Road Rage Stories Novels & Stories

I was starting to see the foolishness of my ways. I tried to turn the ignition again. Zero. Sam was gone like Armie Hammer's career. Another ear-piercing explosion of honks echoed through my head. Road ragers pounded their fists out their windows, screaming profanities and trying to cut through the other lane. "Move this piece of crap outta the road, asshole." "Learn to drive stick, rice turd." "D'you see that ass on that woman? She could ride my stick any day of the week."

The vehicle abruptly came to a halt in the middle of the road. Carissa, feeling exasperated, began tapping her steering wheel impatiently while questioning the cause of the congestion. In a moment of frustration, she inadvertently honked, prompting the drivers behind her to react with curses. "Why are you provoking us? We're all stuck here!" exclaimed one of the affected drivers. A robust man emerged from the adjacent vehicle and proceeded to pound on Carissa's car door. An argument ensued as Carissa defended her vehicle, emphasizing its value and warning the man against causing any damage.

I told him I was on my way to discuss the matter further. I drove like a maniac, weaving through traffic with no regard for anything other than getting to my destination. My ribs screamed every time I turned the wheel too sharply, even though I had just taken another dose of pain medication, and I reached for the glove compartment to take some more, but I stopped myself, remembering the movie The Wolf of Wall Street; perhaps they needed more time to work.

She wrapped her arm around my shoulders and exhaled. “So I pulled up WGN online. They were talking about an older man driving the wrong way. He hit two lawyers and a newly released inmate. Pinned the ex inmate and one lawyer’s leg to the wall. The other got knocked into the street, but didn’t get hit by oncoming traffic.” I frowned. “Okay… so an old person caused an accident. That happens all the time.” She shook her head slowly. “No. You don’t understand.” “Understand what?”

I kicked his car twice again and hissed before heading to my car with my dignity on. The road was free again and I drove away speedily, replaying all that just happened a few minutes ago. I'm not the type that likes attention, neither am I the type that fights publicly. But in Lagos state, many mad people roam the city so you have to be equally mad to show them who is madder. It is a survival of the fittest between the madder and the maddest. I horned severally at the gate waiting for Kasali to open up. I'm seething and boiling in pure anger like molten lava. I can hear Kasali singing loudly and opening the gate. I drove in speedily almost hitting Kasali in the process.

The street was sparsely trafficked, and only one vehicle was coming in front of them, Frank crossed it and forced the driver to stop: an old woman who was going at low speed in her Subaru Forester, immediately he opened the door and, as best he could, took her out of the vehicle, while she was yelling things and trying to hit him with her hands. “I’m sorry, ma’am!" Frank yelled at her, grabbing her bag from the passenger seat and throwing it at her feet. The old woman kept complaining and cursing him. Frank spotted Roy, running up and pointing at him. He fired two shots at him, one hitting the rear-view mirror and the other brushing past the right ear. He immediately backed up and reached th

Grey repeatedly hit the steering wheel out of frustration due to the traffic congestion. It was rush hour on the road. Grey glanced at his wrist; the time showed ten-fifteen. It was understandable that he was stuck in traffic. Grey felt an overwhelming urge to explode. He wanted to curse the pedestrians crossing the street and the slow-moving vehicles. Grey was in a boiling rage, ready to explode like a rusty landmine, prepared to unleash an explosion in all directions. However, despite the traffic jam on the highway, it wasn't too severe, as, within a moment, the halted cars started to disperse and move slowly again.

DAMON'S POV: I was driving through the bustling streets of New York City, feeling annoyed and impatient. The constant honking and chaotic movement only added to my frustration. Suddenly, out of nowhere, another car collided with mine. The impact was jarring, but luckily, my skilled driver, Jackson, managed to maneuver the car to the side of the road, avoiding serious damage. "What the hell just happened?" I growled, my heart racing with anger. I clenched my fists, feeling the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

As I drove through it, a crazy motorcyclist zipped straight across my path, causing me to pull the handbrake and swerve as the car side-drifted to the right, blocking the oncoming vehicles wanting to pass me on the stretch. I was right in the middle of the intersection. All the other cars in the incoming traffic managed to stop in a chaotic mess, positioned in various directions. "Fucking bitch!" I yelled and slapped the steering wheel, looking angrily at the congestion that I had caused. Sadly, a trailer truck hit a convertible behind me. With regeneration healing for werewolves, I trusted that everyone was okay. No. That bitch caused this jam.

A firece gust of wind during a Gale boee 45-year-old Vittorio Louise's car into a river near Naples, Italy, in 1983. He managed to break a window, climb out and swim to shore, where a tree blew over and killed him. I don't own any of this stories. I found them in some creepy books. I'm thinking of writing my own scary stories, but not anytime soon. You can send me your short stories for a feature if you feel like it. Thanks for reading. Enjoy!