eihyndaye

[eihyndaye]

WE’RE NOT IN KANSAS ANYMORE

A rusty blue 1972 Chevrolet Cheyenne sputtered exhaust down a straight and narrow two-lane road somewhere in Kansas. Stalks of corn in neat single-file rows stretched upwards, reaching for the billowing clouds as a toddler would motion to be picked up.

Dwayne sang along to Welcome To The Jungle between drags of his Marlboro Red cigarettes - or as he and his friends referred to them - Cowboy Killaz. His bare tree trunk arm carelessly hung out of the driver-side window, tapping the frame of the beater truck. “Watch it bring it to your n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n knees” he belted with the lyrics in an overly exaggerated rocker tone.

Static from the radio scratched over the high pitched vocals. “Oh, come on…” Dwane sighed, placing the cigarette between his lips. He reached over to turn the nobs of the outdated stereo, causing even more crackling with each twist. “Piece of shit”

An ashy ember fell to his thigh and burned a hole in his denim overalls. “Fuck!” He belted, rapidly patting away the burn.

A blaring honk heading in the opposite direction swerved past him. He white knuckled the steering wheel and began fishtailing between both lanes before veering into the dense cornfield and drastically coming to a complete stop. A cloud of dirt surrounded his truck.

“Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck!” He hurled and punched at the steering wheel. The horn of the truck bleeped out his profanities with each strike.

The dust began to settled as did his temper. Resting his head on the steering wheel to catch his breath, the radio static soon took back his attention. The annoyance in him rapidly boiled to a rage. He let out another blow to the stereo, knocking it back into clarity. “Welcome to the jungle, it gets worse everyday”

He scoffed and turned the truck off. Rays of the sun laid heavily upon him when he stepped out. The sun was at its highest point in the sky, but it may as well been six inches above him. He took off his NRA cap and wiped the sweat profusely running down his brow.

Dwayne stood silently for a moment, rehearsing the events that just unfolded. “Where did that mother fucker even come from?” He pondered. There hadn’t been another car for miles, and he would have seen an oncoming one before it even got close.

Without spending much time in thought, he began to circle the truck to inspect for damages. Kicking at each tire, and tracing his fingers over the scratches and dents like brain, nothing seemed out of the ordinary until he got to the hood, seeping puffs of white smoke. “No, no, no…” he whispered, lifting up the hood and releasing the now cloud of smoke.

Dwayne interlocked his fingers behind his head and began to pace. The last lyrics he heard replayed in his head. He snatched an ear of corn off the stalk and through it high into the air as if he was a quarter back throwing a Hail Mary.

“FUCK!” he hollered and crouched down with his head now in his hands.

A rustling from behind the truck caught his attention. He quickly stood up and went to inspect. Maybe his luck had changed. “Hello?”

The corn stood tall and still. “Hey, I’m real sorry about your corn” he explained but was met with no reply. “Mister?” He questioned, peering through some of the thick green sheaths.

More rustling came from behind him. “Hello?!” He paused and intently looked around, seeing or hearing no sign of anyone. Thinking for a moment, he felt it best to get out of there. “Listen, I’m sorry mister” he began to speak as retrieving the bolt action rifle from behind the passenger seat and slinging it over his shoulder. “I’ll pay for the damages, but this hunk of junk isn’t going anywhere right now. If you have a phone I could use, then this mess can get sorted out real quick” he spoke as calmly as he could half-heartedly expecting a reply but the only one he got was from the leaves of the stalk brushing up against each other.

“Okay… in that case I’ll be back as soon as I can” he said and turned to follow the downed corn and tire prints back towards the road.

When he got to the road, the distance he had to cover hit him. He realized he didn’t know how many miles it was to the nearest town, or how far the last one was. The mirage of the road blended with the infinite sky past the horizon. With a deep sigh accompanied by a new Cowboy Killa, he began walking.

Time dragged on, and with no way to tell,l it seemed even longer on the never ending straight road. The sun continued to press down on him and appeared to not have even moved, despite him thinking it should have at least a little by now. Dwane stopped to catch his breath and wished he had some water. But the sweat dripping down into his mouth from his head was all the moisture he could get.

Deeply breathing, another rustling from the stalks beside him caused him to jump back and load a round in the chamber of his rifle. “That’s enough now! Come on out and quit fucking with me!” He demanded and aimed to where the movement had came from but to no avail.

After a long minute of silence, he started walking again, picking up the pace with his rifle ready and head on a swivel. “I’m armed! Don’t get yourself shot now!”

A patter of footsteps carrying a large shadow dashed across the road behind him. He turned with his rifle at eye level without seeing anyone. “This isn’t fucking funny!” Glancing back and forth and ready to fire at anything that moved.

His heart sank. This didn’t seem like a harmless joke anymore. Had this all been a set up from the very beginning? Was the other vehicle this same person? He didn’t know or care to find out.

Thinking quickly, he darted into the corn. “If I can’t see them in here, they can’t see me” He crouched down, finger on the trigger and ears to the sky. His best bet was to stay put and wait.

Hours passed, but the sun was still at its highest point in the sky. “What the fuck is going on…” he thought, trying to stay as still as possible.

“I can’t just stay here…” He devised the only plan he thought possible: to make a break for it. But which way? On the road where he could be seen, or through the corn stalks where he couldn’t see.

Looking passed the opening through the stalks to the other side of the road, something slightly moving caught his eye. He held his breath, aimed, and stared directly at what was moving.

Like a chameleon changing its color, a large head became ever so slightly visible. He pulled the trigger but the gun jammed.

Welcome To The Jungle started blaring behind him, causing him to practically jump out of his drenched denim overalls. “You’re in the jungle, baby! You’re gonna die”

Dwayne turned and darted deep in the corn, sprinting as fast as he could. The lyrics “You’re gonna die” kept growing louder and more distorted the deeper he went.

“You’re gonna die! You’re gonna DIE! YOU’RE GUNNA DIE!”

His foot snagged in a root, tumbling him forward. He fumbled with his rifle to fix the jam with no use. His adrenaline and sweaty hands couldn’t operate it correctly. The figure appeared in front of him seemingly out of nowhere, towering just feet away from him.

He turned on his knees and continued to run, leaving the rifle behind. Sprinting like his life depended on it, he broke through to an open area where all the corn was bent at its base perfectly.

Halfway across the large circle of downed crops, he looked behind his shoulder to see the thing running after him. It’s big head with black eyes being carried by a tall frail body.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” He shouted with his heart pounding through his chest. He kept running, making his way back into the upright cornstalks.

After a short while, he bursted through another opening. This time, a field of yellowing crunchy hay-like grass with a small two-story wooden house. He made its way, pounding and yelling on the door. “HELP! PLEASE HELP!” He screamed, pulling on the locked door.

Glancing behind him, there was no sign of whatever was chasing him. He hastily made his way behind the house, where a red Ford Sierra was sitting.

The drivers side door was unlocked. He made his way in and immediately began searching for keys. Pulling down the visor, the keys fell into his lap.

When he picked them up to put them in the ignition, the thing that was chasing him was now staring at him through the passenger window. It was the first time he saw it so clearly.

Its large grey head had disproportionately large void eyes that squinted at him. Staring into them was almost painful. The nose was no more than small slits in its face, and a slightly ajar mouth with small pointed teeth half grinned at him beyond the pane.

“Oh fuck!” He pressed as hard as he could on the gas and sped off, leaving a trail of dust behind him. He followed the gravel road that led to the familiar two-lane one he had spent most of the day on and drove as fast as he could on it.

Taking a sharp left, he floored the gas pedal and continued straight, hoping to see a sign of someone. Anyone. In the distance he saw a blue truck. As it got closer it was veering into the oncoming lane. He laid on the horn to get his attention and watched as it fishtailed between the lanes before disappearing in the corn.

The radio began to play “Welcome to the jungle! It's worse here everyday! You learn to live like an animal! In the jungle where we play!”

#horror #thriller #short story #creative writing #writing

[eihyndaye]

The Aussie Nightcreeper

NIGHT ONE

The buzzing of Bush Crickets carried on into midnight hours in (rural town), Australia. Hidden in the dark, their cumulative songs carried throughout the dusty plains and engulfed the lone house at the end of a gravel road. The only source of light in the area beamed through the chipped windows.

 Alicia stood in front of her easel in paint splattered overalls with a mug of steaming hot Milo by her side and half unpacked boxes lining the four walls of her living room. Guitar riffs from a local Australian punk rock band blared through her stereo and helped guide the brush.

Feelings of being energized, relaxed, relieved, and optimistic overwhelmed her at once and flowed into her newest painting – the first of a series she had planned for this next chapter of her life. Her flow state, a state of mind in which all time vanishes, had itself been absent for nearly 6 months. Survival instincts reigned in its place. Tonight was the first time she felt like she was back to being her true self.

A quick glance at her phone revealed that it was approaching one in the morning. Hours had vanished as a vibrant lioness appeared on the canvas. A sigh escaped her, and the corners of her lips turned slightly up. She was satisfied for the night.

Grasping her art supplies and empty mug, she made her way around the corner and into the kitchen to begin cleaning up. The left-over paint washed out of the brushes and spiraled down the drain, swirling the blues and purples together until disappearing into nothingness.

The punk rock playlist she had been listening to for hours came to a deafening end. “Good timing” she thought as she rinsed the last brush and clinking it into a cup to dry. A creaking from the outside the kitchen window above the sink followed immediately after, snapping her out of her mind and back into the moment.

She flicked on the outside light to half peer out the window and intently listened. It was dead silent. Even the Bush Crickets had gone to bed for the night. After scanning the illuminated wooden porch and into the blackness outside, the assumption of it being nothing more than an old house seemed to be the most reasonable explanation. She turned off the light and retired to bed, excited to pick up where she left off the next night.

NIGHT TWO

     A setting sun created a multitude of orange hues in the sky that Alecia felt inspired by. A light breeze blew past her as she closed her eyes to breathe it in. Expanding her lungs fully and holding it in, she felt gratitude to be out of Darwin. As simple as that, she was ready to finish off her day with painting. Feeling inspired by the sky, her porch seemed like the perfect place to set up.

She collected the mug from the previous was sitting in the sink. “Why dirty another dish?” she thought as she gave it another quick rinse and prepared another hot Milo.

Making her made her way into the more put together living space, she collected her supplies but stopped to admire the work she had completed during the day. Previous paintings she had done had hung on the walls, a bookshelf of various ocean life books was neatly pressed in the corner, and string lights traced the edges of the ceiling. This small house was beginning to feel like a home.

The buzzing Bush Crickets filled the space between her and the vibrant sky. Its oranges had now been accompanied by pinks. Instead of continuing with her series from the night before, she wanted to paint the landscape from her porch. Then time melted away.

Halfway through her painting now and intently focused on getting the scattered vegetation just right, a rustling in the distance caught her attention. She peered beyond her easel to wild shrubs, looking intently through the darkening area.

They were still. She thought to herself that it’s nothing more than some wildlife that she isn’t used to and started carrying on with her painting. Trying to get back into her state of mind, she had noticed that it was eerily quiet. The gentle breeze from not that long ago had stopped, and so did the buzzing that filled the air. She tried thinking back to a time where it was this silent but couldn’t recall any.

Goosebumps ran down her spine as she raised her mug up to her lips. The feeling of being watched suddenly overtook her. She glanced past her painting again and noticed a pair of glowing white eyes at the top of the shrub.

Caught off guard and gasping while drinking, she began to cough uncontrollably as it ran down the wrong pipe. Wiping her mouth and the tears that formed in her eyes she quickly turned her attention back to the shrub. The eyes that had been there before were no longer there.

After a short time, the assumption that it must have been a wild dingo seemed like the most reasonable thing. She took a deep breath and refocused on her painting that was now spattered with bits of drink she had coughed up. “Fuck me dead!” she expelled.

     A disappointing sigh escaped her. Shaking her head in disapproval, she carried her supplies inside to retire for the night.

NIGHT THREE

      Water boiled and danced with Alecia in the kitchen. She twirled with a glass of red wine in her hand between cooking her favorite shrimp pasta. Uplifting music filled every corner of the house and her soul.

     It was especially late for dinner, but after her fourth glass wine nothing sounded better. She hazily served herself up a portion and finished the last bit of wine in her glass.

     “I shouldn’t get another, but why not” she thought to herself. Stumbling and giggling, she imagined the floorboards under her were really of a pirate ship traversing in rough seas. Falling into the way along the way into the living room, she lost her footing and gently lost her footing.

“I reeeaaaallllyy shouldn’t get another… but I’m already here” An angel and demon were arguing on her shoulders, but the latter was winning.

A smirk appeared on her face as she was digging through one of the last unpacked boxes, searching for that other bottle of wine. Finally, she found it and pulled it close to her face. The crimson color appealed more to her than the actual taste.

“Saw-vin-non!” she half-heartedly tried pronouncing in a poor French accent. The joints in her knees cracked as she stood.

She started returning to the kitchen when she faced the SCREEN DOOR. The wine slipped from her hands and shattered on the floor, but it may as well have been her jaw. Her vocal cords desperately wanted to scream, but not a sound escaped from her mouth. She tripped back, falling into the easel and hitting her head and causing her to go unconscious.

A tall dark figure with two glowing eyes watched intently on the other side of the glass.

NIGHT SEVEN

Days had passed when she came to, but it felt like weeks to Alecia. At times she faded in and out of consciousness but was locked in a state of paralysis. Even at the most alert times, her mind spun and everything she perceived slowed and twisted in her bloodshot eyes.

A cloaked figure peered at her with those vibrant white eyes behind the corner. The moonlight barely touched his porcelain skin. The shine from those eyes were the last thing she saw as she faded back into blackness.

Chills ran over her body with prickly goose bumps closely following. At one point something wet and spongy dragged up her face, accompanied by a warm iron stench. A low growl whispered in her ear “my queen”.

Brrriiing… brrriiing… brrriiing…

Her eyes widely shot open as she instantly sat upright with a loud gasp. “What’s happening?” she thought. Her gaze darted around her bedroom.

Brrriiing… brrriiing…

She patted around her bed searching for her phone. Quickly tapping under the sheets and pillows with no luck.

Brrriiing…

Her head creaked sideways. “Kitchen” she whispered. Gliding her way through the house, she managed to snatch it up off the counter just in time to answer it before seeing who it was calling.

“Hello?” Her voice was dry and cracked.

“Grammy!” screeched through the phone. It was so loud she thought it was on speaker.

“H-hey there, kiddo.” She spoke up through her hoarse voice as loud as she could.

“Where have you been?” The high-pitched voice shrieked through her phone. “We’ve been trying to get ahold of you so we can visit!” She was half paying attention, half wondering why it was so bright outside. The rays piercing through the kitchen window felt like acid on her skin and soap in her eyes.

Moving out of the way of the light and holding the phone away from her face she replied “Oh… I’ve just been busy”. She crept out of the kitchen and noticed the broken glass of wine and dark crimson everywhere. She tried recollecting but in the moment it was too much. Tiptoeing over the shattered glass and puddle of wine, she continued “Getting everything set up and ready takes time”

“Okay, but when can we come see you?” the overly excited voice turned to two. She cringed with how loud everything was.

“S-s-sooon… darlings. But grammy isn’t feeling well right now. Can I call back?” she gently said, hoping they’d understand to be quieter.

“Sure! But whe-“ she hung up and retreated back into her dark bedroom, burying her body and face under the blankets.

“I’m never drinking again” she thought

NIGHT NINE

A deafening silence flooded her ears awake. She felt incredibly well rested – more so than she had in years. With a deep breath inflating her lungs, she reached for her phone again.

0237 20/04/2023. She sighed and flicked it off. “Wait” she checked again. The 20th of April? She had only been here in her new home for a few days. “What…”

A light creak from outside caught triggered her head to snap to the door. She listened intently but didn’t hear anything else. Instead, she noticed how the room was dark, but a different kind of dark. One she could see through more easily. She sensed that something was off.

Creeping off the bed and seemingly to glide down the hall, she backtracked to her reflection in a large mirror that hung in the hall. Her eyes glowed white and her memory flashed back to her.

The eyes outside the screen door, being carried to bed, that iron stench… She gasped and held her hand up to her mouth. Now noticing the large splotch of crusted blood on her neck. She pulled the collar of her shirt down to reveal it more, exposing marks of teeth and bits of flesh missing.

Her heart started beating rapidly. Another creak caught her attention. This time instead of investigating she retreated to her bedroom, shutting the bedroom door as quietly as she could and pressing her ear up to it.

The screen door slowly dragged open and gentle taps of footsteps crept in shortly after. Her eyes darted around the room for an exit but there was none. She was trapped. The footsteps gently crept closer, causing her to back away from the door and dart behind her bed to hide.

She crouched down as the footsteps got closer and stopped at the door. The only thing she could hear was her heart seemingly beating out of her chest.

“I hear your heart, my queen.”

Her jaw dropped as the door creaked open slowly. The tall figure from her dreams, what she thought was just dreams, was on the other side of the door with glowing white eyes locking with hers.

#horror #thriller #vampire #shortstory #story #creative writing #australia