This is my entry for the WritersDomain 2017 scary story contest.
Where am I going?
The old truck rattled in its seniority, unable to keep the rain from dripping in through weathered seals. The driver was rough, shadowed far past 5 o’clock, and smelled every bit as much as he looked freshly exhumed from wormy earth.
“Hope you wasn’t walkin’ too long in all this. Saw your car back a ways so I was lookin’ out for someone.” His tone was all gravel and pavement. I said nothing.
The rain made the road slick and shiny and the headlights almost useless. The lightning was blinding every time it gave me a terrifying snapshot of the surrounding forest. The dark had a way of twisting even the most benign and beautiful things into counterfeit demons.