My 2nd Story, Comments needed

[Horror]

The Drive Off

BY

N. G. Schwab


It was a quarter to 8:00, during a late-spring afternoon and the falling sun began to cast reddish hues upon the parking lot. It was still hot in the summer air and it made your sweat pour down to your eyes, stinging them, and making you feel like your blind for a second. It has been a damn hot day out here, a scorcher, in the cliched, overused way of putting it.

The reddish-tinted sun beat down so much that the glare shown through my car, even in my darkened windshield. It was also so bad, that it almost made me miss the turn to the station. I hit the brakes when I was halfway past the driveway and the squeal of the tires echoed in the hot air.

I was now here and was on my way to get what I wanted, free-of-charge.

As I drove past the pumps I found that they were occupied, so I decided to wait it out.

To not cause suspicion, I parked in a parking space, by the building and waited. When I parked, I made sure it was on the side of the building with my car’s rear pointed to the attendant and my tinted window concealing myself.

If someone were to pay close attention, it was almost a dead giveaway of what I was here to do. This obvious telling of my future actions, is evident by the fact, that the rear of my car has no license plate.

I also planned this getaway ahead of time, to ensure that I can get out of her scout free. I knew where the exits where and everything else that I need to know, so all I had to do was wait for the pumps to become free.

I then reached my hand into my pocket and searched for a cigerette and a light; I lit it and then I furthered took in the scenery of the lot.

Some cars scattered throughout the parking lot, that were pumping gas, or getting something from the tiny food-mart inside. It gave me the thought that the station were so used to this type of easy business, that they were cautious when it came to money in the register, but didn’t much care for the gas pumps, because they made so much easy green.

I guess you could say that the station was so on its own island of trust with the customer, in the fact that they didn’t bother to make all pumps prepay only. This would be easy getaway, I thought, as my mind drifted and my philosophies filled my head.


Christ, I’m losing track of my time, my mind drifts sometimes when I’m bored, and I then completely forget the task at hand. I look over to the pumps, irritated at my incompetence, and see that it didn’t much matter because every pump is still occupied. It might not have been as long as I thought, I then check the clock radio and it reads, 7:51

A few more minutes pass, I look at the four pumps and one of them is free, but it’s the one facing the window. It is now reaffirmed in my mind that I have all the time in the world, no one would notice me or catch me, no one.

As I look around, I could see the lack of diversity amongst the people and the cars. The people all generally looked middle class or higher; I guess that was typical for this area of the country. Most of the people here were on their way to a business trip, or to visit relatives. Whatever the reason, that meant that these people could afford to drive a few hundred miles. One guy then caught my attention and he stood out like a piece of fingernail in a over-the-hill, black birthday cake.

I noticed them because they drove a nice car. He looked charismatic, smooth and punctuated by a knowing glow of charm and coolness, that seemed to pop out of his handsome-devilish smiling face and I immediately wanted to be him, I was jealous.

This man had a skinny, but lean figure, that showed he was built like an average guy, but he was more attractive then the average guy, by a mile; his face held the features of a stud. Black haired and bright blue eyed, this impressive fascique probably gave off a glow of superiority over everyone that he would come in contact with. They’d immediately think that they were in love with him, even wanted him, if they were girls. If they were guys, they would want to be him, as he was that kind of stunningly, attractive man.

I then began to play that old game that I would play in college, the game that asked you to pick someone out at random and start making things up about them. Say you might pick a women out that was very attractive in appearence and start talking about her modeling career; or, you would pick a longhaired man out and talk about his future rock-and-roll job. Sometimes, you did it just to be mean and would start picking on the people; so the pretty women might be a porno star and the long haired man might be a women. You’d just play games like this, with your buddies, to pass the time when you’re bored. It was slightly immature, but fun all the same, and thinking about it actually made me miss those days.

Well, to get back to the game, I’d have to say that he was happily married and he had a very steady job. He was, an uh, doctor… no, an investment banker, pulling in at least a million dollars a year. He had a wife, who was a children’s nurse; she was caring and got along great with kids. They were the perfect couple in many ways, neither one of them would commit infidelity, or even get into major arguments, they were simply soul mates.

I couldn’t certianly say this about myself, I’ve never had much of a steady relationship. I thought about this, “when will I get married, when.”

I then began to think that even though this couple had it all and in some ways was much better then me, I was actually superior to them in other ways. Because, I got things that they paid for, for free. Now, I doubt that those gutless, law-abiding citizens had the cahones to just get up and drive away.

As I continued dwelling on this, the pump on the other side of the attractive couple became free. It was the best pump to achieve my goal, so I continued to do what I set out to do. I then put the car in drive and slowly crept up to the unoccupied pump. As I drove, I made sure to look away from peoples’ faces, to conceal my own as well.

Arriving at the pump, I carefully set the car to an angle out of view of the attendant. I then still leave the motor running, as I put it in park and it is now time to go to work. I take another deep breath and get out of the car, leaving the doors unlocked, while my keys are still in the ignition. I close the door and take a quick glance around at the other customers. I don’t dare look in the attendant’s direction, so I still manage to conceal myself, which means, so good, so far.

I place a foot out of the door and then the other. I then get out the car, take another look around and make my way casually, over to the gas cap. I get there, open the cover, twist the cap and open it. My mind then begins to drift; to the couple, to my life at college, to my life presently.

As I’m thinking, the pumping goes smooth and I think no one takes notice to me. I take a breath again and put the nozzle back on the hook. I stop for a moment, as if I realized I had done something wrong, but then the feeling of fear washes away to normality. I then get in my car and proceed to drive away, what I didn’t know is that moments later, I will get the feeling back again and this time I will be certain that I messed up.

When I sit at the wheel driving away, I’m happy as a lotto winner; the appreciation for what I am doing has grown to stimulating heights of pride. I felt high, that’s all that needs to be said. As I then drive away to the door of freedom, I like every other time feel like no one notices me. I glance at the high class guy and feel from his not-glancing eyes a high aptitude of my skill of theft. I then round a turn around the building that makes me in view to my exit.

There are only a few yards between jail time and making it out of their scout free, but I take my time about it. As I pass the cashier’s window, I see, if only for the briefest second, something that makes me hit the gas as I start thinking, “this can’t be.”

As I pass the window, my sense of pride comes to a sudden halt. Time seems to freeze, as I see that the attendant is looking at me. He’s actually looking at me! Why is he? How did he know? In the few seconds of thought my mind searches for the answers.

I finally reel the answer from the depths of my not-aware memory and remember the moment that I put the nozzle back on the hook, obviously alerting the attendant that someone was done pumping gas and needed to pay. How stupid of me!

After the thought registers, I hit the gas and speed out of there, giving the red-faced attendant the bird as I drive away. I feel pleased with myself, like I won and conquered my enemy.

I then notice a gas-attendant, that I didn’t see, is running after my car trying to get the license plate off the rear. I know he won’t get it, so there’s nothing to worry about. I look in the rear-view mirror and see his mouth move in anger in incomprehensible words.

I don’t quite know what he said and I don’t really care. He shakes his fist, as I begin to round the turn and I’m practically falling out of the driver seat from laughter. I then begin to think, that I’m enroute to hotel and sleep, so life is quite good. Maybe, I can get some food too, that would be grand. But, something then foils these plans into never-known abyss.

A figure, a man to be exact, passes in front of my car, as I finish rounding that final turn out of the lot. I hit the brakes... too late.

This next minute happens in slow motion and is like an exclamation point of everything bad that I’ve done up to this point. I thought nothing would ever come out of these little gas freebies, but I was wrong. I begin to think that this is god’s revenge on me this is the end of it all. The sound of glass breaking, along with the blood on the windshield, signals an end to this once happy life.

Like a fleeting moment in time, the man’s face mashes apart and blood geysers out of the huge wound. He then goes flying over the car and lands on the road, with a deathing smack. My car then screeches to a halt, fishtailing in the road, so that the front of the car, is facing the hit man and I can see the damage done to him.

As I look at him, for a split second, he’s not moving and the trail of blood is growing in the cement. His cheast looks caved in and he seems to have a rib or two protruding from under the skin. His face is just a mere grease smear on the concrete and it is obvious, in these few moments looking at this, that the man’s life is no more.

Because of this moment of inattentiveness, when I hung the nozzle up, I’m in a shitload of trouble with the law. Quite simply, whatever I tell them now, I am done. I could of course tell them, that it was an accident, but then they’d ask about the absent license plates. What would I tell them about that, what could I fucking tell them about that. I have not the slightest idea what to tell them.

I thought about all this for a while, that my life will come to an end if I wait any longer; as the people from the gas station have taken notice to this accident. I see this and look at it subjectively for a few passing seconds and make a decision.

I get in my car, hit the gas and flee the scene. My life as a wanted felon begins at this point.

I begin to think to myself, that; “I’ll get away with it.” Then I think, “I’m not sure if I’ll get away with it.” I then firmly tell myself again, “I will get away with it.”

As I speed away, I begin to get a queasy feeling like I need to throw up.

[Horror]

Like an erupting volcano, my guilt begins to hit me a few hours later, in a bar. As I’m drinking the night away, I’m thinking about what I just have done and I’m realizing the possible consequences of this action.

How could I get away with this, it revolves in my mind, as I also ask the question, “how can I make everything ok.” As the thought beats on the side of my head like a brick, while it also keeps rotating in my head, like a record turntable of the tied up tension in myself. I need to take an action to make it all better, I think, as I begin to wonder how I can cover up the huge dent on my hood.

I begin to belive that I can sell the car for spare parts, thus covering up the hit skip and giving me some money in the process, to buy a new car. But, money isn’t what I care about; I care about my freedom, out of jail. Jail is what I care about, jail much needs to be avoided.

I’ve been here for about an hour and I’m certainly reliving tension. With each alcohol shot my guilt drops and with each guilt drop, I feel better, like a re-born man.

I look around the bar and everything looks normal, no reason to be startled. No reason to be thought of in the way of a hit-and-run perpetrator.

As I give a 360-degree turn, I see just a few people in this out-of-the-way, hick bar. No one, seems to pay any attention to me, a trademark hopefully of today. I start studying the people a little more closely.

Truck drivers, they much look like, maybe a few bikers. All with big beer bellies and the guys are built like the kind you know you don’t want to mess with, because they’ll put your head through a wall, really quick. I look down at the shot of booze on the table, Scotch-on-the-rocks, my favorite. I then pick it up and gulp it down.

The alcohol goes into my belly like a meal, warming it in a way; making everything feel all-better. I start thinking to myself that I can still get my gas freebies forever and everything will still be fine. But then something changes this thought completely.

I feel a hard-pat on my shoulder. My shoulder then tenses and I almost cough up my drink. I take a few seconds to sustain this cough and pat myself on the mouth, with my napkin, I then turn around.

“Hello?” the voice of the man standing in front of me sounds off, which I hear to be like the sound of a cold, distant and unreal sound; like the off-kilter, off-rhythmic voice you’d hear just before you slip into a deep nights sleep.

“ Hi, do I know you?” I say in a confused manner, it is then that I think to myself that the man sounds very familiar.

The man looks at me then very closely, studying me; he then nods at this remark and grins. Then he looks around the bar and takes what looks like to be a deep breath of air.

“We’ve met before,” the man then sits down next to me on the stool.

A few seconds pass, as I’m looking at him studying him, “who the hell is he?” I think to myself as my mind races for answers. I recognize him from somewhere, but where?

“Scotch on the rocks,” he says to the bartender., then he turns to me.

“ We did, where? I don’t recall meeting you.” I say with a bewildered look on my face, a look that pretty much sums up my current fear of being caught.

“Where do you think?” The man says as his smile goes wider and wider, stretching across his face in an almost in-human-like width of terror.

I can’t quite make him out compleately, to be honest, the shadows from the bar seem to play on his face; I give it no notice. Yet, I just have the feeling that I heard that voice before, in my dreams or something.

“You must have the wrong guy,“ I say turning away from him trying not to make eye contact.

“No, I’m positive, I have the right man. I'm absolutely positive. You really don’t remember me from anywhere, a few hours ago, perhaps. Because, I remember you indefinitely. Indefinitely,” He says again this time even colder, as if I could see his breath freeze in the air, as the words come out of his mouth, chilling me to the spine and seeping into my bone marrow.

“I don’t know, this is the first time I’ve been off the road all day.” I take a sip of my drink when I say this, this time making eye contact, in a challenging manner.

“ I know that’s not true, I know you stopped somewhere and got into a little trouble lets just say.”

“I don’t know what your talking about at all sir, like I said I just got off the road right now.”

I then notice the rest of the bar patrons and the bartender take notice of the conversation. I put my hands up like I don’t quite know what’s going on. They all give me a weird look and then start belly laughing at me, like Santa Claus, just much more menacing laughs. At this point, I feel like retaliating at the guy.

“No, like I told you, I saw you off the road once before and now I see you here, trying to make things all better with alcohol!” His temper flares more with this remark and now considering the kind of day that I’ve had and with the alchohol running through my system, I’m certainly pissed off at him now.

“Whatever pal! I don’t know what the hell you‘re talking about!” I say, as I get up from my seat in a sudden manner and leave the scene.

As I’m leaving, I hear him say a few words that still haunt me.

”I’m sure your sleep won’t be soundly tonight, not with the guilt that’s brewing in your mind,” he said behind me.

I didn’t even bother to turn around, I just have to get the hell out of there, as quick as I can.

As I speed down the freeway, with the beat up car, my mind races for answers, about what just happened. “Who was that?” I think to myself, and then start thinking that I must now find out who knows about this.

It still never even passes through my mind that I should turn myself in, I never even begin to think about that. I simply must think positive.

“Alright,” I think to myself. He can’t follow me everywhere, I’ll just leave the car in a secure, safe place so no-one will question the dents and then I’ll hitchhike to a motel. My mind contiues racing.

“How in the hell does he know who I am,” I say to myself outloud? He doesn’t look like anyone I know or saw at the station. Who is he?

“Does he look like the gas station attendant?” I think about it for awhile and then cross that one off, that man was more obese, this man looks different.

I also know he doesn’t look like the gaudy guy, or the stunning guy, both of which I remember so vividly since this was right before what happened. This guy looks different.

This man looks like, he looks like… I can’t quite picture what he looks like, I just don’t remember.

I don’t feel bad. At least not drunk. Say what time is it anyway, I think to myself and then I look at the clock.

11:15 the clock reads. “Shit,” I say again outloud, “it’s not even a new day yet, I can’t even put this day behind me.”

I need something to calm myself, so I turn on the radio, something that I should have done long ago, I soon find out.

I start flipping the channels and as the static catches to a new frequency, nothing catches my interest. I then just settle for the news, which is almost over anyway.

The news channel blares in my car, I’m not sure which one, as I’m not from around here and my mind then begins to drift. But then my ear catches something that wakes me up.

“A local man was a victim of a hit and run, a few hours ago at a local gas station…”

I then turn it up even louder, till my ears almost bleed. The program continues, as I listen as attentively as I have ever listended before.

“…The man, an unidentified man wearing soldier clothes, was crossing the street in a crosswalk at the time of the accident.”

My mind started thinking about this man, a man that just was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I killed someone and I should be in jail now, I killed someone and I shouldn’t be aloud freedom anymore. I killed a soldier, a man that fights for freedom and he’s unidentified because of me. I messed him up so bad there won’t be an open casket funeral. As I’m thinking this news goes on to say…

‘”He was helped by the patrons of the gas station, yet oddly after the high-speed accident, he just stood up and left, still not saying a word. Police where notified, yet charges are impending and it is still not quite clear about the events that took place; except that the vehicle involved in the accident probably did speed away without paying for their gas. Whether the accident was on purpose is still a mystery as no one knows the identity of the car. But police suspect that there will be visible damage on the front end of the car.

I hear this and start thinking to myself, you mean I didn’t kill him, he’s not dead. I breathe a sigh of relief, as I realize that noone is coming to look for me for a manslaughter charge. “Thank Christ,” I say to myself, but I then also start thinking, well, who was that at the bar?

I need to go somewhere and get “a long night’s sleep,” I start repeating that to myself, “a long night’s sleep is what I need.” I just need to put the car somewhere, they’ll still be looking for it and I should’ve done this a long-time ago, as back then I just wasn’t thinking clearly. But where can I put it?

I then get an idea like a flashbulb in my brain. I’ll put the car a while off in a deserted stretch of desert that I can get too easy and then I’ll hitchhike to a hotel.

The option sounds good enough considering my options. I need to find a stretch of desert right away to put the car in and then everything will be fine. I then set out to execute my plan.

[countchocula]

I don't have time to read all of it, but what I did read was a marked improvement over the last story you posted. The grammar is more coherent and the character's inner dialogue is communicated in a realistic manner. I don't know if the use of present tense works, though. It doesn't sound fluid. It comes off as disjointed and jars the flow of the narrative. Take this excerpt, for instance...

"I take a breath, light a cigarette and look up to the sky, like I’m looking into god’s watchful eye. I then confess."

Why would he say that? Why would he say to the reader, "I then confess."? Don't sacrifice common sense just for the sake of waxing poetic.

Well, that's all I have for now. Good work, my friend.

[Horror]

Thanks Count, it really means alot.


I'm definitely in the learning process of writing fiction, or even, just writing in general. But it comes easier and hopefully gets better with each story and review that I do. So your comments, as well as others, better my writing.


Once again, Thank You!

[countchocula]

Yeah, one of the best ways to become a better writer is to...write. A lot. I should write more than I do.

[Horror]

To move the story along, I found a field in no time and after I parked I got a hitch. Velma Smith was her name and she was sure a nice lady. We talked for a while, mostly about this and that, but that initial conversation is not really important. It’s when we pulled over for gas, just before I was about to get into the hotel, that I got a feeling in my stomach that I couldn’t shake.

First I should mention that it was awfully sweet of her to go to the trouble of picking me up at this hour, not knowing who I could’ve been. I could’ve been a killer or something, which was what I thought I was, earlier tonight, but now I’m just a common criminal on the run from the law.

So, like out of fate, she about reaches empty on the the gas meter of her car, minutes away from the hotel. The gas stations at the same exit as the hotel, so when we reached a gas station, I couldn’t say that I didn’t want her to stop, because she was so sweet to me on the ride.

Even though it wasn’t the same one earlier today , it still sent my thoughts turning to the prior events of the day, out of my guilt.

After she pumped, she went in a payed, as my guts still felt like they were turning in my stomach.

I watched her get in line and pay and for a moment I was in an almost deep sleep, which was surprising after the events that happened today. But then a loud, sudden rapt on the car window woke me up and made me scream.

“Hello, again, did I scare you? I didn’t mean to scare you, I guess someone’s is just a little spooked today, isn’t he?” The man from the bar said with a raised finger that was moving back in forth in a taunting manner

“What do you want?” I say in an almost whisper voice, that I thought is probably blocked by the heavy car-door.

“It should be apparent to you, what I want is what you did to me. What I want from you, what do you think…is death!”

Now his threat seems serious. My blood runs cold.

“No! You’re just some crazy guy, the news said I didn’t kill anyone. Anyone! You hear? Anyone!” I say to him and I notice even the people in the store can hear me, even Velma who is looking at me with a weird look.

“That’s no way to talk to me, I know you don’t know who I am, but you will, by the time the night’s out.”

“Fuck you!”

“With that aggression, you will probably kill again.” The man says, I then notice that I still can’t quite make out who he is, as the shadows of the night are playing on his face. Then, I remember the reason I couldn’t make him out in the bar, as there some person’s shadow seemed to play off his face, concealing him.

“What the hell are you going to do!” I say this but I’m scared to death, as I haven’t moved in my car seat yet.

His smile grows wider, as Velma comes out of the store with the most befuddled look on her face. She gives me a look, like she wants me out of her car right now. I’ve obviously crossed the line.

“Are you ok?” She stammers, while getting her keys out of her jean pocket.

My throats too choked up from being scared to answer properly. “Yes,” I say, as I look to my side and then see that the man’s gone.

“Who where you talking to?” She says in s slightly bitchy tone; she didn’t seem the type to give that. But, I could understand this type of tone under the circumstances.

“I was just…” but before I could answer a shot rang out in the air.

The first bullet hit Velma’s jugular vein and blood spurted out of it like a pipe that just got spilt in two with an axe. The stream of blood shoots out of it a few feet in the air; she then holds her hand to the hole in panic, as if she can plug the wound and stop the bleeding.

When she does hold her hand to it, trying to plug it out of panic, blood still streams out between her fingers, as she begins to cough up even a little bit more blood and froth from her mouth. She then collapses quickly to her knees. Giving out a sort of gurgled moan and then completely falls onto the ground in a bloody heap.

The whole thing probably took less then two seconds, but like the accident it seemed to stretch an eternity. Then more shots rang out into the air.

These shots tore the rest of her body up. They hit her twice in the chest, heart side, in which a blood spurted out of the open wounds. Then the remaining two shots struck her, one square in the forehead, the other in the jaw. Skull fragments and brain tissue seemed to jump out of her head onto the concrete behind her. Then more shots rang out. This time they were concentrated to the rest of the people in the store.

The clerk got one in the stomach and he mouthed out a scream, but with no words, as he slumped down to the floor, clutching his stomach, out of my sight. The other customers ran and ducked for cover.

Thankfully the rest of the shots missed them, I saw, as I was tranced to a standstill. I didn’t now what to do, I had no idea. I feared the shots would also be directed towards me. I then looked for the shooter; I knew who it was, but I still looked for him.
He stepped his body out of the shadows, from the corner of the windowed store. More shadows concealed his face. He took a few more steps forward, smiled, and looked down at his gun, that he clutched in is hand. He then threw it to me and disappeared.

When the gun hit the ground, I jumped, like the gun itself was attacking me. I start thinking to myself, “What can I do now?”

I run and grab the car keys from Velma’s cold, dead hand; that she luckily had in her grip when she was shot. Then, I drive the hell away. Simply, the only thing in my mind is to get the hell-out-of-dodge, right now.

As I’m driving away, my heads simply a blank, like I’m trying to hide the truth from myself. My thoughts turn to jelly inside my head, I also feel like I’m going to vomit again.

It is then that it hits me. I then realize that with all the confusion, that I forgot to grab the gun. It’s quite obvious he might be trying to frame me for murder. But I don’t think it matters though, because it’s not my prints on the gun, I wasn’t the shooter. Should I go back? I didn’t hurt anyone, so they can’t trace the earlier incidents to me. Could they? But what if they ask me where my car is? What would I tell them then?

As I continue speeding, I take a few moments and begin to think clearer. I realize that once again, I’m in a car that’s part of a crime scene. Now, I’m sure no one got my plates. But, what if there are cameras in the parking lot that could see what car it was that I drove away with.

Well the good news is if there’s cameras in the parking lot, it proves that I didn’t have the gun or kill those people. It looks like I just panicked and drove away, I don’t think that that can connect me to my car accident earlier today, anyway.

I start then thinking, what did I do to deserve this? My mind feels out of the loop and I’m racking my brain for answers.

The car starts moving faster, to 79 miles an hour.

I continue thinking that it couldn’t be because of my gas freebies, could it, god? God, what did I do to deserve this? What can I do to make things all better? What can I do? Tell me!

“God Damnit! God Damnit!” I yell. Then a voice responds to my protest.

“Damn it indeed, you are damned indeed.” Followed by a cackle that sounds off in the back of my car. I know that laugh, by now, I know it well. I look into the rear-view mirror and I see for the first time the face behind that cackle. It was the true face of evil.

“You’re the most unlucky man in the world,” the psycho man said.

“What? How the hell did you get back there, you…” my voice catches myself out of fear.

“Let me guess, you; asshole, prick, or your favorite saying that you’ve been calling me, inside your head…. psycho.”

“Inside my head, what are you talking about?” I’m once again scared completeley, as I continue wondering how this psycho got in the back seat of my car.”

“ There that word is again. Psycho! You so harshly say, but you don’t know anything about me”

“Get out of my car!”

“Maybe I should explain, see I’m a minion, sent from a far off place in the center of the earth.”

“Great, I’m losing my head; I’m completely out of my fucking mind.”

“Big words for such a dumb individual, I bet you don’t know that the police are onto you by now.”

“I didn’t hurt anyone, you did!

“Actually technically you hurt all those people, at least in this world. It was revenge I take on you now for what you did to my temporary earth body and of course hell is where you go to for the gas station massacre.”

“What I did, to who?” I’m absolutely stunned at the conversation.

“As you should know dear boy, a devil or a demon can posses a sinning soul at any time.”

“Ok?”

“I possessed a man by the name of Jack Gotfryd; an army man on his way home to his small town. See, we got into Gotfryd, because he did some very bad things over seas, unspeakable things. I was on my way to kill someone there, a quite attractive man. This man was donating large quantities of money to the Vatican and I tried to kill him there. That is until you ran into my vessel and sent me back to hell for a moment. You certainly didn’t gain anything from it, you just left my master, and me, just very mad.

“ No, I didn’t kill anyone, no one died. They said it on the news.”

“Well you did, I’ve just been keeping it unknown to you, so that you get careless. You even killed the people in the gas station, unknowingly; I didn’t posses you, you did those things yourself.”

“Why would I kill Velma, she gave me a ride.”

“She was onto you, you where actually watching her make a phone call to the police. You also found Velma’s gun in her dashboard, as well as her police badge. You found she was an off-duty police officer, at the time.”

I then start getting images flashed back to me. Me finding the gun and using it on Velma, me then turning it to the other people at the station. My mind goes back farther and I see the man get smeared on my windshield, blood flying everywhere.

“Like the book says, “thou shall not kill.” Those who do meet my master in the after life.” He then disappears, with a smile on his face.

As he said this, my foot hits the gas uncontrollably, sending the car to speed up to about 92 MPH. I can’t control the car at all and I quickly then see, looming in the distance, is a divider block, dividing the two freeway exits.

Ten seconds to impact- I panic and start screaming at the top of my lungs.

Six seconds to impact- I stop screaming and begin to control myself. I then find I still can’t control the car.

Three seconds to impact- I get an idea and reach for my seat-belt strap, that I wasn’t wearing. My only option.

Two seconds to impact-I fumble with the seat belt momentarily and then I finally snap in into place.

½ A second to impact- I simply brace for impact, as the words, “holy shit, I’m going to die,” echo in my mind.


Impact.

The car crash didn’t go well, but I survived, sorta. The seat belt didn’t hold and I went flying through the windshield. My guts are now spilled out on the concrete.

As my life drips from me, slowly like a facet during winter, I realize I’m going to die.

I hope that when the demon reveled himself to me, that it was just part of my drunk, worried, confused and guilt-driven imagination.

But I’m still not sure what lies beyond in the end of my life. Because, wouldn’t it of killed me right then, if he wanted, yet I swear I had no control over the car.

Or, in someway did I just try to kill myself, to save myself from jail?

But until I die, I took this time to repent my sins. I know no one will find me until I’m dead on this desert road.

And though I don’t know what’s going to happen, I do know that I’m scared. As I finish the last hit of this cigarette, and then, like I’m hit by the thuderbolt of god, my life comes to an end.


I now know what happened to me.Do you?









Copyright 2005, N.G. Schwab

[Horror]

Allright, sorry I deleted the last post.

I have mailed this to the copyright office already a while ago, so I think I'm ok to post it again.


Anyways, I will not delete this again, sorry I have deleted the last two stories so quick, I just get paranoid, which is just my cautious nature.


Well, please give me your comments, both bad and good are appreciated, as they will help me hone my craft and hopefully make me a kick ass writer someday.


Above is a heavily edited version, as I just took out about 2,500 words from my story, because I thought that the story seemed to just kinda drag on in the beggining, So admittley the prose at first seems a little disjointed and is something I plan to fix later this week.

I'll even be more honest and I think my story kinda, well, sucks. But, it is the first story that I finished in about six years, as well as only the third story that I've attempted, so I hope it shows at least a shread of potential.

But, with that said, I still hope you like it and please give my your opinions, good and bad.

[ERIN_LoJ]

Very good job Horror :) The only thing I would maybe think of altering or removing would be using the word "you" much. It kind of can take some readers out of the story and is a uncommon method used in most stories. Otherwise, very good work!

[Horror]

Thanks Erin, it truly means alot.


I see as I look at it again, it seems every other dialogue scene, I use the word "you."

Does it matter, if it's just mainly in the dialogue and someone is referring to someone else, or is it a pretty sizable error?


I can change it no problem and once again thanks for the kind words and the helpful advice.