Texas Gas Station Mystery: Clerk Vanishes as Camera Captures Sinister Black Shadow

On the night of July 19th, 1991, a man vanished from a lonely gas station along Old Highway 90 in western Texas, leaving behind only questions, a half-finished cup of coffee, and a video recording that would haunt everyone who saw it.

The Setting

Val Verde County sits near the border with Mexico, a land of dry desert, thorny bushes, and scattered mesquite trees. In summer, the heat is relentless by day, dropping only slightly at night. The Red River Gas station, named for a river that had long since dried up, stood 22 miles east of Del Rio: two pumps, a small store, a few light poles, and a metal trailer for the clerk.

Larry Holt had been working there since 1988. At 33, divorced and childless, he’d left San Antonio for solitude. The job suited him: quiet nights, few customers, and a trailer as part of his pay. He was reliable, never drank, never argued, and kept to himself.

But in the spring of 1991, Larry began to change.

The Warnings

Owner Garrett noticed Larry growing nervous. When Garrett visited, Larry spoke of seeing a dark figure in the desert, standing motionless beyond the station grounds. Garrett dismissed it as coyotes or vagrants—both common in Texas. He advised Larry to lock up after midnight and avoid going out alone.

But Larry kept seeing the figure, always at night, always closer. He described it as tall and dark, a silhouette with no details. Garrett, now concerned for Larry’s health, suggested time off. Larry refused, needing the money and not wanting to leave the station unattended.

By June, the stories became stranger. Larry showed Garrett large footprints near his trailer—three-toed, longer than any human foot. The night before, he’d heard slow, repetitive scratching on the metal walls. When he checked, only the footprints remained, trailing off into the desert. Garrett offered explanations—vultures, coyotes, wind-distorted tracks—but Larry didn’t believe him.

On July 18th, Garrett visited again. Larry looked tense but insisted he was fine. He’d seen the figure again, closer than ever, standing on the edge of the lit area. When Larry shone his flashlight, the figure didn’t move—and didn’t cast a shadow. Its proportions were wrong: too tall, too broad, arms too long. Garrett urged him to take a break. Larry refused.

It was the last time anyone saw Larry Holt alive.

The Disappearance

At 6:40 a.m. on July 20th, truck driver Ray Tullson stopped for gas and coffee. The store was open, lights on, music playing, but no one was behind the counter. Ray waited, then searched the back room. The phone was off the hook, ringing with a busy signal. The last logbook entry was at 6:04 a.m. The coffee cup was still warm.

Ray checked the trailer—door closed, no answer. Realizing something was wrong, he drove to a phone booth three miles away and called the sheriff. He returned to wait for police, who arrived around 7:40.

The deputies found everything in order: cash drawer untouched, Larry’s wallet and documents in the trailer, clothes neatly folded, pickup truck parked behind the trailer. The only oddity was a clean patch of dust near the store entrance, as if something had swept it away.

Garrett arrived at 9:00 a.m., alarmed. He confirmed Larry’s handwriting in the logbook and the cash in the drawer. When asked about problems, Garrett revealed Larry’s stories of the shadowy figure and strange footprints.

Then Garrett remembered the surveillance camera.

The Tape

A year earlier, Garrett had installed a simple black-and-white camera, recording on VHS in six-hour cycles. They rewound the tape and watched.

The footage showed Larry’s routine: serving customers, cleaning, reading magazines. At 6:24 a.m., Larry put down his magazine, sipped his coffee, and stared at the door. He walked to the entrance, paused, and looked outside.

For 20 seconds, he stood motionless, as if peering into the darkness. Then his posture changed—shoulders tense, arms rising slightly. He stepped back, cautiously.

Suddenly, Larry disappeared from the frame—not by walking out, but as if something large and dark blocked the lens. A blurry, shapeless black spot appeared in the lower left corner, absorbing light. It pulsed for 30 seconds, then vanished. The store was empty. Larry never returned to the frame.

At 6:43, Ray entered the store, looking for the clerk.

The deputies watched the scene four times. The young officer suggested a tape glitch, but the technician later said it wasn’t normal—no stripes, no static, just a dark spot that absorbed light and then disappeared.

The Investigation

The tape was sealed as evidence. The disappearance was classified as “unknown circumstances”—not a kidnapping, not a robbery, not a runaway. Larry’s ex-wife hadn’t heard from him in years. His bank account was untouched after July 18th. All his belongings remained.

A search party combed the area: the dry riverbed, the mesquite thicket, abandoned buildings. No trace of Larry Holt—no clothes, no body, no sign anyone had passed through.

Detectives interviewed customers from that night. All three remembered Larry as normal, unafraid. One trucker saw him looking out the window, but thought nothing of it.

The tape was reviewed repeatedly by police and technicians. Everyone saw the same thing: Larry walks to the door, steps back, disappears, a dark spot appears, then nothing.

Months later, Garrett asked for the tape, but was told it had been lost in transport to the county archives. No copies existed. The explanation was “administrative error.” Garrett suspected more, but a lawyer said nothing could be done without proof.

The Legend

Larry Holt was never found. The case closed in 1993 as a missing person, no evidence of foul play. Garrett sold the gas station, the trailer was replaced, and business continued.

But the story lingered. Larry had described a shadowy figure, tall and disproportionate, casting no shadow, leaving three-toed footprints. Texas folklore spoke of “la sombra”—the shadow. Old-timers said it watched from a distance, approached those who lingered too long between civilization and the wild.

Larry Holt spent three years alone at a gas station, working night shifts, living in a trailer. Months before he vanished, he started seeing something in the dark. Each time, it came closer.

The tape showed him peering into the darkness, stepping back, then vanishing as a dark spot absorbed the light. Thirty seconds later, the spot disappeared. Larry was never seen again.

The tape vanished from the archives. The official explanation was an error. But those who saw it remember the fear, the wrongness of what they saw—a shadow that moved when it shouldn’t.

The Unanswered Questions

What did Larry Holt see that night? What made him step back? What blocked the camera, and where did he go? There are no answers—only an empty gas station, an old highway, and the Texas desert, keeping its secrets.

Some mysteries never fade. They linger in the dust and darkness, waiting for the next lonely traveler to look into the night and wonder what’s watching from the shadows.