most wonderful time of the year...
When horror and paranormal authors throw a
ghoulish party to celebrate
everything that goes bump in the night
OCTOBER FRIGHTS BLOG HOP
No tricks here, just treats!
I'll add everyone who comments on my blog posts this week
into a drawing for a $10 Amazon gift card.
The winner will announced at the end of the last day of the hop.
But there's more...
Click here for the October Frights Giveaway
(free horror books, stories & previews)
This summer we moved from New England to upstate New York near Saratoga. While walking our Labrador Retriever in the local woods, inspiration hit for a dark flash fiction story I call, Corpse's Curve. I hope you enjoy it...
Highway 56 blasted its way through the far end of our property back in ’71. Lucifer’s Gap, population 1307 (1306 if you count Widow Marshall greeting her maker last night), had visions of shiny new streets and prosperity replacing the furrowed roads and derelict buildings at the tourism sure to follow. And business did boom. Establishments popped up where deals could be made in clouds of smoke mixed with the putrid scent of sex and alcohol. Where customers scattered to enjoy the rewards of money well spent.
Each time a car wrecked speeding around Corpse’s Curve to escape a drug deal gone bad or a pissed off pimp, Mama mumbled they got what they deserved.
Tonight, a Saturday in early December, would be no different. The sky darkened and the wet road turned to a clear-as-glass layer of ice as the night chilled. I waited. It didn’t take long before brakes screeched followed by a deafening bang as metal collided with the thick woodlands in its way.
I rose from the warmth of the house, grabbed a bag packed with an assortment of bandages, rope and tools. I’d made this trip enough to learn you never knew what you would stumble upon. I went prepared for any scenario.
Bundled for the early winter night, flashlight and phone in hand, the old Ford truck started up with a reluctant growl and I headed toward the highway. Mama taught us to take care of people, no matter how suspicious their circumstance.
The high beams shone like spotlights on an expensive foreign car, mangled enough to fit in the bed of the old Ford. A young man lay in a half frozen puddle of mud and fresh blood, one leg twisted outward at a ninety-degree angle from the hip. A slight hiss from its engine was all the vehicle would give away about the accident.
A whisper. “Please, help me.”
I knelt down. “I’ve called 911. Can you move? Is anyone else in the car?”
Parched, cracked lips mouthed, “No.”
“Here, let me get you some water.” I slid the bag closer.
As many times as I’ve done this, my heart never ceases to pound in exhilaration as I hog-tie and toss them in the back of the truck.
They’ve been blindsided. The accident wasn’t random and I’m not the savior they think I am.
Mama would be proud.
I'd love to hear from you.
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Have you ever driven alone along a dark, desolate highway
wondering what would happen if you broke down or had an accident?
Please hop over and visit the other awesome horror & paranormal authors
to read some terrifying tales and enter a contest or two...
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