs and spun out of the door with such speed I was already seeing stars. When I reached the van, I expected to see the man sitting in the front seat, staring up at my front window. But to my surprise, I didn’t see anything. The van was completely empty. After walking around the perimeter of the van for a few minutes, I went back upstairs.

I didn’t dare look out the window at night though, for fear that he…or it…might be there. 

After that, my investigation kicked into high gear. I started going around door-to-door asking whose van that was. I also started taking sleeping pills, desperate to ensure I didn’t wake up at that cursed hour. For the most part, I didn’t, and if I did, well, I sure as hell wasn’t looking out the window.

My investigation didn’t turn up any clues though. I was just about to call it quits when I received a call from my super. He’d heard about me asking questions. So he told me what he knew. Apparently the van belonged to the owner’s son. He left after a big blow-out with his father. Went all the way to Los Angeles to get his big break in the music industry. It didn’t go well though, and he came back six months later with his tail between his legs. His father was still fuming from the argument though, and wouldn’t give him the time of day.Sadly, his father never got a chance to patch things up. His son died from an accident a couple months later. 

I also learned the owner used to live in the apartment building - in my residence. And his son would always park the van in the same spot outside, trying to get his dad’s attention to talk.

Apparently he was still looking for his dad all those years later.

The owner had long since moved to Florida. I thought about reaching out, but I didn’t know quite what to say.

I still see the shadowy ghost of his son from time to time, sitting in the van which carried him to LA and back, and then into the afterlife. Sometimes I get the courage to wave at a shadowy phantom.

And sometimes, he waves back.