An Unwelcome Return
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By Alexander Moore
- 845 reads
He knew it would not end well. It was inevitable. But he had no choice.
The '78 Dodge Charger chugged to a stop atop the layer of bonfire-red leaves which had covered the road like a premature snowfall. The car was dwarfed by the tall, swaying pine trees at either side of the road. A brisk breeze seeped its way through the compact canopy, swaying the flaky, crumbling trees to the point where it seemed they would finally submit and fall. An uneasy sheet of grey clouds accompanied the breeze, swallowing the light blue sky and glimmering midday sun overhead.
Then the voice arrived in his head. A deep, hoarse, almost evil voice that he had come to know all too well. "I warned you Christopher. I warned you not to return." Christopher gripped the wheel of the car tightly and shook his head, trying to slow his breath, his heartrate, and his growing fear. I could turn back now, he thought. I could leave this job and return home to safety. Return home to family. But before he knew it, the car began to chug forward into motion once again. Down the road of daunting trees, through the sunflame leaves, and passed the peeling green road sign. Town of Ryde-2 Kilometres.
The Charger coursed slowly through the small town. It was no more than two dozen buildings in total, seemingly swallowed by the vast nature of the Colorado countryside. A town which he had grew up in and called home. Until the incident happened.
The streets were baron. He guessed that any residents that still lived here would be at least in their 60s. The town was no place for young adults who had any sense of self worth or goals. It was deceased, like ruins from a bygone era that nature was reclaiming bit by bit. Tree by tree. Leaf by leaf. But the Sheriff had sent him here for a reason. The crime rate had been climbing slowly in the months beforehand, and suspciously steeply for such a small town. Christopher knew the reason. But the Sheriff would never believe him. Nobody would, and nobody had. Not even his own parents all those years ago. But they found out eventually. When it came for them too.
He got out of the car and closed the door behind him. A brisk Autumn wind surrounded him instantly, the breeze ringing the chimes which dangled outside the houses. The only sound heard in the town that evening. A peaceful sound, one which was short lived, as the voice returned. "Christopher", it said slowly and intimidatingly. Then it let out a deep, croaking giggle. "We had a deal." Christopher pulled his long, loose coat tight around his neck as another strong gust of wind bellowed past. He reached into the back of the car and pulled out his deputy hat, and slammed the door shut again. Slicking his hair back, he placed the hat on his head. He gazed down the baron street where the general store and cafe lay, boarded up, but still in business against all odds. Then he turned slowly and looked up into the towering forest behind him. Then he seen it.
A dark figure in the trees about 50 meters from him. Standing rigidly still as the trees around it danced furiously in the wind. A black figure. No features. Just a figure and no more. It was human like, although something was off. Something sinister. Its arms hung low, almost reaching its ankles. Its hands were like the claws of a grizzly. He stared right at it. It stared right back. Right through him. Then the voice in his head returned.
"Oh Christopher when will you learn", it growled. The two maintained the long gaze. "You have broken your terms. There will be consequences." All of a sudden the wind blew a strong, abrupt gush, blowing the sheriff hat from his head and onto the withered concrete underneath. He bent down sharply and snatched it up , returning his gaze deep into the treeline. But it was gone. The time-tested trees stood still. Finished their dance,they stood still. "This is your last chance", the voice croaked. "Leave". Christopher knew he couldn't. He had to finish this. And so he clenched his face and took a deep breath, and began walking towards the nearby stores. "Silly boy", the voice growled, followed by a low laugh.
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Comments
good start with a coming
good start with a coming homne to what? I notice you've used the word 'baron' a couple of times. Once is probably more than you need. Keep wrting.
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Alex, if you mean 'the
Alex, if you mean 'the streets are empty' the conventional spelling is 'barren'. This is a small correction. Your storytelling is good.
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Nice work, very atmospheric
Nice work, very atmospheric and some lovely florid descriptions. I stalled a bit on 'suspiciously steeply'. And I might be tempted to break up paragraphs a bit more, but that might just be me. Great stuff, drew me in. Look forward to reading more of your work!
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