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Semi-short: Getting Their Kicks on Route 666


Maelstrom5

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Here's a short story I won a horror contest with in October of '03. Submit your short stories to contests - yes, there's often a fee involved (like $10.00 in my case), but if you win, you get published. I also have 3 novel manuscripts I'm trying to get out there. All discussion & comments on this story or writing horror/sci-fi are welcomed. Let me know what you think...

- Jillian

Getting Their Kicks on Route 666

The Cadillac's headlights sliced into the darkness, painting the asphalt a sickly yellow-gray. Jessica clung to the wheel, her knuckles white, guiding the car in and out a series of loose curves that led toward Shiprock, New Mexico. Her boyfriend, Steve, slept in the seat beside her, his face and close-cropped blond hair tinged a pale green by the dashboard lights. She returned her attention to the road.

Empty desert flowed past on both sides of the Caddy. They were all alone on the stretch of highway. The steady thrum of tires on the road didn’t help soothe her nerves like it normally did, and she wished they’d taken a different route.

"Steve! Damnit, wake up." She needed conversation - badly.

"Hunnhhh?" He opened his bloodshot eyes and blinked at her like a little kid,

sitting up in his seat. "Where are we?"

"Just past Gallup, heading for Shiprock. Stay awake and keep me company. I'm kinda creeped out."

"Why?"

"Oh, I don’t know; a little company would be nice," she replied, her voice quavering a little more than she liked. "You're the one that wanted to drive straight home after the wedding, so now it’s your job to keep me awake before I nod off and kill us both. This highway, though, I don’t know why you insisted on coming this way.”

He sighed. "It's the shortest route home. We’ve been through here before and nothing happened then, so quit worrying."

"Yes, but last time we went through here it was during the day," she pointed out, trying to keep her voice from sounding shrill. "It’s scary driving in the desert at night. You never know what might happen. We could break down." Outside the car, the night seemed to press up against the windows.

Steve shrugged and covered his mouth, a poor attempt at smothering a grin. "Might as well have some noise, then." He bent down to turn on the radio and pressed the seek button. At first they heard nothing but static, and then came an ear-splitting chirp-screech. A few more clicks later, Steve found a country station with a weak signal. Then, to her dismay, Hank Williams Senior began bawling out "Jambalaya."

Jessica shut the noise off with a quick stab of her finger. "Sorry, but I can't take that right now," she said. "What I need is more coffee."

Steve shook his head. "No you don't. You're already wired enough as it is and there isn't a bathroom for another fifty miles." He scrunched down into his seat and arched his back, trying to get comfortable. Jessica looked away from the hypnotic, flashing yellow stripe in the center of the road to glance at him. His eyelids threatened to close.

"So, what did you think of Laura and Tom’s Halloween wedding?” She went on. “Laura looked pretty wild in that neon green gown, don't you think? It made her skin look a little too pinkish, though."

He snapped his eyes wide open, then he yawned. "Radioactive, more like. Killer party afterward, though, that's for sure. I wasn't too wild about the 'Alien' theme, but what can you expect from two people born and raised in Roswell?"

Jessica laughed but kept her iron grip on the wheel. "Seems like all of our old friends are getting married off." She glanced over at Steve, wondering if he got the hint.

His nose wrinkled in disgust and then he turned away to stare out at the flatness of the darkened desert plain. "Umm, yeah. They have no clue what they've done, and now it's too late."

She ground her teeth, but said nothing. Pressing the gas pedal, she drove on, notching the car up to eighty. A sign went by in the window, announcing the highway’s name: U.S. Route 666.

In the distance before her, Jessica noticed a faint silvery glow appearing on the horizon. The moon readied itself to make a welcome appearance. She silently thanked both God and Mother Nature for the meager light.

"Strange that they'd name this highway Route 666 to start with," Steve said, for once breaking the awkward silence. "I heard its being renamed U.S. 491, though. Maybe then you can relax next time we come through here."

"You think I’ve got the jitters for no reason, but there's been quite a few bad accidents out this way," she replied. "You know that." She felt the alluring pull of sleep and wished they’d decided to stay the night in Roswell. Steve, the big baby, wanted to head back home to Durango as soon as possible. Now, as she fought to keep her own eyes open, a plague of ridiculous, paranoid thoughts slipped into her mind, unbidden. Thoughts of things, dark and feathery, scratching at the glass.

"There was a bad accident here, last year around this time," she went on, wanting to distract her overactive imagination. "You probably don’t remember, but there was a couple with their four kids riding down this road in a minivan. They were on their way back from Gallup after a Halloween party and the van flipped over for no apparent reason. It ended up in a ditch."

"So?" Steve said, looking unconcerned. "Accidents happen everywhere - on roads all over the world."

"Every single one of them were killed." She let the words hang there, sounding like an accusation.

He frowned and his voice took on a more serious tone. "Yeah, I heard about it. The locals think skin-walkers and witches walk this road, and if you don't respect them, they'll toss your car right off the highway." He looked over at her, narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice. "If you're lucky, you'll survive the wreck, but not if you drive through here at night. Why? Because the skinwalkers will come to get you and gnaw on your pretty little bones…" He wiggled his fingers at her and gave a deep laugh that rolled out in a loud 'Muuhahahaha...'

"Knock it off," she said, wanting to smack him. "That's not funny."

He smiled and turned away, enjoying her nervousness. "Just drive on, Scaredy-woman. I want to get home sometime tonight." Nestling into the seat, he closed his eyes once more.

Jessica left him alone and forced herself to concentrate on the road. Soon, she found herself staring off into the darkness. To keep herself occupied, she began tallying the green mile markers as she passed them. Number 186 came up on the right and flashed by in the window, past Steve's nodding head. A second later, to her surprise, the headlights picked up the shape of a small person standing in the emergency lane.

“What the hell -?” Jessica touched the brake, and as she drew closer, she could make out the distinctive conical form of a tall, pointed witch’s hat sitting atop the figure's head. She stared at the figure as she slowed down. The child, or at least the child-sized person, wore what looked like an ugly green plastic mask. The Caddy rolled past the figure and she got a good look at the mask’s big green nose and a set of thick red lips twisted into a wry grin.

She drew in a sharp breath. "What's a kid doing out here in the middle of nowhere? Steve, did you see that?”

Steve snored in reply and nuzzled against the seat cushion.

"Wake up," she said, and slowed the car down to pull over onto the brushy shoulder of the highway. Letting the car idle, she shook Steve awake.

He sat up again and rubbed his eyes, irritated. "For God's sake, Jess. What is it now?"

She turned and looked over her shoulder, through the back window at the pitch-black road behind them. "I saw a kid by the side of the road, wearing a costume."

He looked up at her with a raised eyebrow. "Are you still drunk?"

"No, you idiot. She was there. I saw her!" Without waiting for another cute comment from him, Jessica opened the car door and stepped out into the stillness of the desert night. Cool, dry wind caressed her face and in every direction she looked, soft sand stirred in the darkness. Her high heels clicked on the asphalt as she took a few steps away from the car.

"Hello? Little girl?" she called, cupping her hands over her mouth. "Are you there?"

"Jess, will you get back in the car? There's no one out there."

She heard Steve climb out from the other side of the car and come around to join her. Jessica took a few more steps down the emergency lane in the direction where she’d seen the child standing.

Steve's boots crunched through gravel as he followed her. "What are you doing? Get back in the car.”

She shook her head. The frigid air caused goose bumps to rise on her arms and she rubbed them, wishing she'd thought to grab her coat. Steve came to stand beside her and jammed his hands into his pockets. The desert tended to drop in temperature at night, but not normally like this .

"Let's go home, okay?" he said, his breath coming out in faint puffs of steam.

"I'm telling you there was a child standing by the highway. She's still out here, somewhere." She took another couple of steps forward.

"You're hallucinating. I think it's time to let me drive."

Jessica stopped, hearing the sound of something besides Steve tromping through the gravel. She shushed him with a wave of her hand and pressed an upraised finger to her lips. He opened his mouth to say something and then snapped it shut.

"Little girl?" Jessica said, trying to sound gentle while shivering from equal doses of fear and cold. Her voice shook. "It's okay, we won't hurt you. Are you lost?" The crunching sound grew louder, and she couldn’t tell how far away it was. Sound seemed to carry in strange ways out here in the badlands.

Steve cocked his head to one side, looking like the RCA dog listening to a Victrola. "You're right, there is someone there," he whispered. "But what if that isn't a kid in a Halloween costume?"

"Right, Steve. What the hell else could it be? A midget serial killer? Maybe someone dumped her out here. We have to do something." She strained her eyes, scanning the road. Then, afer a couple of seconds passed, she spotted a small, shadowy form shuffling toward them in the darkness. She held still.

The figure came closer.

When it came within several yards of Jessica, she drew in a deep breath and then released it.

It is a child.

"I stand corrected," Steve muttered.

As she watched, the tiny figure, dressed in a long black gown with a pointy hat, stepped into view. Before long, it was bathed in the red wash from the Caddy's taillights.

"It’s her," Jessica whispered. "See, I told you." She inched forward, slowly, so as not to startle the child. The girl in the witch costume came a few paces closer and Jessica heard a soft mewling sound. "I think she’s crying."

Steve backed up a few steps, then a few more. Jessica glared at him, annoyed. "Where are you going?"

"This is too weird, Jess. There’s no reason for a kid to be out here, wandering alone. Something’s not right. Let’s go." He retreated to his side of the car and waited there.

She rolled her eyes. Steve could be such a dumb ass. She turned back toward the approaching figure. "We can’t just leave her here." The child came to stop, now only a few feet away. Jessica studied the girl’s outfit.

The costume looked like something a witch might wear – both dirty and ragged, it appeared to be made of ancient black taffeta. A strong smell swirled around the child, reminding Jessica of dried sage. The herbal scent was bitter and earthy, but not altogether unpleasant. She squatted down to make herself the same height as the child, but the little girl remained where she stood.

"Hey, kid," Steve said, sounding shaken, "What are you doing out here all by yourself?"

The child didn't reply. Instead, she took another step forward and Jessica could make out more details of the molded mask that covered the child’s face. A warty, beak-like nose hooked out and down, the tip nearly touching the chin. The rubber mouth twisted to the side in a leering, toothy smile. The mask’s eyeholes looked at first to be empty, but Jessica sensed movement within the slotted holes, dark irises of the eyes within focusing on her and Steve at the same time.

She reached out a hand to the little girl. "Would you like a ride to the next town? We can't take you directly to your house, but we could bring to you a police station and they'll help you find your way home."

The child nodded, mask and hat bobbing at the same time. She raised her thin arm and a tiny, pale hand emerged from a draped sleeve and folded around Jessica’s. The skeletal fingers felt icy to the touch and Jessica fought the urge to recoil.

Of course she’s cold, you idiot, she scolded herself. The poor thing’s been stuck out here for several hours or more. Some Halloween night this is turning out to be.

Steve kept his distance as she led the child to the car and opened the back door. The girl crawled inside and settled in with a rustle of the ancient-looking taffeta. She held still, quiet and obedient while Jessica fastened the seatbelt around her.

When the belt snapped closed, Jessica patted the child on one bony knee. "There. You’ll be just fine now. We’ll get someone to help you, so don’t be afraid."

The child remained quiet and impassive behind the rubber mask. The point of the tall hat brushed the cloth on the car’s ceiling, making a faint rasping noise. Jessica reached up to remove the mask from the girl’s face, but the girl drew back sharply and shook her head.

"No! Don’t touch that," she said. Her voice rang out high and clear, and had an odd resonance to it that Jessica had never heard before. For a split second, it seemed as if there were tiny, whispering voices echoing the words. Jessica backed away, wondering if the mask had some kind of weird effect on the child’s voice. She got in behind the wheel and slammed the car door.

Steve climbed in beside her and buckled up, then slammed his door shut, hard. He gave her a nasty look then relaxed it when he turned to appraise their passenger in the back seat. "So, kid, what’s your name?"

The child remained quiet, as if she hadn’t heard him. Jessica watched the rubber mask in the rearview mirror. The girl didn’t even flinch when he repeated the question.

“Fine,” he said, giving up. “Don’t talk to me then.” He furrowed his brow and gave Jessica a hard-eyed glare. "And before you ask, no we can't keep her."

"Get serious," She said, then gunned the engine and took the Caddy back out onto the highway, pedal to the floor. The sooner they got to Shiprock, the sooner they could hand the child over for someone else. Steve was visibly angry with her, and she found herself silently agreeing with him. The child was very quiet, and that was downright odd.

She focused on the road. A brown sign shot past, telling her that they had sixty-five miles to go before they reached Shiprock. Even if she punched the speedometer up to ninety, it would still take them three quarters of an hour.

Steve gave a wary glance first at the girl, then at the speedometer. "I know we’re in a hurry, but you don’t have to kill us before we get there."

She eased up on the gas pedal. One strand of her curly hair came loose from her chignon and dangled in front of her right eye. She tucked it behind her ear. "Hang in there," she said, speaking to the child. "It won’t be long and you’ll be in safe hands."

Again, the child gave no reply. Steve turned the radio on. Garth Brooks began wailing from the car’s speakers, singing "Thunder Rolls."

Time passed, and after a while, Jessica peeked over at Steve. He sat there in silence, jaw jutting forward, and now officially wide awake. Before long the moon rose, fat and silver as it crept up over a scattering of bald hills that lined the horizon. The child’s presence permeated the car, and Jessica could almost feel the girl’s gaze bore into the back of her neck. The smell of something else now mingled with the scent of dry sage and she identified it as mold. The kind of mold found on rotted, moth-eaten clothing.

She watched the road unfurling before her. In the periphery of her vision, Steve’s lips remained pressed into a thin white line. Suddenly he sat forward, eyes wide. "Look at that," he said, raising a shaking hand to point toward her side of the car. "Look at the sky, through your window! Now that's the damnedest thing I ever saw!"

Jessica turned to look at what he was pointing at, and when she saw it, she gasped.

Off to the west, the sky glowed like a distant forest fire burning beyond the edge of the desert. "Looks like a bomb went off," she said, "except for the…"

"It’s blue," Steve finished for her. He pulled his jacket tighter around him and sank deeper into his seat. “Like a giant methane gas flame."

Jessica tore her gaze away from the sight and she shrieked when she saw that her car had wandered over into the oncoming lane. She jerked the wheel to the right and recovered, putting the Caddy back on course. Steve gripped the dashboard and looked stricken.

"Sorry," she offered.

"Scary!" The girl said, in her high-pitched, multi-faceted voice. "Trick or treat."

"What is that light?" Jessica said. "Little girl, do you know what that is? Is there a power plant or something out that way?" Her hands shook as they gripped the wheel. Sweat gathered in between her fingers. She found it strange that the mask didn’t muffle the girl’s voice in the least.

"That makes sense," Steve mumbled, and seemed to relax. "It could be a power plant. Those lights are awful blue, though."

"It’s witch-light," the girl said in a hoarse whisper.

Jessica felt an icy needle of fear shoot up and into the base of her skull. Maybe putting the girl in the back seat hadn’t been such a good idea. "What’s a witch-light?"

"I dressed like a witch so they wouldn't get me," the girl replied, smoothly avoiding Jessica’s question. "I don’t want them to catch me. I want my Mommy."

"Ah, so you’re feeling talkative now," Steve said, without looking back.

Jessica reached over and gave him a pinch to quiet him. "Where does your mommy live?" she asked, trying very hard to keep from staring at the witch-light or whatever the hell it was. It seemed to call her and something deep inside her wanted to answer. A shifting of taffeta and a low whine came from the back seat.

The girl is frightened, she thought, and she isn’t the only one. She sneaked another glance at the blue light and stifled a scream when she saw that the light had increased in intensity, like dawn returned, and reached further into the sky with wispy violet tendrils. "I’m scared, Steve. I don’t know what that is, but it can’t be good. It’s growing." She felt her foot press down further on the gas pedal, as if it had a mind of its own.

Steve could only stared past her at the light, shocked into silence.

"Trick or treat," the girl said.

Jessica looked up at the rearview mirror at the child and saw that the girl had removed the hat. A short bob of dark hair now framed the hideous mask. "Are you okay?” Jessica asked. “You’re safe in here with us. Don’t worry, we won't let any witches get you."

The eyes within the mask’s eyeholes blinked. They looked for a moment like solid black, lifeless stones framed by pale white eyelids.

Now I know I’m hallucinating, she thought. Forcing her attention back on the road, she saw another sign approach. It read: Sixty-five miles to Shiprock. "Wait a minute," she said, “Didn’t the last sign we passed say we had sixty-five miles to go?"

Steve shrugged. "I didn’t notice." He leaned forward to get a better look at the witch-light. "But, on the other hand, we’ve been riding now for over half an hour, by my watch. We should be at least halfway there by now." He glanced at the clock on the dashboard just to double check. "Yep, we’ve been riding for a good thirty-five minutes since we picked up the kid."

Jessica’s stomach tightened. The light crawled slowly overhead and she could now see it through the windshield. The sky wasn’t any solid color. Myriad hues of blue and purple blended together and then shredded apart. It looked like a living thing, both shifting and breathing, and had an opalescent sheen to it. "I can’t believe that there aren’t more people out here, just to watch this. It reminds me of the northern lights, yet it’s thicker, and more solid somehow..."

"I guess we can safely rule out the power plant theory," he replied. Then, he turned to look back at the child. Without warning, his voice rose with an edge of pure terror in it. "Let’s pull over and get this kid out of the car. She’s seriously freaking me out. There’s something really weird about her eyes."

"Steven, chill out - it’s just the mask. Leave the poor kid alone.” She felt the urge to cry. Steve freaking out on her was the last thing she needed. “The light is probably some kind of meteor shower or something. Didn’t we just have a really bad solar flare? It’s just got you weirded out that’s all. The kid’s going with us to Shiprock and that’s all there is to it." Jessica couldn’t believe what he’d said. Put a child out of the car, out in the middle of the desert! Has he lost his mind?

The girl moved forward and spoke. “They’ll be here soon.” The words came out in a cold rush of air that caressed Jessica’s neck. She shivered. The entire inside of the car felt chilly.

"Who will be here soon?" she asked, weaving the Caddy through another series of curves that reminded her of the set she’d run through earlier. She shook off the twinge of déjà vu.

"Trick or treat," said the girl, who then gave a low whimper. "Better put your witch suits on."

"Okay," Steve said, spinning around to face the child. "You’re about two seconds from getting put out."

"Sit down," Jessica hissed. A flash of movement on the highway caught her eye. "Look! I think I see something ahead of us, out on the road."

He squinted out at the oncoming highway. "What? I don’t see anything."

Jessica raised one shaking finger from one of her fists that clenched the steering wheel. “It’s up ahead and I can’t tell if it’s on the road, standing or on a hill beside it."

He leaned forward, both hands on the dashboard again. "I can’t see anything. Maybe it’s an antelope. They’re all over the place out here."

"It’s not an antelope," she said. "I can’t quite make it out, but…" She left the thought unfinished.

The blue light didn’t seem to cast any illumination onto the road. Rather, it loomed overhead and should have lit up the desert like the rising sun. But, it did no such thing. Instead, the barren wasteland remained dark and she couldn’t figure it out. The light did, however, cast a faint blue glow onto a man-sized thing standing in the middle of the road, maybe a few hundred yards ahead. Her breath caught in her throat.

The car headed straight for the thing in the road. As they careened toward it, Jessica saw that it wasn’t standing in the road, it stood above it.

“Can’t you see it? “ she shouted. “It’s right there!” The headlights washed over a tattered black shadow-thing that floated several feet above the asphalt, its arms spread out in a Christ-like pose. Its dark head tilted forward, chin resting on its chest. She saw the man-shapes then, a long row of them standing on the left side of the road.

She screamed.

"Jess, you’re going way too fast. Pull over! Don’t go freaking out on me." Steve reached to grab the steering wheel, then seemed to think better of it and dropped his hand.

Jessica tried to do as he ordered, but found she couldn’t lift her foot from the gas pedal. Her foot seemed to weigh a thousand pounds. Her heart sped up, matching pace with the Caddy’s three hundred horsepower engine. "I c-can’t move," she said, and let out a loud wail. “Can’t you see them? They’re like… Scarecrows. They’re standing right there!”

The thing hovering over the road snapped its head up and rushed toward them at an impossible speed. It flew over the top of the car and out of sight. Jessica screamed again, and fought to keep the car under control. The speedometer needle ticked a hair over ninety and she couldn’t stop it. Just beyond the windshield, more of the scarecrow things gathered along the edge of the road, their misshapen heads stark black against the blue horizon. “What the hell are they?”

“They’re witches,” the girl replied, her voice low, dripping with dread. “They’ve come for us.”

An unearthly shrieking howl filled the air, high and ululating.

Jessica flinched; the sound froze her blood solid right in her veins. Before she could react, the line of scarecrows shot forward, into the road. Taking to the air, they encircled the speeding Cadillac, flocking around it in a spinning flutter as if the car stood still. The motion made her dizzy as she strained to see the road. She heard a loud, agonizing wail and realized that it came from her own throat.

"Please, Honey, stop the car," Steve cried. He unbuckled his belt and slid over to grab the wheel.

"You must be able to see them now, they’re all around us.” She couldn’t watch the road in front of her any longer, her gaze locked on the feathery things swooping around the windows. A clawed hand raked across the glass beside her.

"It’s too late now, Miss Nice Lady," the girl said, her voice full of sorrow. "But you can use my mask, if you want."

Jessica looked up into the rearview mirror and watched as the child untied the mask and let it slide from her face. Something smacked into the windshield and slid off. The sound of crunching glass demanded her attention, but Jessica couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sight of the girl’s face.

It wasn’t a face, but the remains of one. Precious air fled Jessica’s lungs as she stared into the mirror.

A bleeding, freshly-peeled skull stared back.

"I'm really sorry," the girl said, bare teeth clicking. "The witch suit didn’t work for me, either."

The car swerved, and despite her tense grip on the wheel, Jessica felt the car slipping out of control. She finally turned to look over at Steve. When she saw him, she tried to call his name, but nothing came out of her mouth, save for a thin, keening rasp.

His head stuck out through a gaping hole in the windshield and a dark, gnarled hand with razor claws gripped his neck. It twisted and shook him, trying to work him out through the rent in the bloodied glass.

"I really am sorry," the girl said, again. “I thought this time I’d make it to town. You seemed like such nice people.”

Jessica released the wheel as the shapes closed in, blocking the windshield completely. A black, eyeless face with a gaping mouth full of needle-sharp teeth pressed against her window. A scream tore out from her throat. The car shot off the road and glass shattered on all sides as it flipped end over end.

The last thing she saw was the ghostly blue light receding from the night sky.

****

Deputy Sheriff Jake McKee and his partner, Ellis Bodaway stared at the crumpled remains of the long black car. The metal sizzled in the morning sun, still hot from the fire caused by the leaking gas tank. They’d doused it as soon as they’d arrived, after the wreck had been called in by a passing trucker.

"Nice ride," Bodaway said, with an appreciative whistle. "Cadillac El Dorado. Too bad."

"Must’ve fell asleep at the wheel," McKee replied. "That happens a lot around here. I think it’s road hypnosis." He bent down and peered through the twisted passenger-side door and counted only two scorched bodies in the car, both wearing seatbelts. "And, those belts don’t help much when the roof caves in and the vehicle blows the hell up." In all reality, the belts never helped in a serious wreck. People kidded themselves if they thought otherwise.

The two deputies circled the vehicle and traced the furrowed earth back to the point where the

car had skidded from the road. The ambulance and the rescue units were due to arrive to any minute. McKee doubted that they would be in any hurry. There would be no sirens on the way back to the hospital with these two.

Bodaway went to call in the plate number to Dispatch, and McKee overheard the tinny voice relaying the woman’s name and information. The female was named Jessica Sorensen, aged twenty-six, out of Durango, Colorado. He had no idea who the male passenger was, but that information would be sorted out in due time.

Some Halloween, McKee thought. Young couple, and probably drunk, too. Never a good mix.

Bodaway returned after ending the call and took off his hat to finger-comb his thick black hair. "This is the second one in a year that's ended up by the same mile marker," he said.

"Yeah, I noticed that,” McKee replied, shaking his head. "Marker one eighty-six. The minivan rollover. Sheesh, I’ll be glad when they rename this damned highway. It’s bad luck, I tell ya."

Bodaway grinned. "You can change the name but you can’t change the place. It will still be cursed.

At least that’s what the Navajo elders say."

They walked back to the car at the sound of a distant wail of a siren. A flash of bright green beneath a nearby purple sage thicket caught McKee’s eye and he walked over to take a look. He bent down and dug around, trying to free the object. His fingers closed around it and then he pulled. An ugly lime green rubber mask emerged from the sand.

"Take a look at this," he said, and held it up for Bodaway to see.

"It looks old,” Bodaway said. “Think it’s been there a while.”

McKee nodded and let the mask fall from his hands. It landed in the dirt and he forgot about it as soon he walked away to greet the squalling meat wagon.

*****

© Copyright 2003 Jillian Clayton

Edited by Maelstrom5
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Great story :tu: Congrats on winning. I could see it as a good short film, kind of like twilight zone or something.

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Great story :tu: Congrats on winning. I could see it as a good short film, kind of like twilight zone or something.

Thanks, Artymoon - much appreciated. I posted this in the hope that it would spur some discussion on writing horror or sci-fi stories in general, and also I was wondering if anyone here had sent in a story or two to a contest (& if so, how did it go?). There are a couple of really good stories posted on this site already and I was curious if they were previously published or not. I've submitted over 50 short stories about the length of this one to various magazines and contests, and this is the only one that won an actual contest. There's a couple of other short peices I've published but nothing worth throwing a party for.

I suppose contests are a good way of getting people past the jitters and worry over criticism and getting their work published. It's a hard road, but if a writer sticks with it, they'll get somewhere - eventually.

best wishes,

Jillian

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There actually is a Route 666 in Pennsylvania, I've driven on it several times. It doesn't really freak me out though (maybe because I'm an atheist)

Anyway, great story.

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Jillian,

Excellent! Your attention to detail places the readers in the vacant back seat of the Caddy on Hell's highway, adjacent to the stinky, little witch girl. I've always loved tales of the supernatural where the bizarre happenings remain unconfirmed, but trace evidence lends credence to the tragedy.

The pint-sized messenger wouldn't have been sufficiently spooky had her description been limited to the pointy hat and mask. Her lack of responsiveness, the wretched state of, and odors emanating from, her clothing, and indiscernible eyes provided a fuller sensory experience, heightening the mystery. Honestly, I was at the edge of my seat reading this, wondering if she was friend or foe.

In response to your contest submission query, I dealt with a site years ago called Poetry.com. The company operates on the borderline of larceny, but aren't punishable under the law. No matter the quality of one's work (As discovered by a national news network in the U.S.), each "artist" receives a generic template letter advising how much promise he/she possesses as a poet. As I recall, a class of second graders created poems as part of the media investigation and every one of them was declared a winner and invited to the $600 per attendee seminar/award ceremony. I've heard from several sources that the poetry volumes they sell are in such limited supply (Limited to those duped into buying them) that there's absolutely no prestige in being published.

http://windpub.com/literary.scams/

Paying a small fee of $10 up front is usually a sign of a legitimate writing contest. Having one's submissions declined for publication also points to legitimacy.

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There actually is a Route 666 in Pennsylvania, I've driven on it several times. It doesn't really freak me out though (maybe because I'm an atheist)

Anyway, great story.

Thanks for taking a look & for your comments - contests are a good motivation to write. There's a route 666 in Pennsylvania? Now that's interesting... They changed the name of the one in New Mexico because so many of the local inhabitants are very superstitious. There are a lot of legends of bad things happening to people on that highway, and I'd be curious if there are local legends about the one in Penn too.

Thanks again,

Jillian

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In response to your contest submission query, I dealt with a site years ago called Poetry.com. The company operates on the borderline of larceny, but aren't punishable under the law. No matter the quality of one's work (As discovered by a national news network in the U.S.), each "artist" receives a generic template letter advising how much promise he/she possesses as a poet. As I recall, a class of second graders created poems as part of the media investigation and every one of them was declared a winner and invited to the $600 per attendee seminar/award ceremony. I've heard from several sources that the poetry volumes they sell are in such limited supply (Limited to those duped into buying them) that there's absolutely no prestige in being published.

http://windpub.com/literary.scams/

Paying a small fee of $10 up front is usually a sign of a legitimate writing contest. Having one's submissions declined for publication also points to legitimacy.

Yes, I know all about Poety.com - I got suckered by that one a couple of years ago. Supposedly I'd 'won' an award along with a copy of the book containing my poems (crammed in with tons of others at 7-point type). Not only did I have to pay for the 'award,' I had to pay for the book ($47.00) AND admission to the conference/award ceremony they were having in the city where the site is based. I realized then that Poetry.com is nothing more than a vanity publisher posing as a legitimate one, duping thousands of would-poets along the way. I've had poetry published by real magazine before and since then, but I learned from that experience. Poetry.com is good for those who simply want to see their stuff in print (with a magnifying glass), but nothing more. All serious poets should avoid it like the plague. One should be wary of contests, too. I once thought of entering one of my short stories in a 'Win a House!' competition, but the entry fee was $600 American, that's right, $600. I never did scrape up the money and thinking on it later, I never did hear of a 'winner' in that contest. I wonder how many people actually sent in the money? A few did, I'm sure. Scary thought...

Anyway, thanks again for reading & for your comments -

Jillian

Edited by Maelstrom5
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I wouldn't know if there are any legends surrounding the road, but I doubt it. It's up by where I have a cabin, up north a little, hardly any people live there and there are a couple shops right by the road. There doesn't seem to be any talk of it at all, even though you can tell by the road sign It's Route 666. :unsure:

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I wouldn't know if there are any legends surrounding the road, but I doubt it. It's up by where I have a cabin, up north a little, hardly any people live there and there are a couple shops right by the road. There doesn't seem to be any talk of it at all, even though you can tell by the road sign It's Route 666. :unsure:

Oh well, just a thought. As long as your cabin's not haunted, you're good to go ;)

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  • 2 months later...

Hey, I really enjoyed your short story. At first I was just like "hmm, okay" wondering if I would get into it. Then about a third of the way through it, when I realized I was all scared (and I'm sitting at my desk in the middle of the day at work, so it's not a scary time or place), that it's great! That's awesome that you won a contest. I love to write and have been thinking that I should start submitting short stories to contests. I am currently finishing writing a novel that involves skinwalkers (which is how I found this website in the first place). Anyway, spooky story! I hope I see some of your novels in Borders someday! :D

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Hey, I really enjoyed your short story. At first I was just like "hmm, okay" wondering if I would get into it. Then about a third of the way through it, when I realized I was all scared (and I'm sitting at my desk in the middle of the day at work, so it's not a scary time or place), that it's great! That's awesome that you won a contest. I love to write and have been thinking that I should start submitting short stories to contests. I am currently finishing writing a novel that involves skinwalkers (which is how I found this website in the first place). Anyway, spooky story! I hope I see some of your novels in Borders someday! :D

Thanks for reading - glad to hear that the story 'snuck up' on you the way it did, which means it worked :tu:

I hope to get a novel published sometime this year. I've written five manuscripts now and two o them are showing real promise. Good luck on your novel about skinwalkers, let us know here if it gets published soon. I lived in Navajo country for a long, long time, so skinwalkers and other Din'eh legends tend to strike fear in me from time to time.

Thanks for the comments, very much appreciated -

Jillian

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When I saw the name of the story I told myself,"Oh god, another christian/ghost story",

but I read and it was amazing; I loved how you used the words, the story was terrific

didn't really give me chills, but it suprised me because it wasn't what I was expecting.

Even if it don't give you chills it's worth reading. I will try to make a short flash movie

for the story.

Edited by strangebutsmart
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When I saw the name of the story I told myself,"Oh god, another christian/ghost story",

but I read and it was amazing; I loved how you used the words, the story was terrific

didn't really give me chills, but it suprised me because it wasn't what I was expecting.

Even if it don't give you chills it's worth reading. I will try to make a short flash movie

for the story.

I look forward to seeing your flash-movie! Let me me know if you get around to making it. That's OK if you didn't get chills from the story - it's atually very hard to 'scare' people these days with the written word anymore, with all the special effects movies out there. It's hard to scare ME with a story (or even a movie) anymore. I yawned through 'Sixth Sense,' and 'The Ring startled me a few times but didn't scare me. I guess that comes from seeing far too much blood & gore onscreen - desensitization. The best horror, IMO, comes from the unknown, that which we can't see coming to get us.

Best Wishes,

Jillian

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I look forward to seeing your flash-movie! Let me me know if you get around to making it. That's OK if you didn't get chills from the story - it's atually very hard to 'scare' people these days with the written word anymore, with all the special effects movies out there. It's hard to scare ME with a story (or even a movie) anymore. I yawned through 'Sixth Sense,' and 'The Ring startled me a few times but didn't scare me. I guess that comes from seeing far too much blood & gore onscreen - desensitization. The best horror, IMO, comes from the unknown, that which we can't see coming to get us.

Best Wishes,

Jillian

^I am not sure if you will be able to see the flash movie. Because I don't know

If i'm able to turn it into a gif animation, and I still am planning on making a website

with dreamweaver,but the problem is I don't have dreamweaver YET but

I just asked my uncle. He told me that before I used the program; to learn about

HTML, he's telling me this not because I need it to learn it for the program,

(although I might), but for I could be more aware about this stuff Because

it might help me in the future. Sorry, but Its going to take A LOOOOOOOOONNNG TIME

and I'm not exaggerating,but don't worry. you know what they say,

"Better late than Never".

Edited by strangebutsmart
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^I am not sure if you will be able to see the flash movie. Because I don't know

If i'm able to turn it into a gif animation, and I still am planning on making a website

with dreamweaver,but the problem is I don't have dreamweaver YET but

I just asked my uncle. He told me that before I used the program; to learn about

HTML, he's telling me this not because I need it to learn it for the program,

(although I might), but for I could be more aware about this stuff Because

it might help me in the future. Sorry, but Its going to take A LOOOOOOOOONNNG TIME

and I'm not exaggerating,but don't worry. you know what they say,

"Better late than Never".

I just signed up last month to take some web design classes in the fall, including a course on Dreamweaver, Flash, and so on. The Dreamweaver program, I found out, is pretty expensive for the full version. I'm a print designer at the moment, but I'd like to get into web design. Good luck with your website, it should be fun to create even as you're learning.

- Jillian

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  • 2 weeks later...

i am officially not gonna be able to sleep tonight

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