It was the type of autumn late afternoon that was an all out assault on the senses. It had been a comfortably cool day, and had rained since early morning; it was a pleasant rain – not too hard, not too light. And as Larry walked from his friend’s house, happy after a long day of fishing down at Hickory River, the rain had stopped; yet it was threatening to start up at any second once again. Freshly fallen tree leaves lay all around, on top of the mud, in bright, glossy red and yellow clumps. Whatever sunlight that could battle its way through the storm clouds, that were looming above, cast a pearly haze onto everything God had created.
Larry wasn’t looking forward to the drive home; it was a fairly long ride, and it would be dark before he would be out of the woods; it was 5:30 and the light was falling out of the day quickly. His friend, Steve, lived at the end of Hickory Road; an old county dirt road, which ran about twenty miles into the dense woods of western Maryland. In fact, Steve’s house was the only house located on Hickory Road, and I’m sure the post officer just loved that. Steve always joked that if you were coming over to his house make sure that your car was gassed up, because there were no gas stations around for at least twenty five miles. He and Steve had been friends ever since the ninth grade. They met while fishing with there fathers on Hickory River, its what they both loved doing; rain or shine.
Down at the river, earlier in the day, Larry and Steve caught more then what they had expected. The catfish made for a good dinner. Larry really didn’t want to stay; he wanted to get home before dark, yet Steve talked him into it. Though Larry would never admit it, Steve’s house, and the surrounding woods had always scared him at night. Even at the age of forty his imagination could still scare him. Deep down inside he kind of enjoyed the freight; it reminded him of the way he felt as a kid, when he and his friends would hang out in a graveyard after midnight or when he got out the ouija board.
The car door of Larry’s Ford Fairmont creaked open, as Larry lifted the handle, opened the door, and sat down behind the wheel. The car started with its usual hesitation, and then suddenly turning over with a BOOM! His old Ford grumbled, and grunted as it slowly moved down the road. Another thing Larry hated about the location of Steve’s house, was that whenever he traveled down old Hickory Road, his favorite radio station – B101; Rock and Roll Forever – would completely go out, and would be nothing but annoying static. He moved around, up and down the dial, finding nothing that interested him, and turned the radio off. A very strange feeling overcame him, a feeling of being in the company of someone. And as the last light of the day faded, and night began to set in, the first beads of sweat formed on his forehead.
Five miles away from Steve’s house it was dark. “Boy, night really comes on fast in the fall”, he said to himself. ‘And when your deep in the woods’, he thought. Suddenly, there was a noise in the backseat. A small noise, nothing major. Larry looked into his rearview mirror. He saw nothing… nothing but the blackness behind him. The red lights on the back of the old Ford did nothing to penetrate the night. ‘What was that?’, Larry asked himself, then he decided it was probably just a small bump in the road. “Don’t start scaring yourself”, he whispered into the car.
Continuing along the tree-lined road, the urge to speed up was great, yet it would’ve been a bad move, due to all of the sharp curves that made up Hickory Road. Larry tried to get his mind off of the fright that was setting in, so he began to think about the fishing trip earlier in the day. His clothes were still damp from the rain that had pelted them while they sat on the boat catching catfish but other then that… ‘There’s something in the backseat!’ His mind screamed. “No there’s not, your just scaring yourself. It’s your imagination. You should have been a writer with that imagination Larry.” Larry said aloud. Then Larry rolled his eyes; he didn’t like the fact that he was talking to himself. Unless, of course, he wasn’t talking to himself; maybe… just maybe there was someone or something in the backseat.
It was quite possible. Steve did live in the woods; who knows what animal could crawl into a car, especially to get out of the rain. ‘Or’, Larry’s mind told him, ‘what kind of crazy man could crawl into the backseat of a car to get out of the rain.’ The speedometer read 49 mph. Larry put on the breaks quickly. “What are you thinking Larry? Your going way too fast for this little dirt road, you’re going to kill yourself!” Once again, he was talking to himself; he shook his head at this.
As he slowed the car down, there was another BUMP in the backseat of the old Ford Fairmont. ‘There it is again!’ Larry thought. ‘Someone’s back there, just waiting for the right moment to jump up, and cut my throat with a big knife. It’s possible someone’s back there. It’s very possible. Other then Steve, who knows what type of people live in these woods? I bet their not very nice people, if you’re out in these woods. He snuck into my car while I was eating dinner, and now he’s just…’ Larry cut these thoughts off quickly; it was too frightening. “You’re scaring yourself too much Larry. No one is in the back seat. He said in a loud and angry voice. (but there could be)
‘There could be though’, his mind reminded him. “Stop!” Larry shouted. He turned the radio back on. All he got was static; he turned it off in frustration. “Just think of something else. Something happy.”
‘Dinner was nice’, Larry thought in a pathetic attempt to get his mind off the back seat. His attempt at thinking of something happy didn’t work for long; ‘I bet the killer got into the backseat of my car when I was eating dinner’, he thought.
“What are you doing to yourself? There’s no one in the back seat!” Larry yelled.
(but there could be)
“Fine, I’m going to pull over, and check it out.” He said. ‘As soon as I get onto the main road’, he finished in thought.
The Fairmont continued on down the dirt road. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. The first trickle of sweat rolled down his cheek. “This is ridiculous” he whispered, “Absolutely ridiculous.”
Suddenly, a fox ran out in front of his car, Larry slammed on the brakes; the old Ford came to a sudden halt. There was another thump in the back seat – it sounded as though something or someone fell off the seat, and onto the floor – and Larry felt something push up against his seat. He screamed loudly, as the fox disappeared into the heavy brush on the side of the road.
‘Something hit my back! Something hit my back!’ His mind screamed in utter terror. ‘What the hell was that?’
Larry stomped on the accelerator, and speed off, dirt flew up in a cloud into the darkness of night. ‘I got to get to the main road. Something’s behind me, in the backseat, and I can’t get away from it.’ Flipping the switch on the radio, Larry breathed a sigh of relieve; the radio was back on, no more static. “Slow Ride” by Foghat was on B101; Larry turned the volume up full blast, singing along, trying his hardest to get his mind off the backseat. “SLOW RIDE… TAKE IT EASY.”
Yet then, just as smoothly as the station came in, it went back out; static once again. “ARGGGGGG” Larry screamed, and flipped the switched the dial off. Moment’s later Larry was on Route 3 – paved road, FINALLY. The Ford Fairmont was the only car on the road, but it still felt good to Larry. Until his mind started working on him again: ‘What’s the difference Larry? What’s the road surface matter? There’s still someone or something in your backseat, you’re not getting away from it any faster’. “But I’m almost home” he said. Rain began to fall.
‘Aren’t you going to pull over and check the backseat Larry?’ His mind inquired.
“No. I’m almost home, besides it’s raining. There’s no need to do that. It will only slow me down.” He told himself. ‘Your just scared, Larry’. He looked at himself in the rearview mirror, the instrument panel of his car was the only light he had; it was an eerie green light. What he saw in that eerie green light freaked him out; his hair was matted with sweat, his eyes were large and afraid. “Why am I doing this to myself?” he asked his reflection, “Why am I talking to myself? There’s no need to pull over and check the backseat… I’ll do it when I get home.” His voice wavered; he was trying to convince himself that everything is fine. Then his mind spoke:
‘Sure you can check the backseat when you get home… if you get home, that is.’ “Fine, I’ll pull over now!
Larry put on his flashers – not that there was any need to, there were no other cars to see it – and pulled over to the side of the road. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, he could not bring himself to open the car door, get out, and check the backseat of his car. He was frozen in fear. ‘This is nut’s Larry. You know it is too. There’s nothing in your backseat, nothing or no one.’
(but there could be)
“So what if there is? Let him kill me if he wants too.” Larry turned off his flashers, and pulled back onto Route 3, screeching his wheels on the wet pavement. Then he speed up until he was going twenty-five miles per hour over the fifty mile per hour speed limit.
He turned the radio on, and bingo, B101 came in great. The open road did wonders for the station’s reception. Larry began singing along to the radio once again, loudly; this time it was “Radar Love” by Golden Earring. Ten minutes later he was pulling into his driveway, in his nice suburban neighborhood. Turning off the car, he looked into the rearview mirror once again, and said, “See Larry, everything is fine, there’s no one in the backseat.”
(but there could be)
With that thought, he got out of his car as quickly as he could, leaving the drivers side door wide open, and started for his house. He ran as hard as he could towards the backdoor of his house, which was the door that he used the most. Larry didn’t dare look behind him. The yard was very big, with a couple trees here and there; the big yard was one of the reasons Larry bought the house, yet now, he wished it were much smaller.
Twigs, and slippery leaves covered his backyard, and as he ran down the walkway towards the backdoor of his house he kicked a twig, and it went swirling in a circular rotation out from underneath him, rustling leaves behind him. “OH Don’t kill me!” he screamed into the night air. To Larry’s ears the rustling leaves sounded like someone chasing him, and that put a fire into his run. Bolting for the backdoor now, he was sure that any moment a knife was going to be plunged into his back.
Once he reached the backdoor, he fumbled crazily with his keys, finally, after what seemed like forever – in reality it was only a split second – he put his house key into the lock and turned. The door flew open with the heavy force of his push; he rushed into his house – the kitchen to be exact – and slammed the door shut behind him, locking it as soon as it was closed. Putting his face in one of the panes of glass, he looked out into the darkness. Nothing was seen but trees, and the fallen fall leaves, which littered the ground.
Larry breathed a huge sigh of relief. “See… nothing to worry about” he said in between heavy breaths. Not since high school has he run so fast, and he sure was winded. He turned around in his kitchen, intending to see what kind of beer he had in his refrigerator. However he only got to take one step towards the fridge before he noticed the large shadow standing in front of him… the one with the large meat cleaver in its hand. In all of the years Larry had been around, he had never been more scared. At that moment he turned swiftly, banging his knee against the wall. The pain that shot through his leg was grand. And he went down on the floor like a ton of bricks, screaming, “Don’t kill me! Please don’t kill me! Please don’t…”
Larry, holding his knee, stared at what frightened him so badly, and he began to laugh. In the shadows of his kitchen his jacket, which hung on the wall opposite him, and a silver walking cane, can look an awful lot like a man holding a meat cleaver. Rubbing his knee, trying to work the pain out, he laughed harder. “See Larry” he said, “you were just scaring yourself.” With that, he laughed louder.
Later that night, after having a few beers, he laid down for the night. Just as he fell off to sleep, he was awoken by what he thought was a car door slam. That’s when he remembered that he left his car door wide open. “Oh man,” he muttered in the darkness of his room, “I gotta go close the car door.” Just then, Larry found out what it was like to have a meat cleaver enter his head. Larry never got to close his car door. The man who snuck into his car while he was having dinner with his buddy Steve just killed him.
The End.
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